[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen wasn't much of an unfamiliar sight in Last Watch's territory, she'd taken to paling around with Linus (if you could call it that, often his lessons were brutal to both body and spirit) when her mentor was not around. Often these lessons took place at night and she would crash in the church on a hard pew bench under a blanket. On the latest occasion she'd returned with no clothing, all of it lost to shifting as none of it was dedicated. She'd had to borrow some of Roman's clothes, he was in reality the closest person to her size, Kora's statuesque figure dwarfed Gwen's average height and stature.
Tonight she didn't come by for a lesson, she wasn't trailing after the Godi looking worn out and beat up, yet enlightened all the more for it (Fenrir were a strange, masochistic species). Gwen walked the sidewalk in front of the church alone, dressed appropriately for the weather in a large navy blue winter jacket, a pair of jeans tucked into black winter boots, with a red cap on her head and red gloves on her hands and, to top it off, a red scarf about her neck. Despite these accommodations her cheeks were rosy and her nose red with the cold.
The flat heels of her boots crunched the salt and frost on the sidewalk, her hands were in her pockets, and her stride was slow to the point of meandering indecision. She was looking toward the church front, but seemed unsure about whether she wanted to knock on the door or not, so she was taking as much time as possible to get there from the corner of the block.
[Roman Turner] The soft crunch of ice likely alerted Gwen to another's presence as a dark clad figure came up behind her on the sidewalk. This one was not wearing a Stetson, it had a black knit stocking cap on with patterns of gray and white interwoven. Roughly the same size as the girl in the red knit cap, this one had a finger pointed directly at her center, hand thrust out like holding a gun.
"Freeze!"
[Gwen Sullivan] Still a Cub, the killing reflex hadn't been instilled in her quite yet. Most Garou, when led to believe they were being held at gunpoint, would turn around all aggression and muscle, possibly even claws, and have the would-be assaulter on their backs and prone in a heartbeat. At the very least they would be disarmed, have their jaws or noses broken.
Rather, Gwen responded with a startle, her body jumping and feet ceasing forward march. Her hands stayed in her pockets rather than lifting above her head like the movies would lead you to believe you should do when someone yells 'freeze', and her posture straightened-- or stiffened, depending on who you asked and whether you perceived her reaction as being intelligent or due to fear.
Perhaps the former, because instead of keeping straight forward and waiting for demands she turned her head to peer back toward the figure with one eye, with peripherals, to determine weapon type, the size of the guy, and when the right time would be to give him a solid shove into a parked car.
...No gun, just a finger.
She turned about completely, a scowl painted on her face, and moved her hands out of her pockets. "What the hell kind of stunt is this?"
[Roman Turner] As soon as Gwen turned and made her demand, it was met with the firing of something from that finger. Through the air it flew to smack her right in the nose with a soft plop before rolling off to the ground. There on the ground lay the projectile. A tiny knit reindeer lay at crumpled at Gwen's feet.
"Oh dear, ya done killed my deer. Happy New Year Miss Gwen! Why ain'tcha pretty with that red hat and all."
[Gwen Sullivan] As she turned about a little bundle of brown yarn and stuffing hit her right in the face and hit the ground. She wrinkled her nose, scrunched her face up some as though she expected whatever was going to hit her would either hurt or be disgusting and stick to her. Eyes opened, dropped to the deer, and she squatted to scoop it up and just counted herself lucky the little knit toy didn't catch on her upper lip piercing and tug it painfully.
The deer was tossed up and down in a gloved hand, and she looked Roman full in the face, knowing who he was when he spoke in his normal sort of voice so any expression of surprise didn't have a chance to manifest. The finger gun and toy reindeer demolished any fret of danger.
"Thanks," to the compliment on the hat. "Used to be white, but I decided blood shows less on the red than it does on the lighter colors." Practical through and through, it seemed. She sniffed against the cold and turned the toy deer over in her hands, looking at it thoughtfully. "Happy New Year to you too. No excitement tonight?" By excitement she could mean anything, though in truth she was wondering if the spirits went crazy during the new year like the did during the Solstice. Probably not, the calendar was more of a Human thing.
[Roman Turner] "No trouble yet, though we took a loss in losing Night's Reprieve."
He held out his hand for the reindeer as the freezing cold air turned each breath he exhaled in to a white fog.
"Brown is better for hiding blood, it turns brown as it dries."
He advised on the hat.
"What's got you out here tonight? Looking for Linus? I ain't seen him yet."
[Gwen Sullivan] Her eyebrows lifted when he delivered the news of a loss, someone with a Name, which made it heavy news. She seemed surprised, apprehensively so, that he skated so easily onto the next subject. It had her wary of how high the death rate must be, how short the expected lifespan probably was. Her brow furrowed a bit as she handed the toy over, dropping it into his upturned palm.
Brown being a better color made sense, she should've thought further ahead, and tapped a mittened finger to the side of her pierced nose to show she understood. As for what she was doing out there... Her shoulders shrugged casually, dismissively.
"Just walked and my feet brought me here, I suppose." It was much easier an explanation and less... unsavory than explaining that she'd separated from her parents' household (for the safety of everyone in question) and didn't get a chance to replace it with another home just yet. That she was hoping she could find an excuse to stick around.
"...Who was Night's Reprieve? How did he go?"
[Roman Turner] "He was Fenrir, same as Kora and Linus, a Full Moon. Word is he died saving Kin from Dancers."
He pulled the collar of the Carhart coat up higher, then pulled down the sides of the cap to cover more of his ears.
"Ya know, you're welcome to come inside where it's warmer. We got lots of room, as ya know."
He indicated the church with a cocking of his head.
[Gwen Sullivan] "Hmm," is the extent of her response to his explaining about Night's Reprieve. Her eyes drifted past Roman's shoulder, settled on empty space in the distance. She was thinking of how easily that could have been her death a few weeks back, when she and Cordelia found themselves both bamboozled and led into a trap. When she'd taken the life of one with her own claws and teeth and the life of the other with his own gun. She'd thought of how strangely sorrowful she felt with the last death, how he'd pressed his own head into the mouth of the pistol and waited for the kill.
He was speaking again, though, after adjusting his coat collar and the beanie that replaced the typical cowboy hat on his head, and she focused on him once more, pupils sharpening back to attention rather than being cleared with the typical blink that marked transition from past thought to present time.
"Not a terrible idea. I'd appreciate it." She sniffed some, a sound in the winter as common as singing birds in the spring. Runny noses had nothing to do with illness, it was all a part of cold exposure.
[Roman Turner] "Besides, Kora is use to me bringing folk in from the cold. I feel like it don't matter if we are same family or not, cousins is still family and if ya have the room, ya should gather all them that needs a space and make one big family out of what ya got. Sort of like that Stone Soup story in a way."
He turned for the church, falling in step with Gwen.
"So, I'm thinking hot soup and something hot to drink. Whatcha think about that?"
He was dying to ask her why she was out here and his good manners wouldn't last much longer.
[Gwen Sullivan] "I don't think Kora would be too bothered anyways." She was nipping at the back of her lip piercing as she turned to walk toward the church, hands falling into her pockets once more, but only after shifting her scarf so it better covered her jaw, cheeks and nose. She spoke through the scarf, it muffled her voice, but no doubt as a grace of the Moon under which she was born it was easy to hear her anyways. Not as Kora's was, not because it was something she had perfect control over, but because something in her presence, despite her inexperience and youth, spoke of budding authority.
"That sounds great. It's these months that make you feel like you need to be warmed from the inside out." She mused this quietly, gray-green eyes focused up ahead rather than on the Child of Gaia she walked beside.
"Stone Soup isn't a story I've ever heard. My parents were more about Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and The Velveteen Rabbit."
[Roman Turner] "Really? Ya ain't never heard the story of Stone Soup?"
He turned his head to regard Gwen like he found a new bug or something.
"There was this man that was starving and he went begging for food and no one would share with him. So he found himself a pot, filled it with water and started a fire under it right in the middle of the village square. It weren't long before someone wondered what he was up to, because they knew he didn't have nothing to cook. So they started watching and he picked up this stone and put it in the pot of water and started stirring it around."
[Gwen Sullivan] "That sounds familiar..."
She sniffed and dipped her chin then nodded her head back up again, securing how her scarf sat over her nose by nudging it back up the bridge of it without having to remove her hands from her pockets. The thought of soup sounded good because it was warm, not because she was starved. She had money in her bank account, but she didn't want to waste it on motel rooms and knew she couldn't hold up a lease to an apartment. So she kept her belly full, her clothes insulated, and drifted.
Only problem with drifting was you had to land somewhere. She did anyways, she wasn't made of the same stuff that Striders were. That would be why she was accepting an almost obligated invitation up the church steps and to the front door.
"Doesn't it magically turn into something substantial? And then he shares it with everyone even though they were dicks and wouldn't share with him first?" Childhood stories weren't so much a page in Gwen's childhood as painting and coloring and little league were.
[Roman Turner] "Yessum, it went like this. After a while he sipped at the stone soup, drinking from the spoon and smacking his lips. One of the villagers came out to see what the crazy man was doing and the man said. I'm making stone soup, ain't nothing so tasty, though once I had it with cabbage and it was even better. Still, this will do. Well guilt and curiosity got the better of the villager and he came up with his hidden cabbage to add to the pot. More villagers came and more vegetables were slowly added and before long, they had a wonderful soup they all shared."
He climbed the stairs with Gwen and opened the door of the church for her. Heat rushed out and though it was far from hot inside, compared to the cold outside, it was a welcoming thing.
"That's this Pack, this family that we gather here, piece by piece. We are stone soup and we are stronger, more flavorable and richer for it."
[Gwen Sullivan] Roman finished the story and opened the heavy front door of the church, waiting for her to step inside like his momma taught him to do in the presence of a lady, regardless if she was a leggy Kinfolk or a sturdy (but not enough to be considered stout) young Garou like himself. She nodded her thanks to him and stepped inside, tugging the scarf down off her nose right away and loosening it from around her throat, pulling off her mittens and tucking them into the pockets of her jacket, which she'd start to unzip once a few more paces inside.
It wasn't a toasty seventy degrees, you'd still want to wear a sweater or huddle against a space heater, but it was far more bearable than eighteen degrees and a sharp, snow-laced wind.
She grinned a little, and while it didn't manifest as fully on her face as it would on most kids her and Roman's age it was still present in her eyes and the faint, almost lazy curve of her mouth. "That's downright beautiful, Roman. You should hang it on the wall." There's teasing in these words for certain, but honesty underneath it. It was a good story and a good moral to keep. It suited him as what he was, a Child of Gaia and the least Rage-Clouded moon.
[Roman Turner] His laughter barked out when Gwen said he should hang what he said on the wall.
"Ya know, I'm pretty sure Kora would think I done found it in the church cellar and it was here all along. Unless I spray painted it or something."
He closed the door behind them and called out.
"I'm gonna huff and puff and blow your door down. Come out, come out where ever you are!"
Whispering aside to Gwen.
"Rain's here, I can smell her. This is where you throw in something to stir her up."
[Rain McKellar] Rain was in the kitchen area, or what passed for a kitchen area in the Church turned packhouse. She had a pan of water on the stove and was hoping, that just maybe, the burner would stay lit long enough to bring it to a simmer. Then she could make cocoa, or cider -- though her stash of cider packets was dwindling, as both she and Roman seemed to prefer them. There were a couple prized Dark Chocolate hot cocoa packets left to offer around, too. The Gaian's notebook laid open on the table, filled with the faint pencil scratching of her odd notation -- half tablature and half staved, with words and symbols scratched in the margin. She was writing some sort of song, and it was going through heavy revision.
I'm gonna huff and puff and ...
Roman's voice rang through the cavernous space and Rain's head picked up, her attention piqued and she cast a pointed (but not sharp, not wary) glance toward the entry way.
"Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin!" comes back, sing-song and easy. Her voice carries well, and it's warm and well-cadenced. There's a pause, and then she adds. "I'm making Cocoa! Whatchu want?"
[Gwen Sullivan] She chuckled along with his laughter. It was easy to share, he was the open sort of kid, easy to get along with and willing to welcome anyone as long as they played nice right back. She finished unzipping her jacket and started shrugging it off, but paused when he turned his head and lifted his hand near his mouth to whisper to her, telling her he could 'smell rain'.
She lifted her eyebrows, thought for a second about rain and snow and how what he smelled would be the frost settling, then realized Rain was a name, a girl. To that she responded by inhaling deeply, hunting for the scent that he had in his nose as well.
There wasn't much of a chance to decide if she caught it herself or not, because the Kin was singing back and the opportunity to stir a Kinfolk up was lost (Gwen didn't seem the type to join in that sort of fun anyways, despite her lazy smiles and inexperience she seemed to be shaping into a bit of a stern sort of woman).
So she was quiet instead, letting the banter fly uninterrupted between Garou and Kin, listening and watching and scenting both for food and this Rain-smell that Roman had mentioned.
[Roman Turner] "Come on."
He nudged Gwen and lead the way towards the little walled off kitchen area they had built.
"She's nice, you'll like her. You want Cocoa?"
He called out again as he shrugged out of his coat.
"I done brought Miss Gwen home. I think she might be staying a spell. I think she would appreciate some of that Cocoa."
It was about then that he poked his head around the opening in the wall to smile at Rain.
"Ya look pretty as a peach Miss Rain."
[Rain McKellar] "Aww, thank you, Mr. Roman," she says, her smile spreading across her features, brightening up those already warm brown eyes. Rain waves a bit to Gwen, and that smile reaches out to the Cub to welcome her in as well.
"Nice ta meetcha, Miss Gwen. Do you want cider, or cocoa, or dark chocolate cocoa?" she asks, dangling one of the latter between her fingers, swaying it side to side like a tempting little pendulum. The kinswoman is wearing a sweater and jeans, and there is a glint of gold at her throat, a small heart shaped charm that she's worn openly since receiving it.
The question is offered Roman's way, too, but not so much vocally as with a raised eyebrow and the way she pulled out another two mugs, bringing the complement up to three.
[Gwen Sullivan] With a nudge of elbow or hand at Gwen's back the Cub was ushered forward, back toward a kitchen that must have, one day, been host to luncheons and pot lucks and wedding receptions. Gwen started walking, not reluctant so much as, once more, apprehensive. Trust was a recent lesson taught to her by the resident Godi and it was something that left her a little unsure, but perhaps for the better. Less easy to trust unless she was confident in her capability to handle the situation on her own. If it came down to a Kinfolk and a Cliath, she didn't know if she could win the fight but she was certain she could survive it, one way or another.
Unnecessary thought process, but a part of growing into the shoes of a War Tribe Leader. She met Rain with a ghost of a polite smile and by lifting one hand with chipped dark purple polish on the nails in greeting.
Cocoa was offered in two varieties, the latter spoken in a way that made it sound like the obvious option. Gwen rubbed her hands together and nodded her head some in answer. "Cider sounds the best, please. Thank you." She finished rubbing her hands and instead cupped them over her mouth and nose both, exhaling harshly against her palms to bounce the warm air back to warm her nose. It and her cheeks both were still blazingly red from the elements outside.
[Rain McKellar] (Empathy: What going on with you, Miss? [PS: it's okay, I'm guarded too])
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Gwen Sullivan
[Roman Turner] "I'll take the cocoa, thanks. Miss Gwen, this here is Miss Rain McKellar and she's Kin to my Tribe. She's a part of this Stone Soup family we got here. Works hard to keep us tended, she does a good job of it."
He was quick to point out Rain's connection and her willingness to help them all while trying to make it clear he didn't want her hurt in any manner without crudely pointing it out in front of Rain.
"Now, we got plenty of space here for ya to get comfortable in and I'm sure we can come up with a spare blanket or two and we got plenty of body warmth to share. So here we are, one big ole family blending with a roof over our heads and walls to keep out the wind."
He waved one hand at the building that surrounded them.
"And we got someone that knows how to show hospitality on a cold night."
[Rain McKellar] Two ciders and one cocoa. Rain listens to the conversation between the other two, and she picks up on a few things. Roman is explaining their Stone Soup family; when Roman talks Family, Rain's learned that he means it. He's kind enough to not describe her as an errand girl (what was that Linus had said about doing their laundry?) or reduce the weight of her merit down to the children she might produce. He doesn't say how displeased he'd been when she'd come home with a gunshot graze to her shoulder. Like as not, they both still remembered that exchange rather clearly.
Rain also picks up on the subtleties of Gwen's particular form of quiet and adolescent separatism. She can sympathize with much of what she sees, and perhaps that's why she goes digging in her knapsack and pulls out a few cookies (sugar cookies with bright frosting, each wrapped in cellophane, pretty and likely still fresh enough) to set out with the cider and cocoa.
"Here," she says to the newcomer. "Take a load off. If Mr. Roman's got started with the Family this and hospitality that, this conversation may last awhile." She offers Gwen a conspiratorial smile, which is trending gently toward a smirk, but the look she tosses Roman's way is not at all playful or irreverent. There's a sad sort of quiet to it, a sort of suggestion or warning to tread lightly with Gwen.
Rain is protective of the newcomer, already, and he can read it easily in her, even if the kin is not giving up her reasons so readily.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen sniffed again, against the cold, and the sound echoed within her hands and stayed trapped there all the same. Resisting the urge to swipe at her nose with the back of her hand or wrist, she instead tucked her hands into the pockets of the hoodie she was wearing under that heavy navy blue jacket that she wore opened up. The hoodie was a faded lilac, but appeared to have been purchased that way rather than picked up at the Good Will. It looked soft, comfortable, and was cut so it was a little broad on her frame.
Roman introduced Rain a little more formally, and Gwen just nodded in acceptance of what he had to say. She took his words at face value and off the bat considered Rain to be good-hearted and good in every other way until she was given reason to believe otherwise. The unspoken bit about not wanting her hurt was accepted blandly-- she had zero intention of laying a finger on Rain for more than one reason, but she understood the need for disclaimers.
Amazing the politics behind a couple of teenagers taking refuge in a hollowed out church.
The cider is poured and offered up with some cookies, and Gwen shrugs off her coat completely, draping it over the back of a chair she set to claim before setting herself in it, doing precisely as suggested and 'taking a load off' if you will. She leaned over the table, cupped her cold-as-ice hands around the cider mug and held it under her face to breathe the smell and warm her cheeks.
"Thanks," she offered to the both of them, looking at Rain for a few moments and finding some curious sense of relief that she didn't get the impression of frost or incense or gold or rich tobacco from her. She shifted her gaze back over to Roman next, sipping her cider before speaking, but not taking the mug too far from her mouth to do so. "I've kind of been doing that from time to time, when Linus brings me in. ...Thanks again for letting me borrow those clothes the other night, too. I didn't have the sense or time to take mine off before changing and diving in after Linus."
[Roman Turner] "Not a problem. I been where you are and though I had a different support, you now have your own flavor. Linus needs to help ya learn how to make it so some of your clothes go with ya, though to be honest? Ain't always possible cause well, that would mean wearing the same clothes all the time and that gets a little ripe."
He too sat down, tugging off the knit cap Rain had gifted him with and instantly setting his chestnut hair in to the wild dance of standing up straight to wave with static. He might be sixteen, his face clean shaven and kissed with a red flush from the cold, but those blue gray eyes of his from time to time held the same look as someone many times his age. This was one of those times as he calmly turned to pick up a box of tissues to extend to Gwen.
"Better out than in as Shrek says."
[Rain McKellar] Whatever it was that Gwen wanted to find, or wanted so much not to see, in Rain seemed to pass well enough. Rain was older than them both, but by virtue of being an unChanging member of the family, she was not gifted as they were with age beyond her years. She seemed true to her early adulthood, though either of them would have to guess to rightly place her age. It wasn't something that came up often; Roman had only learned her last name recently.
She settles into her own chair, across the table from them both, and wraps her fingers around the plain mug. Rain wears no rings, but there are telling calluses on the pads of her fingers, there's a thick writer's bump on the third finger of her right hand.
"Are either of ya hungry?" she asks, which is a silly thing to ask True. They were always hungry. But she was trying to look after them without getting underfoot. "I can see if we've got more in the cooler than cookies. And I'll try to bring back more after work, since we've more faces around the table now."
There's an easy matter-of-fact way to how Rain plays this off. Like it's nothing to scrounge for another person; like it won't slow her down in the slightest. She's been bringing home day-old baked goods all winter, sandwiches here and there, groceries when she's had a particularly good night. There were a few boxes of Mac & Cheese, some hot dogs in the cooler -- things that lasted almost forever if you didn't tuck into them. Things that were hard, even for Rain, to screw up.
[Gwen Sullivan] The tissue box was accepted with a sniff that could be construed as grateful, and Gwen set it on the table to her left, took a tissue out, and turned in her chair to blow her nose, not delicately but without sounding like a foghorn at the same time. The tissue was folded over to the point of being as not-disgusting as possible and tucked away into the hip pocket of her jeans.
She'd let herself get comfortable, leaning back in the chair with her knees parted unabashedly, one foot on the floor while the right hitched up so the heel of her boot caught on the edge of the chair. Her right elbow rested on the upward-pointing right knee and she cradled the cider in both hands to keep them warm, taking sips occasionally. The cookies were looked at, but untouched for the moment. She'd work through the cider first, the sugar of frosting and the spice of cider didn't mesh well.
"I found myself pondering the subtle differences between being homeless and being a Garou," she said on the note of ripe clothes. "What I've figured out?" This is said with a small flick of her eyes toward Rain before they returned to Roman. "There isn't one, not without Kin to make sure there is for us."
She offered food, and Gwen shook her head politely. She didn't want to impose any more than she already was. The promise of soup had appealed to the thought of getting warm, not to an empty stomach. With the cider doing a good enough job of that food was less important.
[Roman Turner] "Now see, this is where things get foggy. Miss Rain here has done without, but me? I lived in a community where we all knew some of us would grow up and change and some of us were family. All were respected either way. No one looked down on because they didn't change. I never went without food, clothes, warmth or love. I guess I been lucky my whole life cause there's plenty what don't know what they are or who they are related to. I had others to prepare and guide me. Even when I came to Chicago, I came with family. Now I got a new branching to what I had. Just like a quilt, takes all sorts of pieces to make a whole."
He snagged one of the cookies and opened it up with a wink to Rain.
"This will hold me off. Maybe later I'll see if I can get us some pizza's and we can all pig out."
[Rain McKellar] "Sometimes there's a real thin line between between kin to Garou, and homeless as well," Rain says, gently but with a little more resonance than a theoretical conversation would have. She rolls her shoulders in a faint shrug, as if to push away any worry or concern that might gather at the edge of either True's thoughts.
"Can't say what I had before the Nation was better; can't say I wouldn't go back if I had the chance. Waking up one day to be part of all this? Ain't a gentle thing. Ain't easy, either, regardless of which side of the bloodline you're on. People here 've been good to me, though. Stick together. Act like Family, even if you're not blooded to them. If you're new, this seems to be a good place for it. People like Mr. Roman'll help. Nobody gets left out in the cold."
Rain lifts her mug to her lips, sips carefully at the hot cider, and then sets it down again. Her fingertips turn the mug and her eyes stay down at the level of its rim. She doesn't lift them, just now, to meet either True's eyes. Gwen will notice that Rain, for all she is friendly and welcoming, will not make eye contact directly.
[Gwen Sullivan] The depth of eye contact was something that switched on and off situationally for Gwen. When wearing the skin of a wolf it felt that much more important, as well as when she was with her Mentor, or when in a situation where Rank was being reinforced solidly. She found it curious that Rain avoided it with her and Roman both-- Roman because he was the friendliest thing she'd met just yet, and herself because she didn't consider herself to be anything close to a threat to anyone just yet. Moderately capable? Perhaps, but not threatening.
The Kin spoke of a time before the Nation, the Ragabash mentioned his family and how fortunate he was to have one that could support him in what he was going to be when he grew up. Gwen did what all Cubs should know how-- listened and absorbed. Her eyes moved from one face to the next as they spoke, and she accepted them when quiet passed for a moment with nothing more than a hum and by sipping the cider some more.
Her hair, still as plain and mousy brown as it has been since she dyed the pink out of it per order by her Mentor, was swept out of her face and tucked away under her hat and toward the back of her neck. She seemed content to lapse into quiet, keeping social wasn't something she seemed to be particularly adept at. Speaking a point was entirely different from friendly conversation, and Gwen was the kind of teen, by grace of having hibernating Rage among humans, to keep to herself.
[Roman Turner] "So, I know ya been hanging with Linus and I know that Fire Claws is your mentor, though I got to say that I find it really, really different that a Lupus born would connect to a homid born like this."
His head cocked slightly as he considered Gwen before blurting out.
"What I got to know is this. How come ya out wandering alone without Fire Claws like this? I gotta say, sometimes other Tribes are like completely different folk. Ya got your neighbors that make all sorts of noise so ya know what's happening on their land and ya have them folk that are like them from Arkansas, ya just never know who they aren't related to."
[Rain McKellar] Gwen wasn't hungry. Roman said the cookie would tide him over. All the same, Rain reached over to his side of the table and broke a piece off of that cookie for herself. They were big enough to share, and she and Roman had made a habit of getting into each other's space at least on occasion. And on occasion, they were able to share food without incident. (Though there was the Hamburger Incident of 2010...)
Gwen had gone quiet, and out of some sort of reflected understanding, Rain had gone quieter too. She sipped at her cider, chewed on the bit of cookie, and studied Roman more readily than Gwen. Which wasn't to say she was payin' any less attention to the newcomer, just that Rain was more comfortable showing that quizzical side with the Ragabash.
Roman asked a direct question, and it wasn't of Rain. Rain held her tongue to let Gwen answer.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen blinked at Roman in mild surprise, then narrowed her eyes just a touch at the Arkansas comment-- she wasn't sure if it was a crack at Fire Claws or not, when wearing his man-skin he spoke a difficult to interpret Appalachian mess after all. Rather than getting all grim-faced and defensive, though. Gwen just pressed the mug to her cheek to better warm it and leaned back more comfortably in her chair.
"I don't know. He doesn't try to keep me to the woods or the Caern with him. I go to try and smell him out but his trail is stale and cuts off after a while. I'm not worried, he'll be back when whatever he's taken care of is finished." The mug swept over her nose, pausing to warm that as well, and settled on the other cheek. Her cool-toned eyes settled evenly on Roman's face, half-inquisitive and half-searching on their own accord.
"How is that different? Do the wolf-born not typically approve of us?"
[Roman Turner] "No, it's not that. It's just that mostly they aren't so well blended with the world of man and tend to stick closer to our four legged cousins, so I was a bit curious how the two of you ended up in the position of teacher and student."
He also knew Kora had the say of things when it came down to it with her Tribe and for all he knew, this was a common thing with Fenrir.
"You should know that where I grew up, wolves aren't a common thing, we mostly have coyote. I don't think I ever heard tell of a lupus born in Kansas."
[Rain McKellar] Now Rain knows a few things about the Nation. Most of them she's learned the hard way. The hard way could mean any of many things, none of them particularly gentle, most of them ending with Rain taking her lumps either verbally or physically. She knows a few things about the Nation, but none of those things are about the wolf born.
Her gaze lifts away from the cup's rim. She glances between the two of them, from behind her lashes. The kinswoman sloooooowly sits back into her chair and brings one hand up to cradle the warmth of her mug in toward her sternum. She's watching them openly now, as if they might just be speaking in tongues. But Rain wouldn't openly suggest this as madness -- no, too much of what she's learned of the Nation would be madness to everyone she'd known before.
So some of them were born wolves. It made a certain sort of sense. She sipped at her cider and let that though percolate. Some of them were born monsters, and some were born men and some were born wolves. She's awfully quiet, awfully damned quiet for a songbird.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's answer to his curiosity as to how she and a wolf-born could mesh well enough to be student and teacher was a shrug, and to take a deeper drink from the cider now that it was cooler and easier to drink.
"I don't know. I was healing up that wound from the Carnival fiasco in the Caern and he came sniffing on over. We talked, I questioned when I'd... I don't know, understand? He tore me down with his teeth, and I guess saw something when he did so that he liked..." She's frowning as she gets further into the story-- it's impossible to tell it without feeling like she was going to end up defending a boyfriend that abused her nightly.
So she shakes her head. "It doesn't seem different 'cause I've known nothing better. I'm not gonna refuse someone's offer to teach, especially since he's the only Half-Moon I've met that'll look at me for longer than fifteen seconds. I feel kinda... I dunno, like I've been given an awesome opportunity to learn from him. He's Wolf, and that's what I need to learn to be more of to find a balance."
[Roman Turner] "Huh."
Not said as a question but exhaled as a sound that meant he took the answer and was mulling it around to come out as something that made sense to him because otherwise he was going to think this to death. For a moment he chewed on a chunk of cookie before speaking up again as he wiped his fingers on the thigh of his jeans.
"And watcha think about Linus?"
[Gwen Sullivan] It was something to say to the fact that Gwen's reaction to the question was to glance to her left, her right, then turn her head and twist at the waist enough that she could look behind her as well. No doubt she was checking to make sure the Godi in question wasn't lurking in the shadows and listening in on what was being spoken about.
Content with seeing nothing (and Gwen trusted her eyes and ears [soon her nose as well]), she turned back to Roman and smiled, the expression broader by degrees than it had been when she'd kidded about hanging his Stone Soup Story on the wall.
"He's the firm-handed stuff of heroes and does a fine job of pretending that he isn't."
[Rain McKellar] Rain pulls a breath in through her teeth. It doesn't whistle so much as express that she has opinions, things she's biting her tongue over just now. Whether that was about Half Moons or Mr. Linus, well, it was anyone's guess. Instead of speaking up, though, she reached up and scratched at the back of her neck, then rose from the table to clear up the pot she'd used to heat water and the little packets from making drinks.
It was easier to say nothing if she didn't offer them her face to read either. Rain couldn't lie for shit, she was on open book. The same thing that made her a good performer and (usually) solid Kinfolk also gave her inner thoughts away far too easily.
[Roman Turner] Like the sun coming out between clouds, his smile flashed and his laughter rang out. He didn't add to the response nor comment on it other than to say.
"Had ya going there for a moment. I saw the way ya looked around first."
He rose, stretching as he kept one eye on Rain. He knew noticed the little changes in body language.
"I think I best find Miss Gwen a pillow and blanket."
[Rain McKellar] "Never know where a Spirit-talker might pop out of. Lookin' around's good policy!" Rain says, defending Gwen (who likely needs no championing) as much as herself. She rolls her eyes a little at Roman, but there's fondness behind that show of exasperation. It curls the corners of her mouth just so; it's hard to miss.
Then, for Gwen, a little aside of whatever mischief Roman's up to: "They're a good crew, Last Watch. I hope you're as happy here as I've been. I know it's different for you than me, but I'm not hard to find if'n you want to bend someone's ear without 'em biting back." There, again, a little show of exasperation for the Ragabash's benefit.
[Gwen Sullivan] Roman's laugh and comment about getting her going was met with a low chuckle, precisely as undercurrented and faintly raspy (like sand over rock rather than gravel rolling together) as her other vocalizations. "Just had to be sure he wasn't around to hear me say so. I nearly got dunked for saying I trusted him."
That was the last lesson. You can't trust anything but yourself. To say she trusted him was foolish because they'd only just met-- they didn't share a Tribe or an Auspice or a family name or a pack or anything of a history at all. As he'd stated it, it was as good as a first date where he'd stuff her panties in his pocket and never talk to her again-- that's as far as her trust in him would take her. She'd scowled at the analogy but understood where he was coming from none the less.
Roman stretched, Rain looked uncomfortable for a moment, like she was holding back what she wanted to say, and while a comment about finding a pillow and a blanket was made (a not-so-subtle way of saying they ought to wind down for the night) and Rain pretended she wasn't feeling... silenced? out of place? Gwen wasn't sure what she saw, but it led her to wonder-- Gwen went right ahead and asked.
Sometimes Cubs just get out of line.
"What were you going to say?"
Let it be known, though, that there was no attack or accusation in the Philodox's tone-- she wasn't seeking to judge or to put the Kin on trial. This was sheer curiosity at hand.
[Roman Turner] He slipped out of the kitchen, leaving the girls to talk while he went to make a place for Gwen to sleep.
"I'll make lots of noise as I come back so you girls can quit talking about how good looking I am."
[Rain McKellar] Rain's mouth pursed for a moment, and her gaze flicked first to Roman and then back to Gwen. Like it or not, the girl was Trueborn, a half-moon, and asking her a direct question. Rain's spine straightened under imagined scrutiny and she breathed out a little something, unshared, perhaps a half-thought prayer.
"Just that I know a Half-Moon, Miss Gwen, who wouldn't look askance at you." The words were tighter than she meant them to be, uneasy. Rain's attention is again on Roman's reaction, because he'll know she's suggesting Eve. There's a tension between them on that point, something Rain's left lie for a while now without poking at.
"And also that, perhaps, proud warrior or not, Mr. Linus's language weren't the best for you to pick up. Maybe. 'S a bit impolite at times."
[Gwen Sullivan] Roman exited the kitchen, making the kind of awkward-but-confident teenage joke that sixteen year old boys are apt to make. Gwen flashed a bit of a grin after him, but very quickly shifted her attention back to Rain. Now that there was a topic flowing at hand she was proving that she wasn't withdrawn or afraid of socializing. She just didn't know how to be casual and listless about it, like the kind of polite chatter you keep up when meeting new people.
Rather, she nodded some when she said she knew a half-moon that wouldn't judge. Gwen, again, glanced after Roman, checked again to be sure no one was going to listen in and run to tattle on her, then licked her lower lip and spoke. "The only other one I've met outside of Fire-Claws is the Elder Truth's Meridian... or Honor's Compass, I don't know which one's which. She's... staunch. Seems fake, her eyes are almost glazed over when she glances at me. I feel like she holds herself higher than me in a way that doesn't have anything to do with Rank." Her mouth pressed into an uncertain, uncomfortable line for a second, but this was chased away by Rain's talking about Linus.
That coaxed another one of those somewhat rough chuckles from the girl's throat, and she set the cider mug on her knee, balancing it with her right hand so she could twist the Medusa piercing in her upper lip with her other hand idly as she answered that. "To be honest with you, when I've got sinew stuck between my teeth and am waiting out the next blood-puke on the bathroom floor, I find myself realizing that no matter how you talk-- vulgar like Linus or broken and difficult like Fire-Claws-- doesn't really matter when it comes down to it."
There's a pause, brief and fleeting, and an apology follows the explanation like a hasty amendment: "Sorry, that was a bit much."
[Rain McKellar] Gwen wasn't afraid of socialization and Rain didn't shirk away from topics that were uncomfortable or perhaps a bit more direct than is polite. Where she'd come from, any manner of words were more polite than fists and Gwen weren't throwing stones -- she was trying to get her bearings on things.
"I've not met your Elder," she says, honestly and clearly. "There's some that will hold breeding over you, and if you've none like me? Well, then you're the gutter-trash of the Nation. And there's some that will hold Rank up like a paragon of personal achievement. There's some that treat their Kin like nothing more than breeding stock and errand boys. There's a lot of looking down that happens, for no good reason at all, in this Nation. Same as any other.
"You gotta choose, Miss Gwen, which things will be important to you. Renown? Titles? Rank? Who you bed and how your children raise up? You're a judge, so you choose the things you judge the rest of us and yourself by. She can be your Elder, right, and all of those things, but you don't have to like her, or agree with how she treats people. Bein' Garou don't mean you lose your sense of self, see? Might be hard to see when you're new." Rain smiles a bit.
"I suppose that was a bit much from me, too," she says, spreading her hands a little, shifting to rest her hip against the counter and cross her arms low across her middle. "So we're square."
[Gwen Sullivan] "Nothing wrong with speaking your mind," Gwen says resolutely and kills off what's left of her cider. With that done she leans forward to take a cookie, one with bright green frosting and red-and-white Christmas sprinkles on the top, and unwraps it as she speaks further. She's not delicate or careful, not trying to keep the cookie on top of the cellophane to prevent sprinkles and crumbs from spilling on herself or the floor. She figured there were church mice that wouldn't mind the scraps anyways.
"I wouldn't know about breeding, I don't quite know the science behind it. I'd be willing to bet I have none, though, since I have no Tribe." The foot that wasn't braced up on the edge of her seat swung and scuffed the floor with no determinable rhythm, just the sort of idle motion that young people do when they've got too much energy or things on their mind.
"I have nothing against her, I'm sure she does her job well. I just don't like how I feel when she looks at me is all." She took a bite of the cookie, chewed and swallowed, then plucked some sprinkles off to nibble on those as she continued. She seemed a bit uncomfortable touching on the next topic. "None'a that so much, Rain. I'm not even supposed to be looking at Kin right now anyway, let alone thinking about kids. I mean, how do you have them if you can't raise 'em?"
A shake of her head, then the answer to the question: "What's most important is the Laws. Without 'em we're nothing but monsters, you see."
[Rain McKellar] "Even without the laws, you'd be more than monsters," Rain says, and this she says firmly. For a moment, she seems to forget she's speaking to a Philodox of the Nation and not just someone a couple years her junior. "That's one of the things we're here, as kin, to remind you of. You'll always be more than monsters, so long as you remember where you've come from and that you have people like me to tether you back."
Rain's features are mussed for a moment with a strong emotion, and it's a difficult one for her to wear. It is not comfortable, and it is not gentle. It aches.
"You say you don't have a Tribe?" she asks, and if Gwen confirms she continues. "Neither did I. Eve's pack found me, in the middle of a big mess, a nightmare all bloody and horrible. They found me and I didn't just forget what I'd seen. Unveiled, they called it. So they brought me back to River Fork, and no one could find my Tribe or family. I didn't have one, far as anyone knew, so Mr. Roman's took me in. Weren't his, in my mind, back then, though. Were Miss Jodie's. She was the only Gaian in all of River Fork, and the only one would take in kin with no breeding and no name. I hope it goes easier for you," she tells Gwen.
"But this no Tribe thing? It won't last long. You'll find family to make your own. And you'll sort the rest out right quick. But if you'd like to talk to Eve, I can try and find her. She's Rat's, and a half-moon. She's different, though I suppose if you're learning from Fire-Claws different won't bother you none."
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen didn't interrupt, even as the Kin told her that the Law was not most important-- something that would have your typical Philodox up in arms. That was the beauty of talking to a Cub, though, not just that they were impressionable and would take to heart what you told them, but that they were more eager to listen (well, most of them anyways, so long as they weren't the gung-ho cocky sort) and willing to give you the stand for as long as you wanted it.
She heard Rain through her story of being tribeless, of being found by a Jodie, and Eve (the Rat Philodox she'd mentioned earlier), and Roman in the end. Gwen responded with a bit of a shrug and by breaking off another chunk of cookie to pop into her mouth and chew.
"If Fenris will accept me...," spoken casually about finding a Tribe. It wasn't so easy as just saying that you wanted to be a part of a tribe, not all were as accepting as the Children of Gaia or the Bone Gnawers. She couldn't call herself Fenrir until Fenris himself gave her the nod, and that was what she worked for. Because Fire-Claws was Fenris, because Linus and Kora were, because rigid strength and application of the law seemed the only right way in her mind-- without stern enforcement Laws were nothing, you had to make people pay mind to them, otherwise they'd just be suggestions. And as she'd said before, without the structure of Law she thought they would be nothing more than beasts.
Rain digressed, however, and for that Gwen shook her head some, sadly. "Perhaps one day if I have a Kin to bring me back that'll be the case. If we all did. Kora's lucky with hers, Roman's good on his own accord. Those like Fire-Claws and Linus, myself and so many others that haven't got someone like you? We need our Laws and our Consequences. Otherwise, what stops us?" This is said with a heavy stare, something more than what should be seen on a seventeen year old girl's face, then another faint shake of the head and that granite gaze eases rather than softens.
"I wouldn't trade Fire-Claws for another, or Fenris for another. I'm sure your Eve is a fine person in her own regard, but I don't think we can just trade Mentors like that." There's a pause to finish the cookie, then a quieter conclusion as she dusted crumbs from the corners of her mouth with the pad of her thumb. "He'll come back."
[Rain McKellar] "Mmmm," Rain rolls the sound against her teeth for a long moment. "No," she says, shaking her head a little. "I don't think that's how it works either, and it weren't what I was suggesting. But if you're happy where you are, and you seem to be, then I won't mess with it none.
"I wouldn't dream to promise Miss Eve's teachin', and she wouldn't stand in for Fire-Claws without talking to him anyways. Just sometimes it's nice to have another point of view, that's all I was thinking. Some times a thing seems black and white, clear cut, like crystal, until you talk around all sides of it. Turns out to be more delicate, a finer-wrought thing 'n you thought."
Rain shrugs, hugs her arms against her middle a bit more.
"For what it's worth, the Gaians may be my family but that doesn't mean I'll turn someone away who's wanting company or comfort. You find me if you need to, through Miss Kora or Mister Linus or Mister Roman, even Eve. Til you've kin of your own, of course."
There's something heavier there than ought be in a young woman's visage and voice, too. They're paired, if faintly, in that way.
[Gwen Sullivan] Rain knew life, not just because of the years she had on Gwen but because of what she's seen, who she's met, the conversations she's had and things that she's learned. She's looked at things from all sides, views the world as intricately woven and as many sided as there are legs on a millipede. That quality could be appreciated, especially when paired with her open and warm disposition, her offer to be a friend, company and comfort, a Kin for her when there were none others available to her-- no family of which to speak.
To this Gwen answered with a smile, small but warmer than most she'd display, appreciative and genuine about it. Rain was an easy person to like, there was no wonder why Roman found her so easy.
"I appreciate that. There's something to you guys and your hospitality just like there's something to the hard lessons Linus and Fire-Claws give. Neither greater than the other, I suppose."
She viewed Rain's body language, how the arms wrapped about her midsection and how she leaned on the counter, and after a second or two she scootched her chair back out and stood up, taking the coat off the back of it before sliding it under the table once more. "Thanks for everything tonight, the cider, the cookie, the ear... All of that. I figure I'll go find Roman and figure out where I'm sleeping though."
[Rain McKellar] Gwen, for her part, was easy to like. At least from Rain's perspective. It was hard not to have sympathy for the feeling of being thrust into something new and intermittently exciting and horrifying. That Gwen maintained any semblance of openness at all was to her credit, and Rain liked to imagine that the younger girl would please any totem she chose to cleave to, that she would have no obstacles in finding a new Family and home. Rain was an optimist. Where the Nation gave her reason to be otherwise, she did her damnedest to find a silver lining.
"Sure thing. Go get settled in and make yourself comfortable. And don't mind Roman none if he flushes the toilet while you're taking a shower -- apparently that sort of hazing means you're welcome, and you're family for now." Her grin widens a bit as she reaches across the table for Gwen's abandoned mug and swipes up the plastic wrap and cookie crumbs at the same time. By the time either True wander by again, the kitchen are (such as it is) will be back to being neat and tidy.
"Rest well, Miss Gwen," she tells the Fenrir-to-be.
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