Place : Safehouse : Common Area
Safehouse: Common Area
The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a wooden door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen.
A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there.
Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house.
Kevin gives a little chuckle at the mention of 'cub goodness' as he hands out forks and begins to tuck into his own creation. Other than that he keeps silent, letting the two cliaths get to know one another like a good little cub who knows his place in the pecking order.
Emma grins a bit, and looks to Kevin, "Think Brom has some weasel in him Kevin?" She lets out a laugh then and begins eating at her noodles. "Well, for first impressions, you seem more or less alright Jeren, which is saying a lot or a little- depending. I still haven't decided if you Walkers need a good Get to keep you alive, or if you are out to drive me fuckin' mad."
From the main door comes five knocks, starting off tentative but getting more assertive. There's a moments pause, then three more, as if the first five were in some way insufficient or inadequate.
Jeren 's eyes glint, and her smile turns just a tiny bit feral. She pauses a moment to take a bite, chew, and swallow before she continues on. "I'm all for staying alive. And if you think I'm being a busybody with you, wait until I get my teeth into this Tu fellow. I'm curious to see if and what he plans to teach him about combat." Another bite, this time she doesn't wait until she's swallowed to add, "S'useful to know how to avoid bein' squished." Knocking. She looks up.
At the mention of Brom, Kevin stops with his fork halfway to his mouth. "That guy? He == " The knock at the door interrupts whatever statement Kevin might have been about to make about the Viking-style philodox. "I think I know that knock," he says instead, and pushing his plate aside he bounces to his feet and over to the door, which he throws wide. On seeing who stands beyond it he is bandaged face breaks into a slightly tentative smile. "Hey there. I was starting to worry you were still cross at me," he says to the new arrival.
Emma looks from cub to door, and as she spots the other, gives a big grin, "Hey KL, damn I been looking and waiting for you. Had to take double patrol yesterday, you're on your own tomorrow for the afternoon. I'll do morning. We can take evening together." She continues to slurp at her noodles.
Standing on the doorstep, KL looks slightly forlorn. She looks down at the floor, her cheeks a little red. Under her right arm is a large brown cardboard that has a wet spot in one corner. "Yeah, well..." she says, her voice reminiscent of a teenager being forced to apologise by her mum. "Kind of wanted to say sorry." She brings the box into both hands, and holds it out. "Brought you a present." On seeing Emma, she smiles. "On my own? Wow."
Jeren halts her end of the conversation to study what she can make out of KL from her spot on the chair. She doesn't really make much of a show of hiding it either, though her expression is nice and neutral. And in the meantime, she also continues to eat. Mmm.
Kevin, whatever else he may have been expecting, evidently is taken utterly aback by KL's gift. "Y... you... you got me..." He clutches at the box in a manner somewhat akin to a drowning man at a plank of wood, and blinks at the Fury in complete amazement, swallowing hard.
Emma nods to KL and then focuses on the cub, "Well what the hell is it? And where is mine KL?" She pouts in good natured jest at the girl.
The Fury Ahroun takes a couple of steps inside the house, and grins at Emma. "I didn't scream at you until you showed throat." she says, looking back at Kevin. "I should know better than that. Should _be_ better than that. Sorry. Oh, and it's a pot plant. A little tree. I couldn't think of anything that you Walkers wouldn't have already. Tried baking a cake." The expression that accompanies this - a twitching of her nose and a tilt of her palms - indicates the success of that attempt. As she takes another step in to the building, she notices Jeren for the first time. "Hey." she says, expression suddenly guarded.
Jeren takes another bite before setting her food aside and standing up. "Jeren Harper, Cliath Ragabash of the Glass Walkers, only just recently arrived in St. Claire, formerly of the Sept of the Eternal Sentinels in Colorado." It's routinely recited, but--she's been repeating this quite a bit over the past two days.
Kevin still clings onto the gift as though it's the one constant in a changing world, which isn't so very far from the case, at that. He swallows hard again. "'Sbeen a long time since anyone gave me anyfn," he says in a voice that tries, and fails by quite a margin, to conceal considerable emotion. Only after this statement does he recall his self-appointed position as Jeren's introducer. "Oh, yeah, KL, meet Jeren. You guys'll like each other, you're both from Denver."
Emma chuckles, "You're odd Kevin. What does Denver have to do with anything?" Emma goes back to her noodles then, glancing at the potted plant, "I want a plant... damnit."
KL's reaction to this news is a little odd. She looks surprised, then a little wistful. "Sept of the Eternal..." she says, looking thoughtful. "I'm KL Cole, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies. As Kev says, I'm originally from Denver too." She smiles at Emma again. "OK, OK, I'll get you a plant. Do you want flowers, or just greenery?"
"...Sentinels," Jeren finishes. Her neutral expression turns a little more interested at the mention of KL's origins. "It's around the south-west fringe of the Rocky Mountain National Park. Denver, is it? City proper, or a suburb?"
Kevin lifts the plant out of the box and sets it carefully on the table by his own noodles. He returns to his seat and munches thoughtfully, once more keeping silence around the cliaths.
Emma grins at KL, "I want just greenery, c'mon, I'm already not Getly enough, you want me showing off fuckin' daisies too?"
"Hey! It would be different. You know, a departure." KL says to Emma. "My Dad lives in Wash Park." she says, turning back to Jeren. "That's where I grew up. Well, as much as I did." Little self-deprecating shrug. "So, when did you leave?"
"Officially," Jeren says, "a little over a week ago. Though for the past year or so my pack's been pretty far out of that territory. We were up around Yellowstone for a good long while." She finally retrieves her meal, and sits back down. "I was raised in Aurora. Heh, I /grew up/ in Denver. Or rather, a different suburb."
Emma looks around and grunts, "Shoot. I need to run guys. Kevin, tomorrow, during our run, we're talking. Nice meeting you Jeren, and KL, patrol, in four hours." She hops up and heads out then.
Kevin nods. "Definitely, Emma." He waves her goodbye with his fork, still sounding rather subdued.
KL nods in agreement "Four hours." She takes a couple of steps over to a spare chair and slumps into it, one leg falling away casually. "Has the place fallen down in a freak but rather welcome earthquake?" she asks, with a slightly bitter grin.
Jeren waves her hand both as Emma leaves, and at KL's question. "Earthquakes are Washington's territory. And before you ask, it hasn't been blown down by a massive tornado either. The place is sticky with leeches though."
Kevin munches away at his noodles. Just because he's not speaking doesn't mean he's not necessarily listening.
"Oh?" KL says, looking more intense. She leans forward, hands clasped between her legs. "That's relatively new, I guess. I didn't really get to go back into the city much after my first change. It's been a long while since I was there, though. Spent a long while roaming around, before I came here to try and settle down."
Jeren nods. "Yeah. Though I haven't frequented it consistently in about a year, so who knows--maybe that's changed again. It would be pleasant, however unlikely." She suddenly snaps her fingers, as if remembering something, and stands up, mostly empty dish set aside once more. "Here, I've got to fetch something. I'll be back shortly." And with that, she slips across the room to the metal door leading to the Glass Walker section of the house, punches in the code, and steps through.
Kevin is left with KL and a tree as the only other living things in the vicinity, unless there's any cockroaches lurking under the table, which is always a possibility here. "Well," he says to KL, still nonplussed. "Ya know, /I/ was trying to think of ways to say sorry to /you/ next time we met..."
"You were? What for?" KL asks, her head turning back to the cub after her eyes had followed the newly-arrived Cliath from the room. "I mean, you were being a bit ragabashy, but I supposed to be able to cope with that kind of shit, especially from a cub."
Kevin exhales and fingers one of the leaves on the plant. "I don't know when to shut up," he says a little morosely. "At least you just stamped out. I wasn't so lucky the other night."
"What happened?" The Fury looks concerned. "And yeah, I just stamped out, but there was a moment..." She shrugs. "Don't know how close it was. Would have been bad." She grins. "Want to know what stopped me?"
"Tell me," Kevin says quietly, "and then I'll tell you what became of me, three other garou, and about two thousand bucks' worth of computer hardware."
"Just at the moment that I was staring at your throat, my vision going slowly red, the thought passed through my mind 'If I hurt him, Natalie will rip me to shreds'" KL says, with a little smile. "And that was enough to get me going the other way. Anyway, that sounds serious?"
Kevin sighs. "Cutting a long story short..." he says, "I made one of my patented snappy comebacks at the wrong moment, to Thomas. He snapped. Like /that/. My whole life flashed before my eyes for a moment... and I won't say that Hjalmar's didn't too," he interjects, with a dark smile. "And then Nat dived in between us and the two of them started slugging one another, not to mention knocking all the computers over. I ran for it, tried to grab Cy, the other Walker cub... and would you believe my luck, she didn't take kindly to being grabbed and dragged to safety, and /she/ frenzied too. She's the one who tore half my face off," he goes on, indicating his few remaining scrapes. "You should have seen my phizzog afterwards. All colours, it was. But luckily she's new and has more enthusiasm than accuracy, so I managed to slug her. And that," he concludes, "is how I finally beat another Garou in a fight for the first time. But on the whole I'd have been just as happy waiting for that to happen."
A rather...longer period of time than she initially implied passes before the metal door again swings open to admit Jeren back into the common side of the house. There's definitely a difference to her. She's clearly bristly, even in homid. And as for the thing she went to 'fetch'...the only thing that she's brought back with her is a gun--a handgun, Glock 9mm, which she's holding by the barrel rather more tightly than she needs to.
Kevin's eyes go as round as the little black hole at the end of the weapon's muzzle at the sight of the Glock. His gaze flickers to KL and back again to Jeren in an instant. "...okay," he says, visibly tensing up. "Another Walker toting a gun. Just what the doctor ordered."
Jeren 's expression really is feral this time--not quite a grin, not quite a grimace, but there's a definite look in her eyes that wasn't there before. Apparently, something's put her back up. Even so, she turns toward Kevin and offers him the gun, grip first. For those who know where to look for such things, the clip is missing, and there's no round in the chamber. "That's right. Natalie was talking about getting you trained on them, so I figure you may as well get a good look at one first."
KL raises an eyebrow at the sight of the gun, but doesn't say anything immediately. She shifts in her chair, her pose becoming more tense, her weight shifted forward over her knees, as if she's about to leap up - but for the moment, she remains sitting, eyes wide and alert.
Kevin's eyes, already wide, widen still further, enough to push his eyebrows right up under his long, unkempt fringe. He stares at the gun for a long second before extending one hand and taking hold of it in an extremely gingerly fashion, as though he fears it will turn into a snake and bite him.
Jeren lets him take his time, though her demeanor is impatient. "Go on. It's not loaded. Take a good long look, get a feel for the weight, pull the trigger if you want--away from us, it never hurts to be careful. You're going to want to get comfortable being around one of these," she gives a little toss of her head, "'cause it might save your ass some day."
There's the tiniest little shake of the head from the Fury Ahroun, a roll of the eyes and a little huff of resignation and amusement. She watches the cub and the gun, though, with a mixture of interest and wariness, though some of the tension of a few moments ago has gone.
Kevin exhales with a huff and forces himself to relax. He peers at the weapon, fitting the grip into his palm and slipping one finger up against the trigger. Turning well away from KL and Jeren, he aims at some imaginary mark on the wall, though he doesn't pull the trigger. "Lighter than you'd imagine," he comments. "But then, the only guns I've ever held before have been .22 rifles in the shooting gallery at school, back home."
Jeren's eyebrows lift. "Well hey, that's better than nothing. I don't have any real experience with rifles though, so if you get any training on those, it won't be from me. I'd consider training on these though," she gestures toward the gun, "whether from me, or Tu, or someone else, to be highly useful. It won't stop most creatures you're going to fight on its own, but it might slow them down."
KL snorts quietly, but still doesn't say anything. She folds her arms across her chest and regards the Walkers with a look of superiority, head tipped back and nose in the air.
"I'd've thought," Kevin muses, "that for most of the stuff we'd be needing them for, rifles would be too big and obvious. And the sort I know are really only for target shooting. But hell, yes, excuse my British lack of enthusiasm for bang-sticks, I'd love to know how to use one safely. Well, safely to /me/, as opposed to anyone I may need to fire it at."
Jeren glances toward KL with a /look/. Normally, she'd hardly have noticed, but she's clearly on edge. "Do you have an objection?" she asks edgily. And to Kevin, she says, "Well, like I said, Nat was talking about it with me yesterday. I don't want to step on Tu's territory--I do enough toe squashing as it is without resorting to the deliberate kind, but I'm more than willing to show you."
"No. No objection." KL says, with an airy wave of her hand. "Your tribe's cub. Your tribe's house. Nothing to do with me." Her remarks are uttered in an amused, and slightly condescending tone. She does unfold her arms though, and lean back into the chair, pulling one leg across the other and affecting an -I-don't-care- air.
Kevin sights the weapon once more, then lays it carefully down on the table. "Well, I'm grateful," he says. "As soon as you've got formal permission, feel free to haul me off for some practice." He looks from one of the cliaths watching him to the other. "Do you two mind," he says, seeming not to appreciate the increase in tension levels coming from KL like radio waves from a transmitter, "if I slope off back to the bunkroom for a spell? I want to give the punchbag a pounding in crinos. Work off some energy, since I've not been getting my morning runs in while my face hasn't been fit to be seen outside." It's true, obvious claw marks are not overly compatible with the Veil.
A definite 'chuffing' sound escapes Jeren's nostrils. She gives a slight hand-wave to Kevin. "Go right ahead. Hell, while I'm at it, I'll see if I might poke in a few other things, unless Tu's already planning on it." She eyes KL as she moves to retrieve the unloaded weapon. "...Guns are a little more Veil friendly than bows," she states tersely.
"Well, not really. They're perhaps a little more concealable. But they're also more Namer-shit." KL says coldly. "But do we really have time for this argument now? I mean, it's not like it's not come up before, once or twice." Arms back across her chest again, and her eyes flick from cliath to cub and back with alertness.
"Once or twice," Jeren repeats, with a very, very slight growl. And then she visibly swallows a little of her mounting temper. "...Nnn. Bows are 'Namer-shit' too. They're just old fashioned Namer-shit, so you find them more acceptable. In any case, I'll trust to something that's proved damn handy, thank you."
"Pretty much anything more than claws and fangs is weaver-tainted," KL agrees. "Up to and including clothes. You just have to draw the line somewhere, and I guess we draw it at a different place." Her words are friendly enough, but there's tension in her voice - it's lost the lower register, sounding higher and thinner than earlier. She's staring at the Walker Cliath, a flat, level, 'd'ya think yer hard enough' stare.
Jeren , who up til now has been all about the eye-dropping and throat showing, stares directly back, her lip partially curled up on one side of her mouth--not attractive, but indicative of how much she's riding her Rage just now. The rest of her is deceptively loose, though her weight has shifted subtly to the balls of her feet. The Ragabash says nothing.
The insouciant grin that KL was wearing is long gone. She leans slowly forward, not breaking eye contact with Jeren. "Yeah?" she says softly, raising an eyebrow. She hisses a long, quiet exhalation of air, only adding to the tangible tension in the room. "Downstairs?"
Jeren 's hands carefully clench, then loosen, then clench again. One might notice that between clenchings, she's also tensing her forearm muscles, followed by her upper-arm, then shoulder. She lifts the gun, without breaking the contact, and sets it back down on the table. "Down. Stairs." Her voice is growly, and the words are very clipped.
KL stands slowly, still unwilling to break eye contact. "I have to patrol in a couple of hours." she says, matter-of-factly, before looking away and walking towards the steps down to the basement. As she goes, she stretches her arms above her head and pushes them back, stretching muscles like a swimmer preparing for a race.
Jeren follows KL with motions that can only be described as a stalk. She's gritting her teeth, her eyes are narrowed and dark, and as she goes, she continues the flexing routine with both arms. Apparently, all she can find to respond to KL's remark about her patrol is a soft grunt.
The basement is a fairly grim, concrete-walled little hole, with very little in it. KL walks across the floor, until she's about halfway between the centre and the far wall, then turns and faces the woman following her. "Ready?" she asks, a cocky grin on her face, her hands held in front of her, her knees slightly bent, her right foot behind her left.
Once she reaches the bottom of the stairs, Jeren gives a small roll of her neck, as if to loosen up the swiftly building tension there. She moves forward a short distance, about five feet away from KL, and gives the basement a careful, hard look before looking back toward the Fury. "--Ready." Her stance is loose, but still with most of her weight rolled forward, and her knees also just slightly bent, legs spread a small distance apart.
This woman is not tall, standing at only 5'1, possibly 5'2 if you're feeling generous. She has a slender frame, but with an athletic build--she looks like a runner, or a gymnast perhaps, and when she moves, it's with smoothed and balanced motions. While the shape of her features are predominantly Caucasian, her skin and hair coloring suggests at a slightly more exotic genetic background--but it is very unclear just what that might be. She has dusky skin that can't quite pass for brown or tanned, rather somewhere inbetween.
Her hair is a silky black, but cropped at about chin length and layered. It's one of those haircuts that keep themselves in line without too much maintenance, or at least that's the idea. Overall her looks are pleasant enough, somewhat plain, and this is helped by the fact that she doesn't seem to bother with makeup any more than she does with elaborate hairstyles. A thin tracery of scars, possibly from some animal or another, arches over and around her left eye and into the hairline, with one spidery branch stretching dangerously over the eyelid itself, though there is nothing to suggest the eye is damaged.
Her clothing consists of a white, sleeveless top tucked into the waist of a pair of non-descript jeans that are just baggy enough to not restrict her movements, but not so much that they're likely to trip her up. Over this is pulled a collared, button-up black shirt, completely unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. Generally she also wears a pair of fingerless, black leather gloves, somewhat more reinforced on the backside of the hands rather than the palm, which would be the norm. The legs of her jeans are tucked into a pair of plain brown hiking boots with black laceups that look as though they've seen a lot of use.
KL takes a couple of steps forward, cautious, keeping her centre of gravity low and her eyes fixed on the centre of the other woman's chest. As she closes to within range, her hands ball into fists, ready to punch her opponent. It's somewhat surprising, then, that her first move is to lift her head and kick with her right leg, with no discernable backlift, at the Walker's knee cap.
As KL moves forward, Jeren matches her movements measure for measure--only at a backward angle, circling so as not to get wall-pinned. Her body gives a slight roll as KL commits to the kick--a side-step, but a small one, just enough to avoid the kick, but no more. Because of this, KL's foot comes within a practical centimeter of brushing her leg. The Ragabash doesn't wait--immediately after the side-step, she also backsteps, just out of range.
The Fury makes a little 'come-on' motion with her hand, taking a position right in the centre of the room, daring the Ragabash to come towards her. She makes no move toward the other woman, but instead remains ready, bouncing up and down, keeping her feet and legs moving as she awaits Jeren's reaction.
Jeren stops where she is, adjusting her feet slightly into what she judges are better positions to make up for the sudden movement she's just finished. Now that they're actually involved in the contest, her eyes are narrowed, and her overall expression is one of concentration. The anger is still there, closer to the surface than it has been in days, but it's clearly under control. Roughly two seconds of stillness after KL's gesture, and this time it's her turn to feint--just a sudden, swift movement, her upper torso giving a small jerk forward, but her feet not actually moving from their spots. It might look rather silly--like a chicken peck, but the idea is to throw the other person's balance off by making them react to it.
KL doesn't really buy the feint, but she does shift her weight backwards for a split second, which may well be long enough to allow the Ragabash to make an attack on her. At the same time, the grin fades, being replaced by a look of deep concentration.
Indeed, the moment Jeren spots the signs of weight shifting, she springs forward--one arm, the left, raises sharply, fist clenched, just in front of her face. The other, fist also clenched, is kept low until she's in range. When she is, she strikes, aiming for the center of the stomach, just below KL's ribcage. This also means /she's/ in range of any attack, however.
The Ahroun's sharp eyes spot the shift in Jeren's chest, even if she doesn't see the blow itself. Her momentary disadvantage prevents her from moving out of the way, but she does manage to twist, causing the blow to land off-centre, and slightly glancing. She gives a grunt, partly of pain, partly through the air being forced from her lungs, and perhaps partly in acknowledgement of well-performed move. Her hands drop, intending to grab the wrist of the punching arm, and at the same time she continues the spin to her left, hoping that will make it more difficult for any blow with the Ragabash's left hand to land anywhere.
Jeren's teeth grit a little harder as her right wrist is caught. Her left arm moves a little lower, mostly to block her mid-torso from the same sort of blow that she just attempted, but she doesn't attempt to strike. Rather, she plants her feet and spins with KL, step for step, and her right hand unclenches and turns, attempting to grasp KL's wrist in return.
Having got her hold, KL bends a knee and drops a shoulder, hoping to throw the other girl over it and onto the cold floor of the basement. A high-risk maneuver, particularly as it involves turning her back to her opponent, but worth it if it pays off. The clenching hand of the ragabash slides over her skin without making a particularly good purchase.
KL succeeds in performing almost the exact same maneuver that Jeren was trying to set herself up to doing in reverse. The Ragabash is thrown--she curls and twists, getting her feet under her before she lands, but the landing is still rather hard, especially on her left foot, which turns the wrong way. Grimacing, teeth bared, Jeren launches herself with her weight pushing off mostly from her healthy ankle, striking with the left fist this time with the full intent of hooking it into the part of the neck just below the Fury's jaw, and before she can straighten back up. Her right hand continues to fumble for a good purchase on KL's wrist, if only to keep her from using that arm to block the strike.
The Fury ducks, which means the blow strikes her on the upper part of the head rather than under her jaw, but it does land with a resounding thud, causing the Ahroun to reel slightly, one foot going out to steady her stagger. As a result, Jeren's clutching manages to get a grip on KL's wrist, even if only one handed. KL lets out a low, rumbling growl and tries to rip her hand clear of the Walker's grasp.
Jeren releases KL's wrist immediately, the moment she notes the tensing muscles in the upper arm start to pull--she's off balance, and otherwise she'd likely be pulled right over. The Ragabash takes this moment to straighten back up, sliding her stronger, healthier ankle slightly back from the other. She waits a beat for KL's reaction to having her arm suddenly released.
The rumbling growl becomes an outright shout of annoyance as it transpires that the Fury's reaction is to spring forward in a semi-jump, fists flying in a blur of motion, all the blows aimed at the Ragabash's stomach area. Anyone would think that being hit round the head had irritated her!
Again, Jeren's reaction is a miniscule side-step, performed by pushing off with her stronger ankle once more. However, she mis-judges the distance needed--KL's fists strike glancing blows against her hip and leg, tripping her up. Someone's apparently taught her how to fall, however, because she again hits the floor at a hard roll, the sort that would leave dark bruises, and skips back up to her feet.
The Ahroun, sensing some advantage, follows Jeren across the floor, breathing hard, her face flushed and her skin slick with sweat. She's still very much under control, though, and there's determination in her eyes, which are fixed on her opponent. As she approaches, she reaches out, attempting to grapple the Walker, wanting to take this from being a fast-moving, mobile, fight into a writhing-on-the-ground-ripping-and-tearing sort of fight.
The sort of thing that Jeren would very much like to avoid, clearly. She snatches for both of the Fury's reaching wrists with the same speed she's been lending to her strikes, trying to yank her forward and past, so as to allow the Walker to sidestep yet again, and have a chance at her back.
Well, KL wasn't expecting that, obviously, and she's caught off balance by the maneuver, being pulled in the direction she was heading anyway, but off balance and struggling to maintain her footing. She attempts to turn, to stay with the Ragabash, but there's a clear shot at her back before she does so.
Jeren takes it. As KL passes her she twists sharply, bringing a single, double-fisted strike toward the base of her neck, between the shoulder blades. At this moment, she is also distinctly off balance, as most of her weight is still on the non-twisted ankle, and she's in half spin.
The Fury lets out an gasp of pain as the blow lands on her back, fairly and squarely and with a loud thud that echoes off the concrete walls. She finishes her turn, a little unsteady on her feet, and leg sweeps toward the Ragabash. Her unsteadiness means that whether this lands or not, she's likely to end up at least kneeling on the floor herself.
Thwump. That's Jeren hitting the floor on her back, just nearly managing to avoid cracking her skull against the concrete. She rolls as quickly as she can onto her hands and knees, but rather than close again, she attempts to get to her feet and dart out of range once more.
From her kneeling position, hand on the floor, KL dives for the other girl's ankles, arms outstretched, hands grasping for her target. There's a thud as she too hits the deck, combined with the sound of Ahroun on concrete as she slides as a result of her dive.
Jeren lands on her face this time as one of her ankles, the stronger one, is caught by KL's grasp. For the first time she allows a very definite snarl past her lips, and her followup action isn't nearly so calculated. In a reverse of her previous roll, she twists onto her back this time, and double-kicks at the top of KL's head.
The kick doesn't land true, but does graze the top of KL's forehead, opening a small cut that starts bleeding almost immediately, the blood mixing with KL's sweat and running down her brow in rivulets, before dripping onto the floor. This slows KL down, and while she doesn't release her grip, she's much slower at hauling herself toward the Ragabash, intending to turn this into a wrestling match, than she might otherwise have been.
Jeren's own face has begun to bead with moisture, now that she's actually committing to actions that are taxing (not to mention taking painful blows), and her breath is coming in a steady pant. She kicks again, with the free, weaker ankle, this time aiming for the Fury's face.
Another strike, and the Fury's head snaps back as the foot catches her cheek. Still, though, she bares her teeth in aggression and resolve, and continues to pull herself towards the Ragabash, one hand over the other as she works her way up the other girl's leg. Her intent is obvious - to get on top of the older Garou and end this bout as soon as possible.
Jeren takes a careful breath, and waits for just a half moment--long enough for KL to get within her arm's reach. Then her fists ball, and she strikes sharply. No pulling punches--she's aiming for both eyes now.
It's difficult to throw accurate punches with both hands, and one almost misses entirely, sliding off the top of KL's eye socket having down very little damage. The other one lands full on, however, with a satisfying thump, and once again KL's head is rocked back. The Fury lets out a squeal of pain and rage and indignation and kneels up, throwing blow after blow in an undisciplined, but rage-fuelled assault, aiming for any vulnerable and available section of the Ragabash's body.
Jeren tries, and fails, to twist out from under the Fury, and within another moment, she doesn't have the presence of mind to keep trying. Several blows land full on--stomach, nose, throat, and there's an almost physical snap as Jeren loses momentary control of her temper, and her actions. The Ragabash bulks under KL into the full on, snarling Crinos form.
As the Ragabash shifts beneath her, KL looks shocked for a moment, then mirrors the shift, her muscles roiling and shifting under her skin as she moves through Glabro to war form. One moment, the room has two girls fighting in it, the next it seems somewhat crowded, filled as it is with Crinos Garou.
Eight feet is not a significant height in Crinos measurements, but those who aren't used to making such comparisons would certainly not be marking the difference. This beast appears as nothing less than a huge, upright wolf, with deadly sharp claws, teeth, and yellow eyes that are clearly far more intelligent than your average lupine. Its fur is black, with an undercoat of dark grey that can make it appear almost to have blue highlights in the right lighting. For a Crinos, it is unusually slender--not so much muscle bulk as one might expect, but from the way it carries itself, there is the hint of swift, violent action to come at any moment.
The first Crinos wastes absolutely no time in responding to the previous punches. The moment Jeren's form stabilizes she lashes out indiscriminately at anything her quickly hazing vision can register. There's no aim whatsoever to the blow.
KL takes the blow on a shoulder without even flinching, then launches her own assault. Claws carefully folded in, she aims a succession of blows at the head of the supine Ragabash, putting all the strength and speed that she can muster behind them, channeling her rage into the strokes as much as she can.
The Ragabash, if there is any question as to whether she has any control left, clearly loses it entirely at this. She lashes, she kicks, she bites--a flurry of motions, and they last about...ten seconds. Then her head rocks back and her entire body goes limp. It's not quite unconsciousness, as her eyelids are still fluttering, but she's on the verge, and no longer fighting.
*Snick* KL's claws are bared, and held above the Ragabash, well within her vision range, the Fury's right arm pulled back ready to strike. ~Show throat~ she demands, teeth bared in hostility. The other paw rests on Jeren's shoulder, propping the vastly increased in size Ahroun up. The fire is slowly dying in her eyes, though.
There's a delay, mostly because Jeren is still clearly reeling from the beat-down, and also because she's trying to suck in great heaping breaths with a full-moon Crinos sitting on her chest. And then there's a small, but clear lifting of the muzzle, exposing the Walker's throat to the Fury.
With a satisfied grunt, the Ahroun rolls clear of the Ragabash and shifts back down to homid. There's not much else she can do, though, as she kneels in the middle of the floor with her head bowed, taking deep breaths. Eventually, she lifts her head and grins at the Walker. "Fuck, you're quick." she says, admiringly.
Once KL has moved off of her, Jeren shifts down herself, but only to Glabro. She remains on her back, sweaty, gasping, but after a beat there's a clear, dark grin crossing her lips. "You too," she grunts, in a very low, gutteral voice. "Shit--I needed that, but shit. I lost control."
"Bah!" says KL, with a wave of her hand. "Easy to do. Safe down here. Well, as safe as anywhere in the city." She slowly hauls herself up, and tentatively stretches an arm out. "I think I'm OK. Right - need to go off for that patrol now. You going to be OK?"
Jeren lifts a long-nailed hand to take hold of the arm, though she manages to haul herself up mostly by herself. A long, slow hiss slips through her teeth. "Oh, yes...I really, really needed that." The dark grin remains. "You can come and make fun of my Weaver-shit any time you like, KL." She takes a deep breath. "Watch your back on patrol."
The Ahroun gives a little 'heh' and grins, before heading for the door. "Nice getting to know you." she says, by way of a parting shot. There's a little stretch of her shoulders, and then she bounces up the stairs and out, looking for all the world as if nothing has happened at all.