Time/Date :It is currently 03:29 Pacific Time on Thu Jun 7 2007.

Place : Burial Mounds

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.10 and steady, and the relative humidity is 80 percent. The dewpoint is 44 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (56% full).

Burial Mounds(#3207RJ$)

This wide clearing in the midst of short, dark pines is rough with wild grass and bare stone. The air is a bit cooler up here in the foothills than below, and the majestic peaks of the nearby mountains rear up over the eastern treetops. There is a vine-covered boulder standing under the edge of the somber evergreens to the east. The air here is prenaturally still and the grass waves not at all for there is no breeze that blows through the pines. It is silent, no call of bird thrown from the treetops to dance gaily in the open spaces. Occasionally chill fingers run up your spine.

Looking at Isaac:

This silver furred wolf is tall and broad of chest, though almost too thin around his ribs and middle. It is as though he has been surviving on a sparse diet for which he works very hard. His green eyes take in the world around him, but seldom remain still and almost seem to avoid contact with others. Still, his gait and manner have a sure and noble bearing. On those occasions when he is still, there almost appears to be something more to him, something familiar and yet unknowable. A single scar covered by short white hairs runs vertically over the middle of his chest.


Sometime over the last couple of years, a teen girl with a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper has grown up, and matured into a young woman. With a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper. KL is a little over five-foot tall - no late growth spurt for her - and slimly built. She moves quickly, and is rarely still for any length of time. Her natural balance and co-ordination are clearly evident in her movement, but any hint of grace is smothered with her air of irritation, hostility and restrained aggression. She manages to turn even simple activities - like ordering fries - into not particularly subtle attempts to provoke fights.
Her mousy-brown hair hangs loose around her shoulders, the front falling to frame her face. Her hair looks like it has been cut recently, and by someone with at least a little skill. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. However, any level of appeal her physical appearance might have is swamped by the anger in her gaze and the sullen set of her mouth. She stares at people - particularly people she doesnt know - with a cold fury, as if trying to decide exactly which way to kill them.
KL has pale skin, and on her right shoulder-blade is a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse. There isn't much in the way of excess flesh on her, her cheekbones are clearly visible and her bare arms have a tight musculature that speaks of regular and plentiful exercise.
She is wearing a pair of blue jeans that look brand-new, and have a designer label clearly visible on the rear, a pair of combat boots that also look new. On her upper half she is sporting a rather snazzy black leather jacket over a clean new white t-shirt.

The small hours, on a fairly chilly night. Above, the half-obscured Luna fades into and out of clouds, causing the light to come and go. KL is sitting, in homid, amid the burial mounds. Her jacket is pulled tight around her body, and she's cuddling herself for warmth, and perhaps comfort. She's talking, though not apparently to anyone. "...so, I thought it was past time that I stepped up to the plate. You know, made a difference." A sigh. "I don't know if you can hear me or not, Clem. Hope you can."

From the hills to the east, the sounds of Isaac's approach are difficult to miss. The underbrush rustles, and small twigs snap before the silver-white wolf is visible at the edge of the clearing.

After a few moments, KL looks up, eyes focussing in the direction that Isaac's coming from. Her reddened eyes indicate that she's been crying, at some point in the recent past, though she seems in control. The Fury scrambles to her feet, squinting to try and make out who it is. "Hello?" she says. "Who's that?"

Isaac emerges, bits of leaf and detritus giving his coat a mottled appearance in the dim light. He lets out a bit of a whine, stretching forward with his head lowered and tilted to the side. Why sad?

"I'm not sad," KL says, forthrightly, folding her arms across her chest, and taking a couple of steps towards Isaac. She pauses. "Ok, well I was a bit sad, but only a bit. I was talking to my friend, Clemency, Fire-Burns-Forever. And I miss her, and that makes me sad, but also proud, because she died gloriously." Her gaze gets a little harder. "You didn't answer my question, though?"

Isaac rises fully and stands with a firmer posture, tail lifting in confidence. Am Innocence. Silver Fang. Half moon. He gives a rough shake and looks around. Dead friend howl to you?

"KL Cole, Escapes-From-Money, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies, just about still packed under Wolverine as part of...all of...HAVOC," KL introduces herself. "And no, I don't think so. I don't know. Sometimes it felt like she heard me, sometimes not. Talking was good for me, though, whether or not she replies."

Isaac settles onto his haunches and licks his nose. Howled for Stands Defiant. Howled for Victory. Howled for Justice. Never heard answers. Hope Star said howl was good. One ear twitches backward, uncertain. He rises and steps toward the Black Fury, sniffing at her without coming too close. Not so obtrusive as a wolf might be, but nearly so. Smell you, before. Smell you here?

"Possibly," KL replies. "I've been around before, at moots. You might remember me as the one who brought the tainted cub to the caern." She looks sad at the memory. "Though I've done other, better, deeds, too."

Isaac's ears twitch, first left, then right, then both. Wyrm bad, he states, as though agreeing with something KL has said. His muzzle wrinkles and he sneezes. Then, with a shake that begins at his nose and travels down his spine to the tip of his tail, he begins to shift. It's a rather slow process, as though unpracticed, but eventually he arrives at homid in an uncomfortable crouch. A fine, black cowboy hat, slightly too small for his head, is perched precariously atop is unkempt and overly long red hair. He grabs it with both hands and pulls it down as far as it will go as he rises.


Isaac appears to be in his late twenties. At about six feet, his broad and muscular shoulders lend his frame a boxy appearance. Dark, reddish hair is cut short, in a boyish rather than militaristic style. His face is cleanshaven, lending him a youthful countenance belying his years. Hazel-green eyes seem unfocused, and rarely maintain contact for long, drifting from point to point. His large hands are warm, and despite calouses of hard use, still soft and often clammy. His, perhaps overly lean frame is clothed in relatively new garments. He wears a clean, white T-shirt, and new, unfaded jeans cover his legs, and mud-stained and scuffed white running shoes adorn his feet. Around his waist, proudly displayed and not through any beltloops, he wears a large belt with a big, bull belt-buckle. A slightly too small black cowboy hat is pulled snuggly onto his head. His round face is not so large as to be too large; neither is it too thin. It is not, in fact, most things; and yet it is pronounced in a way that words do not well describe. It seems that you may have seen this man before; though where you cannot say.

And then, all of a sudden, rather than looking down upon the wolf, KL is looking up at the man. She looks him up and down. "Howdy," she says, eventually. "Yes, it was bad. Stupid. But I was punished." A shrug. "What brings you out here this late?" She seems discomfited by the change, as if she's not quite sure how to make the conversation carry on through the change of forms.

Isaac hooks his thumbs into his big belt and grins at KL. "I come here sometimes. I smell things, in case bad things come, too."

"Good," KL says, taking a step forward. "Smell me." It doesn't quite sound like an insult, but it's just a bit more forceful than it needs to be. "I don't think I'm tainted, but it's been a while since I was checked, and there's at least one period I have no memory of."

Isaac tips his head to the side in a very lupine gesture and he studies the Ahroun for a moment without adjusting his posture further. Then he licks his upper lip, straightens, and turns in a small circle, sniffling all the while.

The Fury stands there, arms folded, eyes fixed on the Philodox as he does his work. She cocks a foot up, puts it back down, shifts her weight onto it, and then looks demandingly at the theurge. "Well?"

Isaac says "I don't smell anything bad right now."

"Good," KL says, and then grins. "Thanks. So, um..." She furrows her brow. "I'm sure I've heard of you, but I can't remember. You have another name?" Her arms unfold and drop to hang easily by her sides. "As well as coming out her to talk to Clem, I was kind of hoping to run into people."

Isaac pulls a wadded up, knotted, and completely greyish-brown bit length of string from his pocket. He tugs at a loop of the tangle without looking down. "Sometimes people call me Chews Rocks. And sometimes people call me Stands Alone. And Dies for Others called me Stands Alone No Longer. And Sepdet called me Open Heart. And sometimes people call me Isaac. But you can't say that when you're a wolf."

"Some of us have trouble with our deednames when we're wolves," The Fury comments. "I...don't often come out to this side of the caern. The Fury House is that way," she points west. "And so I've tended to stick to the western bawn, when I come. And I've started to think that's bad. I don't want to be a city-and-farmhouse-only one. So I thought I'd come over here some more, and go to the compound. I'm sure I'll irritate people, a bit. But...we're all part of the same Sept." She shrugs. "I just want to feel it." A pause. "Any news? Oh, and have you seen a Shadow Lord called Felix at any point? He might have been hurt?"

Isaac shakes his head, almost dislodging his hat. "I don't know any Shadow Lords. Except the Dragon Lady. And Thunder's Claws. And Ilya. But the Dragon Lady and Ilya went away a long time ago. And Thunder's Claws is right over there." He points at one of the older stones.

KL looks respectfully over at the stone, and nods. "So many..." she surveys the burial ground. "I can't quite describe how it makes me feel. Sad and proud at the same time? Just like with Clemency?" A pause. "Is there anything you need? That I can bring you?"

Isaac brings the string up to his mouth and holds a length between his teeth. Then he pulls at a bit of the biggest knot with his chipped and dirty fingernails. "Ung uhn," he answers. Releasing the string from his jaws, he takes a moment to inspect it before looking to KL again. "Except. If you know where Brittany is? Because I was supposed to get my hair cut a long time ago and I forgot."

The Fury shakes her head slowly. "I don't know a Brittany. But if you want your hair cut, I'm sure Alesia - Rises-Above-The-Demons - she's a theurge of my tribe - would be willing to do it. She did mine and it came out quite well. Who was Brittany?"

Isaac says "Brittany is my friend. She buys me clothes. And cuts my hair. And she tells me what to do, sometimes. She was sometimes the in charge person." His face scrunches up, gaze turning upward and to the side. "But sometimes not.""

"Kin? Or Garou?" KL says, concerned. "And...when did you last see her? How long ago?" She bites her bottom lip, looking worried.

Isaac's brows furrow in thought. "Brittany is a Silver Fang, like me. And she has a half a moon. Like me." Again a pause, the corner of his lip sliding between his teeth as he considers. "It was before the winter. Maybe in the summer."

The Fury muses to herself for a few moments. "No...Blackriver is Katya, I think." She looks up. "I think Brittany has been gone a bit longer than that," she says, eventually. "Who else do you see? Ciuraq? James?"

Isaac's hand rises to scratch his head, knocking the hat to the side. He grabs at it several times as it falls, catching it just as it hits the ground. "I met Blackriver I think. I don't know what Chehak smells like. I don't know what James smells like."

"I'm sure you must have seen Ciuraq. Circle Keeper." KL says. "He looks like a polar bear, only don't tell him I said that. Big and white, anyway." She studies Isaac closely. "You must spend a lot of time alone."

Isaac shakes his head and grins broadly. "I made puppies!" He points up into the mountains to the east.

The Fury smiles warmly. "You did? Congratulations! How old are they? Are any Garou?" She glances to the east. "I don't think I've ever made it quite that far, even when I was...running away, sort of. I went more south."

Isaac's gaze slides side to side uncertainly. "They're puppies," he repeats. "And the older ones are watching and hunting and it's okay when I go away to make sure the bad things aren't smelling here, because there's older ones to watch."

KL nods. "I'm sure," she says, calmly. She glances at the slowly lightening sky. "I should be getting back home, I think." A look up at the Philodox. "Good to meet you. I shall be back out here soon, I think, maybe go farther east. Gaia keep you well."

"Okay. Bye," Isaac says. Then he tugs his hat more firmly on his head, stuffs his string back into his pocket, and shifts back into his lupus form. Without a backward glance, he begins padding to the east.

The Fury raises an eyebrow, and starts to walk off towards the west, with only a slow glance over the Burial mounds as a farewell.

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