Time/Date :It is currently 21:17 Pacific Time on Thu Apr 3 2008.

Place :

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southwest at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.16 and rising, and the relative humidity is 82 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase : Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (17% full).

Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)

This is the central hub of the house. From here, you can still see the entrance foyer to the west, as well as the stairway that heads to the second story. Towards the eastern side of the common area is a set of glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. To the north, an arched doorway leads to what apparently serves as a less formal lounge, with a couch and an armchair, and to the south, 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.


he isn't plump, so much as zaftig: the literal translation is "juicy," and it fits. Though she isn't, technically speaking, overweight, this teenager definitely doesn't belong on a runway or in Vogue--not with that chest and those hips, not with an hourglass shape and those broad, strong shoulders. Her classic oval face and large dark eyes have a quiet girl-next-door attractiveness, framed by waves of brown-black hair that fall in soft disarray to the middle of her back. Despite softness in certain strategic places, she seems fit; her body has some noticeable muscle, but not the sort of cut definition that comes from long hours in the gym.
Wherever she goes, whatever she is doing, she moves with quiet purpose and grace, and an indefinable undercurrent of restraint. Her voice has presence as well, a low warm alto that feels soft around the edges.
She wears low-riding, frayed jeans, comfy rather than tight. A fitted long-sleeved tee, waffle-knit in tie-dyed black and red, hugs the pronounced curves of her upper body. Over this she wears a hooded wool sweater that looks handknit, grey with red and black nordic designs. New hiking boots peek out below the muddied hems of her jeans.


Now in her early twenties, KL has lost much of the teenage stroppiness that characterised her younger self. It has been replaced by a slower burning, though still as fierce, intensity. She is still on the short side, standing perhaps 5'2" tall in her bare feet, and has a slightly built and slender frame, with a tight musculature that speaks of plentiful exercise. When she moves, she displays a compact grace, poise and balance. Even if she still occasionally slouches.
She has long, mid-brown - uncharitable people would say mousy - hair which she usually wears in a long plait that falls down between her shoulder-blades, secured at the top and the bottom with wide black leather bands. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. There's something off-putting about her, though - she has an aggressive posture, a tendency to glare at people - particularly people she doesn't know, and an air of barely-restrained violence.
She 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.
Unless obscured by clothing, visible across her throat is a fairly horrendous scar, an angry stripe running from the bottom right corner until it terminates just below her jawline on the left side. More likely to be obscured is the scar in the small of her back, faded and older, but just as horrible.
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. She's also wearing a pair of killer Lara Croft-style shades, which go some way to disguising the rampant hostility of her gaze. A bit. Maybe. Finally, in an effort to hide the scar on her throat, she has a dark-blue silk scarf tied around her neck, the ends thrown back over her left shoulder.

Thursday evening, of the third of April. The moon is slim in the sky above St. Claire, when it's visible through the broken cloud cover at all. In the Fury House, KL is involved in a delicate and difficult task. That is, she's standing in front of a mirror posing. A new pair of shades, Lara Croft-style, is perched on her nose, and she's trying a variety of looks to go with it. Because that's what tribal elders do.

Thea comes in quietly, backpack draped from one shoulder. As she's kicking the mud off her boots in the doorway, she regards the woman in the foyer a bit quizzically. "Um, hi," she says, stepping in and closing the door behind her. "You okay, there?"

"Oh yeah," KL says, turning away from the mirror. "New shades," she explains, pointing at them. "I think they look cool, and maybe they'll help stop people running and screaming when I ask them for directions." She pauses. "I've been meaning to speak to you. How do you feel it's going?"

Thea lifts one shoulder, and glances away. "I don't know," she answers. Looking down to the floor, thoughtful, she says, "I've just been... staying at the Caern a lot. Learning the wolf some. I guess... I'm a little less freaked out about it, now. And I understand the law." A deep breath, and she looks up. "What do I have to know, to get rited?"

KL gestures to a seat, and sits down. "Right," she says, "basically, you need to know the following things." She starts counting off on her fingers. "One, the litany, and what it means, and how we as a tribe have traditionally interpreted it. Two, how to handle yourself in all your forms. Three, a bit about the Furies, and our history and values. Four, how to handle a bow. Five, your auspice specific stuff." She nods. "That's about it. And I need to get a gut feeling you're ready, or... well, I won't send you. People die on their rites of passage. No Fury will."

Thea sets down her pack, while the woman is speaking. She dusts off her jeans--checking for Caern dirt--and then drops into a chair, leaning forward, elbows and knees. Eyes lowered in thought, she gives a quiet nod. "Auspice stuff, I'm good. Unless I'm supposed to know rites or anything." She swallows, and ducks her head a little. "I need to get... more comfortable with the war form. I'm still-- it's still... a problem." A careful breath, and she adds, "I'm not really sure how to get past it."

The Ahroun smiles. "Get past it in what sense?" she asks. "Past it to Lupus, or past it in the sense that you keep falling over and bashing your nose on rocks?" She rubs her nose, indicating that this might be something she's done in the past.

Thea isn't smiling; rather, her expression is distant, as she looks away. "Past it in that I've killed too many people with those claws. And I never want to see blood on them again, and..." her brow furrows, and she bows her head again, staring at the floor beneath her feet. "And that's a serious problem."

KL winces. "Yes, I can see that," she says, carefully. "And I won't say that that's not a wrong thing, that's happened. Not your fault, though. Without help, it's uncontrollable." She purses her lips. "This isn't the area where I'm an expert, or particularly good," she confesses. "But I want you to try and think of it like this - you have a choice, now. Those people are gone, and there's nothing you can do to undo it. But there are people who you will be able to help, to defend, if you are prepared to be what you can and should be. Without you, they'll die... or worse." She shakes her head. "I warned you, not good at this. But do you understand what I'm driving at?"

Thea nods. "Yeah. I try to take that line with myself. It helps, some." Her brow furrows. "I guess it's just a wall I've gotta barrel through."

"Yes," KL says. "But you don't have to do it alone. And if you find you can't, then there are some things we can do, but they aren't easy or pleasant. For anybody concerned." She looks down and away for a moment, before returning, eyes unreadable behind dark glass. "So," she asks. "Do you want to show me what you can do?"

Thea looks across to her, eyes narrowed slightly in thought. There's a determined set to her chin, as she nods. "Sure. I just came from the Caern, but we could go back."

KL nods. "Nothing like exercise to get you in the mood for more exercise." She gets ready to head out with Thea. Still sporting her snazzy specs.

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