Time/Date :It is currently 07:19 Pacific Time on Tue Dec 18 2007.

Place : Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining. The temperature is 36 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.54 and falling, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 34 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (59% full).

Greek House: 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.

Looking at Zeke:

A young man who may just be approaching his late teens, Zeke is not overly tall- topping off at about 5'10", and not overly muscled. He does look fit though, perhaps the kind of average physique that suggests an active lifestyle opposed to hours spent on the weight bench. His carriage is modest and without any aloofness about him, though he does not give the impression of being uncomfortable in his skin either.
His face is a oval rather than narrow, broad cheeked and with a wide, easy grin. A fair skinned complexion grants an even starker contrast for his jade-green eyes. The three-day stubble he wears seems to be planned rather than a show of laziness, or perhaps he just doesn't grow facial hair very well; regardless, the hair outlines over his lip and on the lowest part of his chin.
His clothes are simple and effective, and no matter what time of year it is, Zeke is found wearing long sleeve shirts and a wide variety of beanie hats- always worn down past the ears. His jeans appear well worn and loved, and his shoes are of the common Mall Shoestore variety. He's also a fond supporter of hooded sweatshirts and jackets- again, hood always up.

Kathryn-Laura(#3278POXc)

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 doesn't know - with a cold fury, as if trying to decide exactly which way to kill them.
KL has pale skin decorated in two places - on her left upper arm is a largish tattoo of something that looks a little like a bear, with its jaws spread wide and slaver falling in droplets. It has the words "No Mercy" written with gusto beneath it. On her right shoulder-blade, if visible, is a second tattoo, two-inch-square, 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.
Around her neck hangs a pendant, an oval disk made of some kind of bone. It looks like it's been decorated with carved designs, which are somewhat hard to make out on casual inspection. The pendant is hung on a leather thong.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" The morning peace of the Fury House, that island of tranquilty, that paragon of minimalism, is destroyed by the yelling of a female voice, coming vaguely from the direction of the dining room.

From upstairs comes Zeke, running like a madman. He's without his hat, and he's wearing short sleeves, apparently, just having woken up from the shouting. "What's wrong? What's going on!?" he calls as he opens the door and looks into the upper level of the house.

KL, for it is she, is hopping around the dining room spraying blood from one hand. The other one is clasped around it in a vague attempt to stem the fountain. The possible culprit is still clutched in the clasping hand - something that looks like a small chisel. On the dining table is a board, on top of which are what appears to be selection of craft materials. On hearing Zeke, KL wheels around to face him. "I chiselled my hand," she says, numbly.

Zeke winces at this and moves forward to quickly grab a towel. "Shift then!" he announces, as if this were the most obvious solution. He glances to the table as he reaches to take the offending tools from her hand.

"Oh," KL says, blushing a little. "Good thought." She swells up into Glabro, and in barely thirty seconds, the flow stops and the wound seals. On the table are hole-punches, needles, and what looks like a sheet of brown tanned leather, with a design incised on it, quite neatly, except for one line that suddenly goes deeper, then blatantly off line. Shifting back down, KL looks around at the blood-splattered furniture. "Ooops."

Zeke has moved to the kitchen now, and he comes back with a damp towel to hand over to her. A sigh escapes him and he looks at her, mussy hair sticking every which way out. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes," KL says, inspecting the blood all over her hand. "Cool. Thanks." She takes the towel and starts wiping up her hand. "Who would have thought making christmas presents would be so...um...well, risky?" she asks, as her hand turns back from red to a more normal pale pink. There's no sign of any wound at all, beneath the coating.

Zeke nods, "What are you making?" He looks over the items and tools, then blinks. "Oh, oh sorry..." he turns to make a quick jog back down to the basement then.

KL blinks confusedly, and waits for the Metis to return, turning her mopping up attentions to the table and chairs. "Who would have thought the old hand had so much blood in it?" she wonders to herself.

When he returns, he's got long sleeves on and his hat is up on his head. He moves to get another rag to help her start cleaning up the mess. "So. Um, what are you making with all this stuff?"

"This?" KL asks. "Well, it was going to be an armguard - you know, for archery - for Nike." She picks it up. "Not sure the blood adds anything. Oh well." She blinks. "That reminds me. What do you want for Christmas? I know we're not supposed to celebrate it, really. Call it Yule if you like. But I like giving presents at this time of year. I take it you aren't into archery?"

Zeke looks down to the leather and where the blood has marred it. "You can take a dark stain to it. Nike may like it more to know you put literal blood and sweat into making it." A thoughtful moment passes and he shakes his head, "Nike is trying to teach me to shoot, it's not, well it isn't well suited for me, but we're working on it." "I like hats."

The Ahroun ponders this, "I'm not sure I can *make* a hat," she decides, "but we'll see what I can do." She inspects the putative armguard closely. "OK, maybe it's salvagable, for me if not for Nike." She peers at Zeke. "I'm worried about you," she says, simply.

Zeke looks up at her then, "Pardon?" The metis seems absolutely caught off guard by this. "Why would you be worried about me?" The question comes phrased as if it were a ludicrous thought that anyone would be worried about the boy, but the tone suggests it a more simple question of 'what is there' to worry about.

"Because you don't have it easy," KL says, sitting back down in her seat, having first wiped the blood off it. "And because you've had at least one pretty bad knock, and I can't believe your confidence is that high." She grimaces. "And I'm not awful at reading body language, and...do you remember when I first met you? Outside the door?"

Zeke glances away now, nodding. "I recall." He moves to sit at the table, picking up one of the tools to examine it more carefullly, or perhaps to keep his attention off the Ahroun.

"And I got all pissy with you, and you...well...you stood up to me without provoking me into a fight?" KL says. "And I look at you now, and the way you're beh...WILL YOU FUCKING WELL LOOK AT ME!" She slams a hand down flat on the table as she yells this.

Zeke flinches a bit at the slamming of the table, and he does in fact look up at the Ahroun. His brow pinches together. "How am I behaving?" he asks her with just the faintest edge to the question.

KL shakes her head, eyes fixed on Zeke, but without hostility. "Like you're scared of your own shadow," she says. "And I don't know all the ins and outs, and I may be way out of line here. But that's not a good way for a Garou to be. And it's why I'm worried about you. And in case you're wondering why I give a fuck - " she points at the table " - your blood is my blood. And I think you're a good person and a good Garou. And in some ways - probably only some ways - I've been where I think you are. I'm trying, not particularly fucking well, I admit, to do what I wish someone had done for me when I was there. I didn't give them a chance. I'm as sure as fuck not going to let you not give me a chance."

Zeke tenses at the conversation that comes out of the Ahrouns mouth. He glances at the crimson stains still settling on some of the table items, then looks back to her. "What do you want me to tell you? You want to hear what I hear screaming through my thoughts? I'm trying to sort it out KL, and I know that I am no good to anyone like this, but I lost a lot of footing okay? And this Sept here is not like home. Not in the least."

"Yes, I want to hear it," KL says, leaning forward. "And I'm trying to tell you that I know what you mean by losing a footing. I'm trying to offer you a hand to cling to while you get your feet back under you. Maybe I'm the wrong person. But if everyone thinks that then you wander around thinking no-one cares. I care. Tell me or don't tell me - your choice. I just want to offer you the fucking choice."

Zeke lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm shook. I don't know what to think anymore KL. I don't think like I used to, I'm not... convinced with my own programming. That scares me."

KL nods encouragingly. "What's changed? What thoughts don't work the right way, or the old way, rather," she prompts.

Zeke glances upstairs and to the rest of the house, "I'd rather not speak of it here. Can we go for a walk?":

"Sure!" KL says, standing up. "Nice day for a walk." She peers outside. "If you don't mind the rain." She heads for the back door, leaving craft materials and blood everywhere.

Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)

Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the town of Kent's Crossing.

Zeke nods his head and moves to get up, heading out toward the back of the house and woodsward. Once they are a fair distance from the house, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I'm a male among Furies KL, and a metis among Half Moons. I was raised to have certain answers, to know protocol. Programmed, so to speak." He shakes his head, "I'd started having doubts after meeting Kaz, and some of the others here. Then, then the Roxanne thing. It tore the ledge out from under me."

KL nods, pulling her jacket close around her. "Can you tell me what those doubts were about?" she asks. "Tribe? Sept? Being a Garou altogether?" she suggests.

"Mostly, auspicious doubts. Though I can't say that being a Fury doesn't bring doubt to me. It's strange. I was accepted at home KL. I was not mistreated or roughly handled. No more than any cub would have been. But it was a different mindset than here. And now, after my time with that woman." The words 'that woman' are nearly spat out. "My mind is changed. It's not whole."

The Ahroun considers this. "I can't really help with the Auspice-related problems, other than to say that I prefer your attitude, as a philodox, to many others." And there's a trace of her own bitterness here. "But I can say the following - I don't speak for the Furies, yet - but as far as I am concerned, you are my brother. As I said before, my blood is your blood. Or was it the other way around? Anyway - point stands." She takes a step closer to him, stopping. "Um... I'm not much good at this. Do you want a hug? I would like to give you one."

Zeke looks to the Ahroun, face deadpan. Then he grins and laughs gently, nodding. "I'm not good at them either, but yes. And thank you, for what you've said." He lets his arms open up so she can step into them. "I'm working on this stuff KL, honest. I just, it's hard when your whole foundation of learning is pulled out from under you."

KL steps forward and, if the hug is awkward, it's at least meant. "Can I ask you a question?" she says. "If you were attacked by, oh, lets say, a fomori. And it hit your leg, and damaged the tendons. And you weren't able to walk until it healed, and that was going to take a while - tendon injuries can hang around for a bit, I've noticed. What would you do?"

Zeke gives her a look, "If it were me? Or in general if it were anyone. I'd be pretty crippled on a leg injury. If I couldn't walk at all? For how long do you think? A few weeks? I'd probably spend my time healing in the caern."

KL nods. "It's not that different, what's happened to you. You've been wounded by enemy action." She grimaces. "Maybe more deeply than my analogy, and certainly in a different way. But it will take time to heal, and maybe you won't be the same again. Not all of our battle scars are on the outside. Just the less serious ones."

Zeke looks to her at this last statement, eyes suddenly wide on her. "And they say Ahrouns are not known for profound wisdom." He smiles at her, a hand reaching out to take her own and squeeze it. "Maybe I will spend the thick of the moon in the Caern then. If I do, will you come see me there?"

"Of course I will," KL says. "Not like I can go into the city much." She grins. "And now, I should go back and try to do something about that bombsite I left behind. Coming?" And with that, she heads off back toward the Fury House.


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