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Entry tags:
- bone gnawer,
- brownstone,
- cliath,
- cooking,
- dagny,
- get of fenris,
- homid,
- lupus,
- starcaller,
- stars,
- talk,
- theurge
Lawl, lupus are funny.
W h o: Starcaller, Dagny
W h e n: Afternoon - Evening, 8.3.08
W h e r e: Brownstone - Dagny's place.
W h a t: On his tour of the city, Stars discovers Brownstone and remembers the offer to come visit that Voice-of-Blades gave him out on the bawn. So, he comes to visit!
H'oh, boy. XD
Outside the tall building, the day is pleasant and light of wind. Below sixty-degrees, a few people are seen wearing light jackets as they pass on the sidewalk. Within the lobby of the Brownstone building, however, the temperature is another ten degrees cooler. And with good reason. There is a stream of heat coming from an open door. The little plate on the wall next to the door reads 'superintendent', and is covered in scratches of wear and tear. Wear and tear that just happen to crudely shape a glyph for the Get of Fenris. The heat comes with sizzling sounds and smells of cooking. A small table outside this room is set up against the wall. Crock pot, bowls, spoons and forks, and a tray of crackers and sliced cheeses of different kinds. With the door open, it's easy to catch glimpses of the tank-topped and blue-jeaned woman within, working busily in her kitchen. Skillet in one hand, bottle of beer in the other, cigarette dangling from her lips off to the side. Low string-and-piano music is playing within, as well.
Oh, hey, it's that time of day when most people are thinking about lunch. He'd quite forgotten. Busybusybusy. But then he found himself in front of a certain building without consciously thinking about going there. Hey, this is the place that... oh my, that smells heavenly. The door is checked, opened, and allowed to fall closed as the Starcaller toddles within, blinking a little at the change in temperature. Huh. "Hello?"
The ground floor is mostly deserted, the arranged chairs in the common area devoid of butts to depress them, and the crockpot mostly untouched, save for one or two bowls gently set in a plastic bin beneath the table, dirtied spoons with them. The aroma of the crock pot is mostly meaty - not beef, but deer, and seasoned with several strong ingredients to give it an almost barbecue-like quality. The offered greeting catches the attention of the woman in the kitchen and she walks forward, beer in one hand, cigarette still in her teeth. Her arms, neck, and cheek are peppered with scars, most of them looking deliberate. Runes, a few glyphs. She blinks at the fellow's get up and then smiles, lopsided. "I'm fair sure you ain' here to see about an apartment. Grab a bowl." She indicates, hooking a thumb over toward the table.
Stars blinks a few times at the taller girl, then just grins and lets the duffel slip from his shoulder, settling it to the floor against one wall, "Come try find friend, she say live here." Okay, put this one in the 'probably mildly insane' category of homeless. Broken syntax is only part of it, the young man's words are oddly inflected, their pacing slightly off as well. Or maybe English just isn't his first language. But he chirps a cheerful "Thankful" as he moves over towards the indicated stewpot, expression clearly stating his approval of the smells coming from it.
He gets no strange look from her. She does study him a bit, though - eyes tracking him in an unblinking, prey-beast fashion. They're just as gray-blue and light as they always are, no matter what shape she's in. The syntax is smirked at a little bit, and Dag's posture relaxes. "Your friend's got a name, yea? You tell it to ol' Dag here an' I'll just see if she ain' home. You want anything to drink?"
He hesitates over the stew, taking a moment to dish himself out a serving and thus buy a little time to think. Hm. "Fenrir." There, that should be safe enough. The stew in his bowl is blown on a bit to cool it, and the Starcaller looks like he might have actually forgotten to grab a spoon for a moment, but remembers before digging in with fingers and face. Oh, right, that thing. "Meet her out near park," and he tilts his head eastward, towards the Bawn, before smiling, "Drink be nice, thank."
The name he gives actually makes her laugh a little and she nods. "Well, you're in the right building." Dag says, tapping the name plate. The hesitance with the spoon actually puts a bigger, understanding smirk on the Get's face and she steps out and gestures into her apartment. "Sure. Why not come on in and slip into something a bit more.. comfortable, eh?"
Stars perks up visibly, somehow managing to give the impression of pricked ears even in Homid, and grins before pattering along inside, happily shovelling in a mouthful or three along the way. For all he had to actively remember to grab the spoon, he seems proficient enough with it, and isn't even a messy eater. "This one forget ask Blade Voice other name, appologize," and neither did he think to ask how she looked without fur, so the fact that he's currently talking to the girl in question goes blithely over his head. Stupid human nose, good for absolutely nothing.
"It's Dagny, Starcaller-yuf. And no worries, I sometimes forget it, too." The door closes behind her and a lock is engaged. "If you want to go wolf in here, you can. Just not in the lobby. Basement is wolf-friendly, too, but the rest of the building y'gotta put your people-face on. How do you want your drink? Glass or bowl, and what kind would you like? Got beer, tea, water, milk, mead.." She moves back into the kitchen and snags a slice of cheese, laying the cigarette on a small ashtray and forgetting it for the time being. There are many strange smells in her little apartment, among them a few unfriendly ones. Like silver.
Oh, well, this is convenient! Dagny gets a beaming grin, then the bowl is set to the floor and the Starcaller's in his birthform between one blink and the other, cheerfully wolfing down (har har) the gifted meal, tail wagging happily. This one would appreciate some water, Voice of Blades. Your hospitality is marvelous. After a moment stuffing his face, the wolf sits up, licks his chops, and looks around with interest, ears swivelling around both to catch the Fenrir's words and anything else. Oooo... This one will remember the limitations. Was unsure of how to conduct himself upon arrival, is glad things were as simple as they were.
A heavy, earthen bowl is drawn out of a cupboard and the tap runs for a few moments, fingers testing the temperature before deeming it satisfactory. She brings the filled bowl over and sets it down next to the stew bowl and grins. The water has a very light lemon-scent to it, seems she squeezed one over the bowl before filling it. "It's not often I get to play host, so I suppose I should be thanking you. And don't even worry about it, it's more my fault for not explaining beforehand. Lucky my place is on the ground floor, eh?" She waggles brows and then plunks down on the couch across from him, still nibbling cheese. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Caller of Stars?"
Starcaller flips his ears in thanks as the water is brought back, taking a moment to slake his thirst before responding. A flip of the tail and a cant of one ear indicate that he was simply in the area, recognized the building he had been told about, and was debating investigating further when the delightful smells caught his attention. Could not resist. So reminded, he goes back to the stew briefly, happy that he found such a pleasent meal. Otherwise is fairly certain he would have forgotten to eat this mid-day. Busy, busy time lately.
"Seems to be a common occurrence among us. That's why I usually make it easy for folk that live 'round here, s'pecially. There's usually a lot more downstairs in the basement, too, since that's mostly where the tribe is. You're always welcome here, long as y'follow rules an' y'know. Play nice." She says in offering, grabbing her beer from the counter and taking a long drink from it before side-tabling it. "You in the city a lot, then?"
Starcaller always plays nice! Doesn't even nip hard. The last of the stew is polished off, and the wolf settles back on his haunches to lick his chops. His expression sobers a little at Dagny's question, but not out of any bad mood so much as just moving on to slightly more important things. This one is watching the city for Ears-rhya while she is away for her Challenge, at the request of Gauntlet-Runner-rhya. As such, this one has been spending a lot of time rushing about, making sure of where things are and what is going on. He doesn't think the frantic pace will last too long. Hopes not.
At mention of Kaz, the Get's grin flourishes fond, and she looks from his face down to the bottle. "Doin' good work, then. Miss that gnawer somethin' fierce. She had a hand in my Galliard training, y'know." She leans sideways, setting her ribs on the arm of a chair and thinking. "Yea, you an' me /hope/ it doesn't last long. Hell knows what's gonna happen next in this place. I come here once a day and then stick to the Bawn. Hate the city." She takes a swig and then mmfs in a remembering sort of way. "Viktor from the Shadow Lords is looking for you, by the way."
Starcaller quirks an ear in interest, noting the news about Viktor with thanks, but tables it as he pads over to lay his chin lightly on the girl's knee, looking up at her. This one can understand those that prefer the woods. Finds the city fascinating, himself. Has not been back to the Bawn, or even as far as the House on the edge, since he spoke with the Voice of Blades out there. Too much to be done, and this one does not mind sleeping in the city, though it can be noisy. Oh! and ears lift a little as he remembers to add that he's trying to stay near, or at least drop by the den of Fat-Ripper frequently, in case people need to find him. Does the Voice of Blades know it?
"Well, you're welcome to den here if you're on this side too late. Basement is open and there are some storage closets that have some blankets and stuff lain out. Anyone asks, Dag said you could stay an' if they hae a problem, they talk to me." The chin on her knee is looked at, considered, and one of her hands lingers out to brush thumb over his eye on the brow bone - if he doesn't pull away, anyway. "I know Olga and Squeaks. Never been to their place, though. I'm either here, bawn, or infrequently, the tenement building. If I ain' in those three places, though, I prolly don't want to be found." She chuckles, and even pats the open part of the sofa next to her in offering.
Starcaller lets his eyes slide closed, apparently quite pleased with the hand on his head, but then blinks at the invitation before opening his jaw a bit in a grin and clambering up, resettling himself with his head in Dagny's lap if she doesn't object. This one wouldn't dream to intrude on the Voice of Blades' privacy, but thanks her for the offering of her den. Likewise, if she finds herself needing his assistance, she has only to ask. And she has his vouch if she ever needs to go to Tenacity's territory, to the east of the river. His pack is a gentle one when it comes to borders, but politeness is always appreciated.
"I appreciate that. I would like to meet the rest of your pack, at some point. There are names I do not know and would like to put faces with them." She doesn't object, and once he settles, her hand resumes its place and its ministrations. It would very much be a redneck and man's-best-friend scenario, if they weren't Garou. She taps the end of the bottle against her cheek in an unconscious motion-for-motion's sake a few times and takes a deep breath. "Gotta say, though. Back there." She indicates the dark green room down the hall. "Off limits. There's stuff in there that's important to me, and you may not like some of the decorations, so."
Starcaller's tail thumps lightly against the couch as the petting resumes, ears relaxing into a lazy slump an his eyes nearly closing again. Tenacity is a good pack, under the East Wind. We try to make things better more than anything else. Protect and support those within our territory, help each other when events drag heavily. We had even brought the Firestarter mostly back from her near-hatred of her fellow garou, though that endeavor was sadly cut short. An ear swivels in the direction of Dagny's gesture, and the wolf repeats that he will never intentionally violate another's privacy. Though has seen so many things in his years that he doubts anything as simple as decorations would unnerve him. After all, it's not like the Voice of Blades has stepped down the Black Spiral.
"She was a loss." Dag says simply, taking another slow, deep breath. "Hell of a fighter, both against the Wyrm and other garou." She laughs a little, and leans her head back against the cushion, hand still gently and tenderly sharing companionable affection with the Gnawer. "Nah, I know you won't. S'not that. Just sayin', I have what made this and it's a bit off-putting for some folk." She indicates the scars on her face. "Fuckin' guy had a silver knife." She eyes him at mention of the Abominable Spiral. "No. I haven't. That would be total madness. Besides, Gaia frowns on shit like that." Fingers move between his ears and scritch, arm otherwise gently lain over the Gnawer. "How many places do Garou go when they die?" She asks of him.
Starcaller opens his eyes to look up at the indicated scars, ears lifting a little more to indicate that he's paying attention than anything. Then he quips that this one is not bothered by moon-metal, provided it isn't being used on his person. Does not carry it himself, as he doesn't care for the feel of it. But is not going to dive under the couch if some happens by. A lazy yawn and a bit of a stretch, then the Gnawer resettles himself, ears splaying to the sides as he considers the Fenrir's question. Primarily, the garou are reborn, brought back to this material world to continue the battle against the Wyrm. Some stay in the spirit, to battle there. As far as this one knows, there is no true life-after for the garou, merely the next in the line of existances.
This earns a grunt of acknowledgement, and she nods. "Just and endless cycle, then." She says aloud, yawning, and slumping further into the couch cushions. Nrf. Were she lupine, her ears would be splayed out somewhat unhappily. However, as she's not, she merely gives the ceiling a blank, distracted stare. Until her oven beeps. "Cookies are done." She says softly, lifting his chin and replacing her lap with a pillow for him. Squishy. Into the kitchen she goes, and drags an oven mit over, opening the oven and releasing the smell of chocolate chip and walnut cookies out into the air. Onto a cooling rack the whole sheet goes and she removes the mit to poke at one of them. "Be about ten-fifteen minutes 'til they're cool enough."
Starcaller wouldn't say /endless/. All things end, even the Great Battle. But certainly a long and repeating cycle, yes. There's a soft grunt as his chin is shifted, not quite a grumble and mostly just in objection that he was comfortable oh hey a pillow. The wolf shifts around a bit on the couch as Dagny moves off, stretching out and turning his head to watch her deal with the oven, commenting idly that he does not think he's ever met a Fenrir that enjoyed cooking as much as the Voice of Blades seems to. Not that he's objecting, by any means, and his tail thumps against the couch again in good humor.
"Until Fimbulwinter, anyway." She remarks, on the 'cycle' line. At the cooking remark, she looks a little surprised, but smiles along with the raising of both brows. "It is an art, you know. Dealing in precision. I'm already good at being blunt and bull-dozing things. But that doesn't always get the job done. Cooking helps hone skills in being precise. You should see the birthday cakes I make. Besides. It reminds me of home. Most of these are my grandmother's recipes, so they make me feel a little closer to her and granda. And it's not like anyone else is going to make sure the Get get fed proper."
Starcaller sees the Voice of Blades' point. Interesting. This one has absolutely no skill with cooking, and is not skilled enough with the man-tongue to truly learn, or at least not easily. But is perfectly happy with his talents lying in other areas. Another yawn, then the Gnawer actually rolls over on his back, paws in the air, snuggling down in to the couch a bit further. It is good that someone with aptitude has decided to be the den-mother of your Tribe. Such things are important, and all too often neglected, sadly.
"Again, you can kind of attribute that to Kaz-rhya. By being a mother to nearly everyone that would let her, she kinda showed me that it was okay, y'know? Being strong and good in war does not mean you cannot tend to the ones around you with kindness. I kind of enjoy it." She spatulas the cookies from the sheet and onto the rack directly, holding the pan with a bare hand. She looks over at the couch and grins. "If you want to nap there, you can."
Starcaller is not sleepy, though he appreciates the offer. Was merely getting comfortable. This stretches out his back nicely, and is so hard to do comfortably on anything except a couch. A bit of a wiggle of paws at the ceiling also indicates that it helps him think, sometimes. Gets the blood moving in new directions. He himself is no great warrior in the slightest. Is a bit of a coward, actually, tending to run from battle instead of towards it. Finds that he is much more skilled in battles within his fellow garou. The easing of grief, the tempering of fury, those are his battlefields. And, if the need arises, he is more than able to give an uppity spirit a good cuffing, most times. And probably convince it not to eat him if he is not.
"All of us have our specialties, and just because yours may not be the same as mine does not make it any less important to Gaia and the preservation of our lives and hers. In fact, yours is probably the more important of the two of ours. I can hurt, I can maim, I can kill, but I am no mind-healer. I can't ease the pull of fury in others. Hell, have a hard enough time doin' that for myself, let alone." She laughs, and pulls a cookie from the cooling rack and dangles it above. "Want one?" She asks, before also saying, "I don't think its cowardly to want to live to do what you do best."
Starcaller would be delighted, yes, thank you. The wolf rolls back over onto his front, head lifted with ears perked and jaw hanging in an easy smile. This one does what he can, though it all too often isn't enough. Sometimes is even cast away, sadly. Would that it were as simple and straightforward as the healing Touch. Within the mind is a harder wound to heal than upon the body. A curious sniff is aimed towards the Fenrir, wondering if there's anything she wishes to talk about? This one may not have anything to help, but can always listen.
Dropping the cookie into the waiting mouth, Dag smiles widely before backing into the kitchen again, watching him to interpret gestures. "Yea, no shit. Some wounds are self-inflicted and those are sometimes worse than the ones that happen to us. Friend of mine is goin' through that right now, and I'm frickin' awful at fixing that kinda shit. Like I said. Making wounds is more my thing." She grabs a cookie and inspects the edges of it. Golden brown all through. Good. Chomp.
Starcaller munches happily, lifting his muzzle to avoid dropping more crumbs than necessary on the couch. Mm, that's good. This one reminds the Voice of Blades as to what she just said. Everyone has their own talents. Who is this friend, and what happened, can she tell this one? Now the Fenrir is fixed with a highly focussed regard, not a dominance stare but possibly still a little unnerving. The lupe's ears are pricked forward, his eyes having darkened from their usual hazel to something closer to a dark bronze, and /everything/ of his body language speaks of intense attention to details.
There's something about the stare that has her staring right back. The Gnawer may be aware of the switching tensions in her posture. Speak or don't speak? That's the war. When it seems like the battle will go on endlessly, a deep breath divides the two warring sides and she straightens her posture, pale eyes easing but not breaking contact. "He lost an alpha, but more than that, he lost a brother and a very dear friend. He feels responsible. Saw it happen, blames himself for not being able to run faster, or jump farther to stop it from happening. To get in between a Dancer and his friend before said friend was killed."
Starcaller sighs, lowering his muzzle as the situation is revealed, resting his chin on the couch as his ears track around almost randomly. That is a common wound, and also one of the hardest to heal. Forever the man mind comes up with things that could have been, or should have been, but were not. This one thinks it is a condition endemic to the humans. All that he has spoken to show symptoms. Who is this friend? Again, the eyes lift, though they're back to their normal hazel and not nearly as intent. If this one encounters them, perhaps will be able to help.
"I am conflicted. If I tell you, and you see him and speak with him, he may react.. poorly. He's a very strong-willed and bull-headed New Moon. Thinks more like an ahroun on several things. I suppose that's partly my doing, and partly Cael's." She looks down at the cookies and snags another one, popping it into her mouth before bringing another over and holding it in front of Stars' mouth. "If he gets mad at you, if you talk to him, tell him Dag asked you to. His name is Riley, Stares-Down-Death-to-Evacuate-the-Fallen, or Evac since the other one's a fuckin' mouthful."
Starcaller shifts to the side to free up sitting-room on the couch as Dagny comes back over, reaching out to delicately take the offered cookie from her fingers and scarf it down. A moment of quiet thought, licking crumbs from his whiskers before turning back to regard the Fenrir. This one will see what he can do, if he gets the time, and if he finds the Evacuator. Only then does the Gnawer whine softly, tilting his head to ask if the Voice of Blades is worried only for this no-moon? He may not understand the two-footed folk as well as he could, but she seems... sad.
She moves around to the front of the couch and sits, watching the cookie disappear with a light grin on her face. Her eyes seem tired, though. The conversation has gone places where her energy and light spirit have abandoned her and she leans forward to cradle her chin in her palm, elbow digging into her knee. "Not just him. Golden-Tongue, as well. He and North-Star were very close friends, helped eachother out often when boy-talk was needed, y'know?" She smiles a little. Leaning back, the Get stares out ahead of her, not looking at the Theurge directly, and using her tongue to pick things out of her teeth. "I worry about both of them. And Ishmael, too. He's a tough kid though with a mind like stone, so.. I know he can handle his grief well enough, and unless he seeks me out, I'm not going to throw a monkey wrench in the works. We were all together since we were cubs. Very soon after we arrived in this life, that is. There were six of us. Then Matt died. Then Cael died. Now it's just four."
Starcaller puffs a soft breath through his lips, letting Dagny get settled as she will before lightly placing his head in her lap once more, easily brushed away if she feels like it, his eyes having gone dark again, though they lack the almost feverish focus of before. Actually, the Gnawer is displaying a lot of deference in his posture and body language at the moment, a yielding of dominance and lack of threat. This one worries that such a series of occurances may bring the fear that the rest will follow into death, and that fear shall become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Has seen it happen before, when grief turns into something much more insidious, dragging the aflicted into suicide through lack of care or forethought.
The opposite is true, actually. When he resettles, her hand instantly, gently, finds space on the back of his neck and resumes contact, gently kneading into the fur. As if to say that the closeness is most welcome. "Knowing him as well as I do, I.. think you have it down exactly. I haven't told him we won't die. I haven't told him everything is going to be all right. Because I can't. Because it won't. I will die. Sean will die. Izzy will die. All of us will, it isn't a matter of if, but when, and I.. it's hard, because I don't want to get him back on solid ground, where he can be happy, only to have it undone by another death and what he feels and thinks now come back twice as ugly, and his trust takes a beating."
Starcaller mumbles happily at the feel of fingers in his ruff, wiggling a little to get more comfortable before commenting, thinking that the denial of sure things is another of those aspects of the man mind he has difficulty understanding. It may be comforting to think that something will not happen, but when it /does/ happen with that thought in place, the blow is twice as fierce. Death is a part of being Garou. Even the small and weak may be called to fight the Wyrm with no more weaponry than we were born with. It is... a hard truth. But truth, nonetheless.
"But how do you tell that to someone when they still hurt from loss to that kind of world? He still has claws and teeth sunk into the human side of things. Glass Walker and new moon, he feels the pull, but.. Why is it easier for me to accept that, and not him?" She puzzles aloud, and looks down at him. "I can't lie to him. But in the meantime, I do not have the words otherwise to help him feel better. Sean was easier to console and comfort and that.. well, that surprised me."
The wolf licks his lips a few times, thinking, eyes sliding mostly shut in a half-lazy, half-distracted air. This one has found that the best way to deal with survivor's guilt is to aim the survivor's attention at different aspects of the death. That it was doing Gaia's work. That it saved lives. That wasting energy pining over the fallen comrade will make that comrade's sacrifice as nothing, or worse, handicap everything they hoped to protect with their death. The crippled warrior removes two fighters from the battle, himself and the one that must carry him.
Another grunt, this one stating that she had not thought of one of the things he describes. "To do that.. That will hurt him. I tried to explain that Cael's was a /good/ death. And it was! He fell killing Black Spirals, that he was doing what he was born to do.. He won't buy into that. Even Cliath, he still wishes for his humanity sometimes. But.. the other. Isn't that just making him feel guilty for feeling guilty when he should be happy, but isn't? Is that even.. /okay/?"
Starcaller doesn't know if that tack will work, mind. But sometimes a boil must be lanced to heal. Sometimes there must be pain for life to continue, or even to start. A soft sigh, then the Theurge's ears swing back. This one has seem others that dislike, fear, even hate the fact that they are now garou. The Firestarter was one of them, though she learned to love her wolf eventually. This one utterly fails to understand it, but comes from a life here he would be old and decrepit by now, if not already dead, if he had not awakened to Luna's favor. He can barely even remember the times before his First Change, before his mind flowered.
"He is prepared to fight and live and love, but it is hard for him to understand that death is also a part of this. He misses the human parts. Where life was easier, there was no wyrm to steal his friends.. I understand it. I also.. wish that he felt the same as I do about all this. I'm in the same boat as you. Were it not for Luna's push in this direction, I wouldn't be here either. I love this life of mine." Dag says, looking at him and scritching the back of one of his ears. "I sometimes wish I were wolf-born instead."
Starcaller snorts a gentle laugh, thinking that there were times he wishes he were human-born, if only so he could understand them better. There are so many /more/ garou born of the humans, after all, that this one sometimes finds himself at a disadvantage. Still, he has lasted four years in this new world, and intends to last many more. There is so much yet to learn. A paw is lifted to lightly pat against the side of Dagny's thigh, happy that she is able to take joy in the life she has, instead of pining for the one that she does not. It is perhaps too soon to hope that the Evacuator can heal his pain. The wound is fresh, after all. Give him some time, be as gentle as circumstances allow, but do not allow him to slide into despair. That way lies worse than death. That way lies the Wyrm's clutches.
"Shit, if you think being born human means you understand them better, you been listening to the wrong humans. It's confusing even for those of us that've /been/ human since birth. And besides, you have a better grasp on us than I do, half the time." She says, laughing gently. The scritching stops and she leaves her arm draped gently over the Gnawer's shoulders, listening to his advice and nodding with it. "He has.. a very good, and strong heart. But I worry about that - his grief. Where it may take him if he indulges it too much. I do not want to think of having to bring him down if the Wyrm takes him, somehow." She shakes her head, as if to rid herself of the thought. Then she looks at him with a smile - eyes a little brighter and grin a little more solid. "You are very wise."
Starcaller takes a moment to wonder /why/ everyone keeps saying that? He doesn't /feel/ wise. Just knows how to look at things and say what he thinks. Harumpf. But then he gets back to the subject at hand, thinking that perhaps the best thing to do for the no-moon at the moment will be to keep the grief from swallowing him. Give him other things to occupy his attention. Have him /do/ things other than sit and weep. Then the wolf sits up a bit, lifting his nose to nuzzle at the Get's cheek, thinking that it is good that the one that Evacuates the Fallen has friends that are willing to carry /him/ when the pain becomes too great.
"Wisdom.. is not something you feel. It's something you convey. If you felt wise, I'd call you a fool." She says gently, fingers smoothing his cheeks. "In this case, consider wisdom to be the ability to step out of a situation and to see it at all possible angles. How to make it turn out in a way that benefits all. Sometimes our tempers and emotions make us stupid. Wisdom is not letting them do that to us, and instead, tells them to quiet so that true balance can be maintained." At the nose-touch, she laughs gently and turns her head to nuzzle his cheek in return. A wolfish gesture in homid form, silly, but well-meant. "If I did anything less, I could not call myself his friend."
Starcaller huffs, still unconvinced, but not willing to turn the point into an argument, as silly as it is. Instead, he goes back to laying with his head in Dagny's lap for a moment before tipping his chin up off her thigh to look up at her, struck by a thought and suddenly contrite. This one does not mean to take up the Voice of Blades' time, merely found himself curious, then thinking and she was kind enough to answer and listen.
Blinking at the suddenness of his thought, she looks taken aback briefly, but quickly recovers with a laugh. "Ah, no no! I had nothing planned for today. I welcome the chance for days like this. Aside from cooking and doing some baking, my day was open. I am lucky that you stopped by." She assures him, smoothing his ears. "No promises that I won't fall asleep, though. I've been up before the sun."
Starcaller relaxes instantly at the reassurance, nuzzling into the touch to his head before settling again. This one wanted to be sure. Knows he has a tendency to start off after any little thing that catches his attention and forget other people's wishes, sometimes. Though he is sorry that he cannot properly converse with the Voice of Blades in her own tongue. The man-language confuses this one no end. At least the Mother's Tongue follows some semblance of logic.
"There's no need to apologize. We each have different means of expression that are most comfortable for us. For me, I speak through good food." She grins, one eye closing while the other keeps tabs on him and his motion. "Or, through visual example, but that's a bit more taxing. And rest assured, if I do not have time, I will let you know before you have the chance to feel bad about taking some of it. Rare as that may occur." She yawns a bit, crooked teeth curling in a circle before her mouth closes. "Besides. You 'speak' more clearly that most I know."
Starcaller flicks his ears, back to front, thinking it has to do with the way he thinks. Was born to the wolf-language, yes, but has learned so very much of the human ways and the world beyond the woods that he /had/ to adapt the language to deal with new concepts. It led to a certain depth of meaning. He finds that he has to try and keep his communications simple sometimes, he relates somewhat sheepishly, or lose the man-born in subtleties. Then the yawn catches him, and his jaws open to show his own teeth, tongue curling before he voices a grumply wheezy snort at the Get. Stop that, you'll put him to sleep.
Dagny watches closely and grins, hand brought forward to scritch under the yawning wolf's chin. "Either that, or we just ignore the more subtler arts of communication. I could probably do to learn from you, even. The two languages are a separate, but equally complex and beautiful art. Imagine, if you will. What if man, or wolf, or garou, never learned to communicate through syllables or actions. How hard it would be to make sense of.. well, anything. In essence, talk is art." Her head plops back on the couch cushion and she looks at him with a lopsided grin.
Starcaller thinks that the Voice of Blades does more interesting things with the man-tongue than he does with his communications. He merely tries to express himself clearly. She makes things sound pretty. Then, however, the wolf apparently decides that he requires a bellyscratch, as he rolls over and waves all four paws briefly in the air before looking up at the Fenrir with big, moist eyes and a soft whine. He has an itch...
One brow raises on the Fenrir's face, and she snort-giggles somewhat inappropriately. "Well, I've had a few years to practice." She says, smirking, and obliges by using both hands to scratch all over the wolf's stomach. "Do you ever go swimming?" She asks, peering at him upside down, leaned over him.
Starcaller witholds an answer to Dagny's question for now, instead wriggling happily and somehow managing to not fall off the couch. After a bit he calms and stretches, toes spreading as he sticks his paws waaaaay out, then settling back into the couch with a short yawn and a lick of his nose. Oh, that's right, she asked something. Yes, this one does swim sometimes, though has never tried in the man-form. Is not sure how he would manage it. Had enough trouble learning to /walk/ on just two feet. Does the Voice of Blades swim?
"Well if you ever want to, make sure you talk to one of the man-born first. There are.. special.. clothes. For swimming." Dag says, a couple fingers reaching up to scratch at her scar in a strange gesture. "Often. I was competitive in it for many many years. Pretty decent, but I was in it for the swimming more than the winning. If you wanted to learn in the man-skin, I could teach you. It may be important, maybe not. But it is fun." Another yawn exits her mouth and her eyes pull shut this time, wrinkles forming in the corners.
Starcaller the humans will come up with clothing for /everything/. It confuses this one. Admits that he wears clothing in the man-skin mostly for the pockets, and secondly for fitting in among the humans. Pockets are wondrous things. Then she does it again, and the wolf visibly fights a yawn for a moment before he gives in, head tilting back as his jaw opens, whining faintly at the apex of the gesture before blinking up at the ceiling. Bleh. Stoppit! He sits up a little, amounting to not much more than lifting his head from the girl's lap, and starts trying to lick her face, or at least reach her chin. Stop that, you're infecting him with your sleepyface mouth opening disease!
"It's not nice to show your bits off in public! That's why!" She says defensively, unable to help the laugh that follows and then curls away from wolf-licks. Instead of her chin, he gets her in the ear and she groans with a loud, pretend 'aaagh' before giving the wolf's neck a light hug. "Yawns are contagious. Like giggles, or bad jokes."
Starcaller fails to see what isn't nice about it! This ones bits are fully visible right now, after all! But he just wiggles into the hug with a chuffing laugh, nearly a lupine giggle, tail thwapping happily against the couch as he declares that he shall just have to save the Voice of Blades from this terrible face-opening disease she is unwittingly passing around. So hah! Have at you! Which is why he starts playfully gnawing at her shoulder, teeth not even dimpling the skin and serving more as a means of transmitting slobber. Rar!
Such an honest, truly innocent admission such as his actually puts a blush in the Get's cheeks, causing her scar to go from pink to white against the rosy backdrop. "Aaaai am not going to be the one to explain that one to you." She says, turning her head away with a laugh. And then she's gnawed on, which has her replying, "Oh, yea? Take this!" The shoulder he chews on becomes unstable briefly and when it returns, its covered in thick brown fur and the hispo'd get starts chewing on one of his ears gently, playing.
Ack ack halp halp murder he's being repressed! The wolf squirms and flails mildly as the tables are turned, forepaws swatting against the Hispo's bulk without much force at all, the yips and similar protests from the Starcaller in much the same mood as his earlier gnawing was. Please don't kill him he hasn't even had pups yet his mother would be terribly disappointed with him aaaaaaaaaugh~
She sits back and stares at him in a very 'Really? You're playing THAT card?' kind of way, before her lungs give way to a rumbling hispo laugh. It's kinda loud, but it's mirthful. ~You are not so far from understanding man after all! Your priorities before death seem very similar.~ Even then, she resumes the chewing, but eventually just devolves into slobbering on his face.
Ackpthbffbt! After a bit more squirming and swatting and protestations of murder, the wolf wriggles off the couch completely, hits the floor with a thud and bounces away backwards several feet, ears up and tail going a mile a minute. Hah! He has escaped you, vile beast!
The couch is big, sure, but not big enough for the hispo to remain on it and stand all bad-ass like. Front paws slide to the floor and her rump flops on the cushions, tail flip-flopping back and forth on either side. Her tongue lolls and she glances around the room. There are.. breakable things. ~Let's go to the bawn and play? Unless you have to stay city-side?~
Starcaller, reminded by the Get's words, sighs and droops a little, tail stilling and head lowering. This one should stay close to the city, yes. As much as he wants to go romp with the Voice of Blades, he has responsibilities. Another sigh, then he pads back over to the couch to nuzzle under the Hispo's jaw, ears sliding back and declaring that he has certainly enjoyed his time here, and will definitely come back to visit. And hopes fervently that he will have enough time to himself to chase the Voice of Blades around the bawn soon.
This seems to droop the big Get, also, and her expression just falls dead, more out of resignation than being upset. ~This is true. You are dedicated to your duty, and that is admirable. Is there any help that I could give? I do not offer to say that you cannot accomplish your tasks on your own, but I would like to help.~ Her tail wags, flapping against the cushions in an animated way.
Starcaller wurfs happily into the Get's ruff, stepping back a little before plunking his haunches to the floor. This one appreciates the offer. Is currently concerned mostly with getting those in the city organized, or at least those beneath his care for the moment. Is working with the Gaian halfmoon, Cracks the Nut of Truth, to try and set up a communication system within the city, for passing news quickly to those beyond the borders without having to rely on the talking Weaver devices. But primarily this one is concern with learning exactly what is going on and how he and his Tribe can help to deal with it.
~A good place to start is with the Walkers, if you have not already. They have much information about the city. Their Elder is both wise and ardent in caring for Gaia's cities, as much as the wilderness.~ The big brown leans forward and bonks noses with the Star Caller, jaw dropping into a grin.
Starcaller returns the nose-bump with an answering smile, indicating that he had intended to speak with First-Strike-rhya soon, yes. Had been checking on his Tribe's cubs and Cliath until now, making sure he knew who was where and doing what. In fact, he should probably get back to that. This one gives profound thanks for the Voice of Blades' hospitality. Dropping his belly to the floor, the wolf lowers his ears and sweeps his tail low against the carpet in a show of submission before climbing back to his feet. This one hopes he can return the favor in some way in the future.
The drop of his body and posture have the Get looking a little confused, and uncertain, so she leans forward and bumps her head with his again. ~That you stayed and spoke with me is more than enough of a return. We all do what we can for one another, yes?~ She grins, and slides up to homid again, moving to the door. "I won't keep you any longer, then. Should probably shift up to homid. Might be some folk returning home that aren't kin or us."
Starcaller grunts acknowledgement and wriggles his way up through the forms, ending up in Homid still mostly crouched on the floor and tugging his coat straight as he stands, "Is nice place, here. Too bad mixed company." A grin and a tug at the brim of his hat, then the Gnawer followed Dagny to the door, but pauses to rest a hand lightly on the girl's shoulder, his voice lowering a little, gentling, "This one happy sit, talk, anytime. Promise."
"Hopefully, I will be able to live in the pack hall soon. I have more things to finish, but.. It's getting closer. Then it will be safe for wolf-shape." She smiles, and looks at the hand briefly, a bit of a surprised look and smile growing on her face. "Likewise. Take care of yourself, yea? You need anythin' just come over an' lemme know, yea?" The door is unlocked and opened for the Gnawer.
Starcaller nods in return, smile coming back easily, "Will do. Quiet nights, clear eyes." With that parting, the Theurge turns away and heads back out into the main room, recovering his bag from where he left it, and heads back out onto the streets without a backward glance.
W h e n: Afternoon - Evening, 8.3.08
W h e r e: Brownstone - Dagny's place.
W h a t: On his tour of the city, Stars discovers Brownstone and remembers the offer to come visit that Voice-of-Blades gave him out on the bawn. So, he comes to visit!
H'oh, boy. XD
Outside the tall building, the day is pleasant and light of wind. Below sixty-degrees, a few people are seen wearing light jackets as they pass on the sidewalk. Within the lobby of the Brownstone building, however, the temperature is another ten degrees cooler. And with good reason. There is a stream of heat coming from an open door. The little plate on the wall next to the door reads 'superintendent', and is covered in scratches of wear and tear. Wear and tear that just happen to crudely shape a glyph for the Get of Fenris. The heat comes with sizzling sounds and smells of cooking. A small table outside this room is set up against the wall. Crock pot, bowls, spoons and forks, and a tray of crackers and sliced cheeses of different kinds. With the door open, it's easy to catch glimpses of the tank-topped and blue-jeaned woman within, working busily in her kitchen. Skillet in one hand, bottle of beer in the other, cigarette dangling from her lips off to the side. Low string-and-piano music is playing within, as well.
Oh, hey, it's that time of day when most people are thinking about lunch. He'd quite forgotten. Busybusybusy. But then he found himself in front of a certain building without consciously thinking about going there. Hey, this is the place that... oh my, that smells heavenly. The door is checked, opened, and allowed to fall closed as the Starcaller toddles within, blinking a little at the change in temperature. Huh. "Hello?"
The ground floor is mostly deserted, the arranged chairs in the common area devoid of butts to depress them, and the crockpot mostly untouched, save for one or two bowls gently set in a plastic bin beneath the table, dirtied spoons with them. The aroma of the crock pot is mostly meaty - not beef, but deer, and seasoned with several strong ingredients to give it an almost barbecue-like quality. The offered greeting catches the attention of the woman in the kitchen and she walks forward, beer in one hand, cigarette still in her teeth. Her arms, neck, and cheek are peppered with scars, most of them looking deliberate. Runes, a few glyphs. She blinks at the fellow's get up and then smiles, lopsided. "I'm fair sure you ain' here to see about an apartment. Grab a bowl." She indicates, hooking a thumb over toward the table.
Stars blinks a few times at the taller girl, then just grins and lets the duffel slip from his shoulder, settling it to the floor against one wall, "Come try find friend, she say live here." Okay, put this one in the 'probably mildly insane' category of homeless. Broken syntax is only part of it, the young man's words are oddly inflected, their pacing slightly off as well. Or maybe English just isn't his first language. But he chirps a cheerful "Thankful" as he moves over towards the indicated stewpot, expression clearly stating his approval of the smells coming from it.
He gets no strange look from her. She does study him a bit, though - eyes tracking him in an unblinking, prey-beast fashion. They're just as gray-blue and light as they always are, no matter what shape she's in. The syntax is smirked at a little bit, and Dag's posture relaxes. "Your friend's got a name, yea? You tell it to ol' Dag here an' I'll just see if she ain' home. You want anything to drink?"
He hesitates over the stew, taking a moment to dish himself out a serving and thus buy a little time to think. Hm. "Fenrir." There, that should be safe enough. The stew in his bowl is blown on a bit to cool it, and the Starcaller looks like he might have actually forgotten to grab a spoon for a moment, but remembers before digging in with fingers and face. Oh, right, that thing. "Meet her out near park," and he tilts his head eastward, towards the Bawn, before smiling, "Drink be nice, thank."
The name he gives actually makes her laugh a little and she nods. "Well, you're in the right building." Dag says, tapping the name plate. The hesitance with the spoon actually puts a bigger, understanding smirk on the Get's face and she steps out and gestures into her apartment. "Sure. Why not come on in and slip into something a bit more.. comfortable, eh?"
Stars perks up visibly, somehow managing to give the impression of pricked ears even in Homid, and grins before pattering along inside, happily shovelling in a mouthful or three along the way. For all he had to actively remember to grab the spoon, he seems proficient enough with it, and isn't even a messy eater. "This one forget ask Blade Voice other name, appologize," and neither did he think to ask how she looked without fur, so the fact that he's currently talking to the girl in question goes blithely over his head. Stupid human nose, good for absolutely nothing.
"It's Dagny, Starcaller-yuf. And no worries, I sometimes forget it, too." The door closes behind her and a lock is engaged. "If you want to go wolf in here, you can. Just not in the lobby. Basement is wolf-friendly, too, but the rest of the building y'gotta put your people-face on. How do you want your drink? Glass or bowl, and what kind would you like? Got beer, tea, water, milk, mead.." She moves back into the kitchen and snags a slice of cheese, laying the cigarette on a small ashtray and forgetting it for the time being. There are many strange smells in her little apartment, among them a few unfriendly ones. Like silver.
Oh, well, this is convenient! Dagny gets a beaming grin, then the bowl is set to the floor and the Starcaller's in his birthform between one blink and the other, cheerfully wolfing down (har har) the gifted meal, tail wagging happily. This one would appreciate some water, Voice of Blades. Your hospitality is marvelous. After a moment stuffing his face, the wolf sits up, licks his chops, and looks around with interest, ears swivelling around both to catch the Fenrir's words and anything else. Oooo... This one will remember the limitations. Was unsure of how to conduct himself upon arrival, is glad things were as simple as they were.
A heavy, earthen bowl is drawn out of a cupboard and the tap runs for a few moments, fingers testing the temperature before deeming it satisfactory. She brings the filled bowl over and sets it down next to the stew bowl and grins. The water has a very light lemon-scent to it, seems she squeezed one over the bowl before filling it. "It's not often I get to play host, so I suppose I should be thanking you. And don't even worry about it, it's more my fault for not explaining beforehand. Lucky my place is on the ground floor, eh?" She waggles brows and then plunks down on the couch across from him, still nibbling cheese. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Caller of Stars?"
Starcaller flips his ears in thanks as the water is brought back, taking a moment to slake his thirst before responding. A flip of the tail and a cant of one ear indicate that he was simply in the area, recognized the building he had been told about, and was debating investigating further when the delightful smells caught his attention. Could not resist. So reminded, he goes back to the stew briefly, happy that he found such a pleasent meal. Otherwise is fairly certain he would have forgotten to eat this mid-day. Busy, busy time lately.
"Seems to be a common occurrence among us. That's why I usually make it easy for folk that live 'round here, s'pecially. There's usually a lot more downstairs in the basement, too, since that's mostly where the tribe is. You're always welcome here, long as y'follow rules an' y'know. Play nice." She says in offering, grabbing her beer from the counter and taking a long drink from it before side-tabling it. "You in the city a lot, then?"
Starcaller always plays nice! Doesn't even nip hard. The last of the stew is polished off, and the wolf settles back on his haunches to lick his chops. His expression sobers a little at Dagny's question, but not out of any bad mood so much as just moving on to slightly more important things. This one is watching the city for Ears-rhya while she is away for her Challenge, at the request of Gauntlet-Runner-rhya. As such, this one has been spending a lot of time rushing about, making sure of where things are and what is going on. He doesn't think the frantic pace will last too long. Hopes not.
At mention of Kaz, the Get's grin flourishes fond, and she looks from his face down to the bottle. "Doin' good work, then. Miss that gnawer somethin' fierce. She had a hand in my Galliard training, y'know." She leans sideways, setting her ribs on the arm of a chair and thinking. "Yea, you an' me /hope/ it doesn't last long. Hell knows what's gonna happen next in this place. I come here once a day and then stick to the Bawn. Hate the city." She takes a swig and then mmfs in a remembering sort of way. "Viktor from the Shadow Lords is looking for you, by the way."
Starcaller quirks an ear in interest, noting the news about Viktor with thanks, but tables it as he pads over to lay his chin lightly on the girl's knee, looking up at her. This one can understand those that prefer the woods. Finds the city fascinating, himself. Has not been back to the Bawn, or even as far as the House on the edge, since he spoke with the Voice of Blades out there. Too much to be done, and this one does not mind sleeping in the city, though it can be noisy. Oh! and ears lift a little as he remembers to add that he's trying to stay near, or at least drop by the den of Fat-Ripper frequently, in case people need to find him. Does the Voice of Blades know it?
"Well, you're welcome to den here if you're on this side too late. Basement is open and there are some storage closets that have some blankets and stuff lain out. Anyone asks, Dag said you could stay an' if they hae a problem, they talk to me." The chin on her knee is looked at, considered, and one of her hands lingers out to brush thumb over his eye on the brow bone - if he doesn't pull away, anyway. "I know Olga and Squeaks. Never been to their place, though. I'm either here, bawn, or infrequently, the tenement building. If I ain' in those three places, though, I prolly don't want to be found." She chuckles, and even pats the open part of the sofa next to her in offering.
Starcaller lets his eyes slide closed, apparently quite pleased with the hand on his head, but then blinks at the invitation before opening his jaw a bit in a grin and clambering up, resettling himself with his head in Dagny's lap if she doesn't object. This one wouldn't dream to intrude on the Voice of Blades' privacy, but thanks her for the offering of her den. Likewise, if she finds herself needing his assistance, she has only to ask. And she has his vouch if she ever needs to go to Tenacity's territory, to the east of the river. His pack is a gentle one when it comes to borders, but politeness is always appreciated.
"I appreciate that. I would like to meet the rest of your pack, at some point. There are names I do not know and would like to put faces with them." She doesn't object, and once he settles, her hand resumes its place and its ministrations. It would very much be a redneck and man's-best-friend scenario, if they weren't Garou. She taps the end of the bottle against her cheek in an unconscious motion-for-motion's sake a few times and takes a deep breath. "Gotta say, though. Back there." She indicates the dark green room down the hall. "Off limits. There's stuff in there that's important to me, and you may not like some of the decorations, so."
Starcaller's tail thumps lightly against the couch as the petting resumes, ears relaxing into a lazy slump an his eyes nearly closing again. Tenacity is a good pack, under the East Wind. We try to make things better more than anything else. Protect and support those within our territory, help each other when events drag heavily. We had even brought the Firestarter mostly back from her near-hatred of her fellow garou, though that endeavor was sadly cut short. An ear swivels in the direction of Dagny's gesture, and the wolf repeats that he will never intentionally violate another's privacy. Though has seen so many things in his years that he doubts anything as simple as decorations would unnerve him. After all, it's not like the Voice of Blades has stepped down the Black Spiral.
"She was a loss." Dag says simply, taking another slow, deep breath. "Hell of a fighter, both against the Wyrm and other garou." She laughs a little, and leans her head back against the cushion, hand still gently and tenderly sharing companionable affection with the Gnawer. "Nah, I know you won't. S'not that. Just sayin', I have what made this and it's a bit off-putting for some folk." She indicates the scars on her face. "Fuckin' guy had a silver knife." She eyes him at mention of the Abominable Spiral. "No. I haven't. That would be total madness. Besides, Gaia frowns on shit like that." Fingers move between his ears and scritch, arm otherwise gently lain over the Gnawer. "How many places do Garou go when they die?" She asks of him.
Starcaller opens his eyes to look up at the indicated scars, ears lifting a little more to indicate that he's paying attention than anything. Then he quips that this one is not bothered by moon-metal, provided it isn't being used on his person. Does not carry it himself, as he doesn't care for the feel of it. But is not going to dive under the couch if some happens by. A lazy yawn and a bit of a stretch, then the Gnawer resettles himself, ears splaying to the sides as he considers the Fenrir's question. Primarily, the garou are reborn, brought back to this material world to continue the battle against the Wyrm. Some stay in the spirit, to battle there. As far as this one knows, there is no true life-after for the garou, merely the next in the line of existances.
This earns a grunt of acknowledgement, and she nods. "Just and endless cycle, then." She says aloud, yawning, and slumping further into the couch cushions. Nrf. Were she lupine, her ears would be splayed out somewhat unhappily. However, as she's not, she merely gives the ceiling a blank, distracted stare. Until her oven beeps. "Cookies are done." She says softly, lifting his chin and replacing her lap with a pillow for him. Squishy. Into the kitchen she goes, and drags an oven mit over, opening the oven and releasing the smell of chocolate chip and walnut cookies out into the air. Onto a cooling rack the whole sheet goes and she removes the mit to poke at one of them. "Be about ten-fifteen minutes 'til they're cool enough."
Starcaller wouldn't say /endless/. All things end, even the Great Battle. But certainly a long and repeating cycle, yes. There's a soft grunt as his chin is shifted, not quite a grumble and mostly just in objection that he was comfortable oh hey a pillow. The wolf shifts around a bit on the couch as Dagny moves off, stretching out and turning his head to watch her deal with the oven, commenting idly that he does not think he's ever met a Fenrir that enjoyed cooking as much as the Voice of Blades seems to. Not that he's objecting, by any means, and his tail thumps against the couch again in good humor.
"Until Fimbulwinter, anyway." She remarks, on the 'cycle' line. At the cooking remark, she looks a little surprised, but smiles along with the raising of both brows. "It is an art, you know. Dealing in precision. I'm already good at being blunt and bull-dozing things. But that doesn't always get the job done. Cooking helps hone skills in being precise. You should see the birthday cakes I make. Besides. It reminds me of home. Most of these are my grandmother's recipes, so they make me feel a little closer to her and granda. And it's not like anyone else is going to make sure the Get get fed proper."
Starcaller sees the Voice of Blades' point. Interesting. This one has absolutely no skill with cooking, and is not skilled enough with the man-tongue to truly learn, or at least not easily. But is perfectly happy with his talents lying in other areas. Another yawn, then the Gnawer actually rolls over on his back, paws in the air, snuggling down in to the couch a bit further. It is good that someone with aptitude has decided to be the den-mother of your Tribe. Such things are important, and all too often neglected, sadly.
"Again, you can kind of attribute that to Kaz-rhya. By being a mother to nearly everyone that would let her, she kinda showed me that it was okay, y'know? Being strong and good in war does not mean you cannot tend to the ones around you with kindness. I kind of enjoy it." She spatulas the cookies from the sheet and onto the rack directly, holding the pan with a bare hand. She looks over at the couch and grins. "If you want to nap there, you can."
Starcaller is not sleepy, though he appreciates the offer. Was merely getting comfortable. This stretches out his back nicely, and is so hard to do comfortably on anything except a couch. A bit of a wiggle of paws at the ceiling also indicates that it helps him think, sometimes. Gets the blood moving in new directions. He himself is no great warrior in the slightest. Is a bit of a coward, actually, tending to run from battle instead of towards it. Finds that he is much more skilled in battles within his fellow garou. The easing of grief, the tempering of fury, those are his battlefields. And, if the need arises, he is more than able to give an uppity spirit a good cuffing, most times. And probably convince it not to eat him if he is not.
"All of us have our specialties, and just because yours may not be the same as mine does not make it any less important to Gaia and the preservation of our lives and hers. In fact, yours is probably the more important of the two of ours. I can hurt, I can maim, I can kill, but I am no mind-healer. I can't ease the pull of fury in others. Hell, have a hard enough time doin' that for myself, let alone." She laughs, and pulls a cookie from the cooling rack and dangles it above. "Want one?" She asks, before also saying, "I don't think its cowardly to want to live to do what you do best."
Starcaller would be delighted, yes, thank you. The wolf rolls back over onto his front, head lifted with ears perked and jaw hanging in an easy smile. This one does what he can, though it all too often isn't enough. Sometimes is even cast away, sadly. Would that it were as simple and straightforward as the healing Touch. Within the mind is a harder wound to heal than upon the body. A curious sniff is aimed towards the Fenrir, wondering if there's anything she wishes to talk about? This one may not have anything to help, but can always listen.
Dropping the cookie into the waiting mouth, Dag smiles widely before backing into the kitchen again, watching him to interpret gestures. "Yea, no shit. Some wounds are self-inflicted and those are sometimes worse than the ones that happen to us. Friend of mine is goin' through that right now, and I'm frickin' awful at fixing that kinda shit. Like I said. Making wounds is more my thing." She grabs a cookie and inspects the edges of it. Golden brown all through. Good. Chomp.
Starcaller munches happily, lifting his muzzle to avoid dropping more crumbs than necessary on the couch. Mm, that's good. This one reminds the Voice of Blades as to what she just said. Everyone has their own talents. Who is this friend, and what happened, can she tell this one? Now the Fenrir is fixed with a highly focussed regard, not a dominance stare but possibly still a little unnerving. The lupe's ears are pricked forward, his eyes having darkened from their usual hazel to something closer to a dark bronze, and /everything/ of his body language speaks of intense attention to details.
There's something about the stare that has her staring right back. The Gnawer may be aware of the switching tensions in her posture. Speak or don't speak? That's the war. When it seems like the battle will go on endlessly, a deep breath divides the two warring sides and she straightens her posture, pale eyes easing but not breaking contact. "He lost an alpha, but more than that, he lost a brother and a very dear friend. He feels responsible. Saw it happen, blames himself for not being able to run faster, or jump farther to stop it from happening. To get in between a Dancer and his friend before said friend was killed."
Starcaller sighs, lowering his muzzle as the situation is revealed, resting his chin on the couch as his ears track around almost randomly. That is a common wound, and also one of the hardest to heal. Forever the man mind comes up with things that could have been, or should have been, but were not. This one thinks it is a condition endemic to the humans. All that he has spoken to show symptoms. Who is this friend? Again, the eyes lift, though they're back to their normal hazel and not nearly as intent. If this one encounters them, perhaps will be able to help.
"I am conflicted. If I tell you, and you see him and speak with him, he may react.. poorly. He's a very strong-willed and bull-headed New Moon. Thinks more like an ahroun on several things. I suppose that's partly my doing, and partly Cael's." She looks down at the cookies and snags another one, popping it into her mouth before bringing another over and holding it in front of Stars' mouth. "If he gets mad at you, if you talk to him, tell him Dag asked you to. His name is Riley, Stares-Down-Death-to-Evacuate-the-Fallen, or Evac since the other one's a fuckin' mouthful."
Starcaller shifts to the side to free up sitting-room on the couch as Dagny comes back over, reaching out to delicately take the offered cookie from her fingers and scarf it down. A moment of quiet thought, licking crumbs from his whiskers before turning back to regard the Fenrir. This one will see what he can do, if he gets the time, and if he finds the Evacuator. Only then does the Gnawer whine softly, tilting his head to ask if the Voice of Blades is worried only for this no-moon? He may not understand the two-footed folk as well as he could, but she seems... sad.
She moves around to the front of the couch and sits, watching the cookie disappear with a light grin on her face. Her eyes seem tired, though. The conversation has gone places where her energy and light spirit have abandoned her and she leans forward to cradle her chin in her palm, elbow digging into her knee. "Not just him. Golden-Tongue, as well. He and North-Star were very close friends, helped eachother out often when boy-talk was needed, y'know?" She smiles a little. Leaning back, the Get stares out ahead of her, not looking at the Theurge directly, and using her tongue to pick things out of her teeth. "I worry about both of them. And Ishmael, too. He's a tough kid though with a mind like stone, so.. I know he can handle his grief well enough, and unless he seeks me out, I'm not going to throw a monkey wrench in the works. We were all together since we were cubs. Very soon after we arrived in this life, that is. There were six of us. Then Matt died. Then Cael died. Now it's just four."
Starcaller puffs a soft breath through his lips, letting Dagny get settled as she will before lightly placing his head in her lap once more, easily brushed away if she feels like it, his eyes having gone dark again, though they lack the almost feverish focus of before. Actually, the Gnawer is displaying a lot of deference in his posture and body language at the moment, a yielding of dominance and lack of threat. This one worries that such a series of occurances may bring the fear that the rest will follow into death, and that fear shall become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Has seen it happen before, when grief turns into something much more insidious, dragging the aflicted into suicide through lack of care or forethought.
The opposite is true, actually. When he resettles, her hand instantly, gently, finds space on the back of his neck and resumes contact, gently kneading into the fur. As if to say that the closeness is most welcome. "Knowing him as well as I do, I.. think you have it down exactly. I haven't told him we won't die. I haven't told him everything is going to be all right. Because I can't. Because it won't. I will die. Sean will die. Izzy will die. All of us will, it isn't a matter of if, but when, and I.. it's hard, because I don't want to get him back on solid ground, where he can be happy, only to have it undone by another death and what he feels and thinks now come back twice as ugly, and his trust takes a beating."
Starcaller mumbles happily at the feel of fingers in his ruff, wiggling a little to get more comfortable before commenting, thinking that the denial of sure things is another of those aspects of the man mind he has difficulty understanding. It may be comforting to think that something will not happen, but when it /does/ happen with that thought in place, the blow is twice as fierce. Death is a part of being Garou. Even the small and weak may be called to fight the Wyrm with no more weaponry than we were born with. It is... a hard truth. But truth, nonetheless.
"But how do you tell that to someone when they still hurt from loss to that kind of world? He still has claws and teeth sunk into the human side of things. Glass Walker and new moon, he feels the pull, but.. Why is it easier for me to accept that, and not him?" She puzzles aloud, and looks down at him. "I can't lie to him. But in the meantime, I do not have the words otherwise to help him feel better. Sean was easier to console and comfort and that.. well, that surprised me."
The wolf licks his lips a few times, thinking, eyes sliding mostly shut in a half-lazy, half-distracted air. This one has found that the best way to deal with survivor's guilt is to aim the survivor's attention at different aspects of the death. That it was doing Gaia's work. That it saved lives. That wasting energy pining over the fallen comrade will make that comrade's sacrifice as nothing, or worse, handicap everything they hoped to protect with their death. The crippled warrior removes two fighters from the battle, himself and the one that must carry him.
Another grunt, this one stating that she had not thought of one of the things he describes. "To do that.. That will hurt him. I tried to explain that Cael's was a /good/ death. And it was! He fell killing Black Spirals, that he was doing what he was born to do.. He won't buy into that. Even Cliath, he still wishes for his humanity sometimes. But.. the other. Isn't that just making him feel guilty for feeling guilty when he should be happy, but isn't? Is that even.. /okay/?"
Starcaller doesn't know if that tack will work, mind. But sometimes a boil must be lanced to heal. Sometimes there must be pain for life to continue, or even to start. A soft sigh, then the Theurge's ears swing back. This one has seem others that dislike, fear, even hate the fact that they are now garou. The Firestarter was one of them, though she learned to love her wolf eventually. This one utterly fails to understand it, but comes from a life here he would be old and decrepit by now, if not already dead, if he had not awakened to Luna's favor. He can barely even remember the times before his First Change, before his mind flowered.
"He is prepared to fight and live and love, but it is hard for him to understand that death is also a part of this. He misses the human parts. Where life was easier, there was no wyrm to steal his friends.. I understand it. I also.. wish that he felt the same as I do about all this. I'm in the same boat as you. Were it not for Luna's push in this direction, I wouldn't be here either. I love this life of mine." Dag says, looking at him and scritching the back of one of his ears. "I sometimes wish I were wolf-born instead."
Starcaller snorts a gentle laugh, thinking that there were times he wishes he were human-born, if only so he could understand them better. There are so many /more/ garou born of the humans, after all, that this one sometimes finds himself at a disadvantage. Still, he has lasted four years in this new world, and intends to last many more. There is so much yet to learn. A paw is lifted to lightly pat against the side of Dagny's thigh, happy that she is able to take joy in the life she has, instead of pining for the one that she does not. It is perhaps too soon to hope that the Evacuator can heal his pain. The wound is fresh, after all. Give him some time, be as gentle as circumstances allow, but do not allow him to slide into despair. That way lies worse than death. That way lies the Wyrm's clutches.
"Shit, if you think being born human means you understand them better, you been listening to the wrong humans. It's confusing even for those of us that've /been/ human since birth. And besides, you have a better grasp on us than I do, half the time." She says, laughing gently. The scritching stops and she leaves her arm draped gently over the Gnawer's shoulders, listening to his advice and nodding with it. "He has.. a very good, and strong heart. But I worry about that - his grief. Where it may take him if he indulges it too much. I do not want to think of having to bring him down if the Wyrm takes him, somehow." She shakes her head, as if to rid herself of the thought. Then she looks at him with a smile - eyes a little brighter and grin a little more solid. "You are very wise."
Starcaller takes a moment to wonder /why/ everyone keeps saying that? He doesn't /feel/ wise. Just knows how to look at things and say what he thinks. Harumpf. But then he gets back to the subject at hand, thinking that perhaps the best thing to do for the no-moon at the moment will be to keep the grief from swallowing him. Give him other things to occupy his attention. Have him /do/ things other than sit and weep. Then the wolf sits up a bit, lifting his nose to nuzzle at the Get's cheek, thinking that it is good that the one that Evacuates the Fallen has friends that are willing to carry /him/ when the pain becomes too great.
"Wisdom.. is not something you feel. It's something you convey. If you felt wise, I'd call you a fool." She says gently, fingers smoothing his cheeks. "In this case, consider wisdom to be the ability to step out of a situation and to see it at all possible angles. How to make it turn out in a way that benefits all. Sometimes our tempers and emotions make us stupid. Wisdom is not letting them do that to us, and instead, tells them to quiet so that true balance can be maintained." At the nose-touch, she laughs gently and turns her head to nuzzle his cheek in return. A wolfish gesture in homid form, silly, but well-meant. "If I did anything less, I could not call myself his friend."
Starcaller huffs, still unconvinced, but not willing to turn the point into an argument, as silly as it is. Instead, he goes back to laying with his head in Dagny's lap for a moment before tipping his chin up off her thigh to look up at her, struck by a thought and suddenly contrite. This one does not mean to take up the Voice of Blades' time, merely found himself curious, then thinking and she was kind enough to answer and listen.
Blinking at the suddenness of his thought, she looks taken aback briefly, but quickly recovers with a laugh. "Ah, no no! I had nothing planned for today. I welcome the chance for days like this. Aside from cooking and doing some baking, my day was open. I am lucky that you stopped by." She assures him, smoothing his ears. "No promises that I won't fall asleep, though. I've been up before the sun."
Starcaller relaxes instantly at the reassurance, nuzzling into the touch to his head before settling again. This one wanted to be sure. Knows he has a tendency to start off after any little thing that catches his attention and forget other people's wishes, sometimes. Though he is sorry that he cannot properly converse with the Voice of Blades in her own tongue. The man-language confuses this one no end. At least the Mother's Tongue follows some semblance of logic.
"There's no need to apologize. We each have different means of expression that are most comfortable for us. For me, I speak through good food." She grins, one eye closing while the other keeps tabs on him and his motion. "Or, through visual example, but that's a bit more taxing. And rest assured, if I do not have time, I will let you know before you have the chance to feel bad about taking some of it. Rare as that may occur." She yawns a bit, crooked teeth curling in a circle before her mouth closes. "Besides. You 'speak' more clearly that most I know."
Starcaller flicks his ears, back to front, thinking it has to do with the way he thinks. Was born to the wolf-language, yes, but has learned so very much of the human ways and the world beyond the woods that he /had/ to adapt the language to deal with new concepts. It led to a certain depth of meaning. He finds that he has to try and keep his communications simple sometimes, he relates somewhat sheepishly, or lose the man-born in subtleties. Then the yawn catches him, and his jaws open to show his own teeth, tongue curling before he voices a grumply wheezy snort at the Get. Stop that, you'll put him to sleep.
Dagny watches closely and grins, hand brought forward to scritch under the yawning wolf's chin. "Either that, or we just ignore the more subtler arts of communication. I could probably do to learn from you, even. The two languages are a separate, but equally complex and beautiful art. Imagine, if you will. What if man, or wolf, or garou, never learned to communicate through syllables or actions. How hard it would be to make sense of.. well, anything. In essence, talk is art." Her head plops back on the couch cushion and she looks at him with a lopsided grin.
Starcaller thinks that the Voice of Blades does more interesting things with the man-tongue than he does with his communications. He merely tries to express himself clearly. She makes things sound pretty. Then, however, the wolf apparently decides that he requires a bellyscratch, as he rolls over and waves all four paws briefly in the air before looking up at the Fenrir with big, moist eyes and a soft whine. He has an itch...
One brow raises on the Fenrir's face, and she snort-giggles somewhat inappropriately. "Well, I've had a few years to practice." She says, smirking, and obliges by using both hands to scratch all over the wolf's stomach. "Do you ever go swimming?" She asks, peering at him upside down, leaned over him.
Starcaller witholds an answer to Dagny's question for now, instead wriggling happily and somehow managing to not fall off the couch. After a bit he calms and stretches, toes spreading as he sticks his paws waaaaay out, then settling back into the couch with a short yawn and a lick of his nose. Oh, that's right, she asked something. Yes, this one does swim sometimes, though has never tried in the man-form. Is not sure how he would manage it. Had enough trouble learning to /walk/ on just two feet. Does the Voice of Blades swim?
"Well if you ever want to, make sure you talk to one of the man-born first. There are.. special.. clothes. For swimming." Dag says, a couple fingers reaching up to scratch at her scar in a strange gesture. "Often. I was competitive in it for many many years. Pretty decent, but I was in it for the swimming more than the winning. If you wanted to learn in the man-skin, I could teach you. It may be important, maybe not. But it is fun." Another yawn exits her mouth and her eyes pull shut this time, wrinkles forming in the corners.
Starcaller the humans will come up with clothing for /everything/. It confuses this one. Admits that he wears clothing in the man-skin mostly for the pockets, and secondly for fitting in among the humans. Pockets are wondrous things. Then she does it again, and the wolf visibly fights a yawn for a moment before he gives in, head tilting back as his jaw opens, whining faintly at the apex of the gesture before blinking up at the ceiling. Bleh. Stoppit! He sits up a little, amounting to not much more than lifting his head from the girl's lap, and starts trying to lick her face, or at least reach her chin. Stop that, you're infecting him with your sleepyface mouth opening disease!
"It's not nice to show your bits off in public! That's why!" She says defensively, unable to help the laugh that follows and then curls away from wolf-licks. Instead of her chin, he gets her in the ear and she groans with a loud, pretend 'aaagh' before giving the wolf's neck a light hug. "Yawns are contagious. Like giggles, or bad jokes."
Starcaller fails to see what isn't nice about it! This ones bits are fully visible right now, after all! But he just wiggles into the hug with a chuffing laugh, nearly a lupine giggle, tail thwapping happily against the couch as he declares that he shall just have to save the Voice of Blades from this terrible face-opening disease she is unwittingly passing around. So hah! Have at you! Which is why he starts playfully gnawing at her shoulder, teeth not even dimpling the skin and serving more as a means of transmitting slobber. Rar!
Such an honest, truly innocent admission such as his actually puts a blush in the Get's cheeks, causing her scar to go from pink to white against the rosy backdrop. "Aaaai am not going to be the one to explain that one to you." She says, turning her head away with a laugh. And then she's gnawed on, which has her replying, "Oh, yea? Take this!" The shoulder he chews on becomes unstable briefly and when it returns, its covered in thick brown fur and the hispo'd get starts chewing on one of his ears gently, playing.
Ack ack halp halp murder he's being repressed! The wolf squirms and flails mildly as the tables are turned, forepaws swatting against the Hispo's bulk without much force at all, the yips and similar protests from the Starcaller in much the same mood as his earlier gnawing was. Please don't kill him he hasn't even had pups yet his mother would be terribly disappointed with him aaaaaaaaaugh~
She sits back and stares at him in a very 'Really? You're playing THAT card?' kind of way, before her lungs give way to a rumbling hispo laugh. It's kinda loud, but it's mirthful. ~You are not so far from understanding man after all! Your priorities before death seem very similar.~ Even then, she resumes the chewing, but eventually just devolves into slobbering on his face.
Ackpthbffbt! After a bit more squirming and swatting and protestations of murder, the wolf wriggles off the couch completely, hits the floor with a thud and bounces away backwards several feet, ears up and tail going a mile a minute. Hah! He has escaped you, vile beast!
The couch is big, sure, but not big enough for the hispo to remain on it and stand all bad-ass like. Front paws slide to the floor and her rump flops on the cushions, tail flip-flopping back and forth on either side. Her tongue lolls and she glances around the room. There are.. breakable things. ~Let's go to the bawn and play? Unless you have to stay city-side?~
Starcaller, reminded by the Get's words, sighs and droops a little, tail stilling and head lowering. This one should stay close to the city, yes. As much as he wants to go romp with the Voice of Blades, he has responsibilities. Another sigh, then he pads back over to the couch to nuzzle under the Hispo's jaw, ears sliding back and declaring that he has certainly enjoyed his time here, and will definitely come back to visit. And hopes fervently that he will have enough time to himself to chase the Voice of Blades around the bawn soon.
This seems to droop the big Get, also, and her expression just falls dead, more out of resignation than being upset. ~This is true. You are dedicated to your duty, and that is admirable. Is there any help that I could give? I do not offer to say that you cannot accomplish your tasks on your own, but I would like to help.~ Her tail wags, flapping against the cushions in an animated way.
Starcaller wurfs happily into the Get's ruff, stepping back a little before plunking his haunches to the floor. This one appreciates the offer. Is currently concerned mostly with getting those in the city organized, or at least those beneath his care for the moment. Is working with the Gaian halfmoon, Cracks the Nut of Truth, to try and set up a communication system within the city, for passing news quickly to those beyond the borders without having to rely on the talking Weaver devices. But primarily this one is concern with learning exactly what is going on and how he and his Tribe can help to deal with it.
~A good place to start is with the Walkers, if you have not already. They have much information about the city. Their Elder is both wise and ardent in caring for Gaia's cities, as much as the wilderness.~ The big brown leans forward and bonks noses with the Star Caller, jaw dropping into a grin.
Starcaller returns the nose-bump with an answering smile, indicating that he had intended to speak with First-Strike-rhya soon, yes. Had been checking on his Tribe's cubs and Cliath until now, making sure he knew who was where and doing what. In fact, he should probably get back to that. This one gives profound thanks for the Voice of Blades' hospitality. Dropping his belly to the floor, the wolf lowers his ears and sweeps his tail low against the carpet in a show of submission before climbing back to his feet. This one hopes he can return the favor in some way in the future.
The drop of his body and posture have the Get looking a little confused, and uncertain, so she leans forward and bumps her head with his again. ~That you stayed and spoke with me is more than enough of a return. We all do what we can for one another, yes?~ She grins, and slides up to homid again, moving to the door. "I won't keep you any longer, then. Should probably shift up to homid. Might be some folk returning home that aren't kin or us."
Starcaller grunts acknowledgement and wriggles his way up through the forms, ending up in Homid still mostly crouched on the floor and tugging his coat straight as he stands, "Is nice place, here. Too bad mixed company." A grin and a tug at the brim of his hat, then the Gnawer followed Dagny to the door, but pauses to rest a hand lightly on the girl's shoulder, his voice lowering a little, gentling, "This one happy sit, talk, anytime. Promise."
"Hopefully, I will be able to live in the pack hall soon. I have more things to finish, but.. It's getting closer. Then it will be safe for wolf-shape." She smiles, and looks at the hand briefly, a bit of a surprised look and smile growing on her face. "Likewise. Take care of yourself, yea? You need anythin' just come over an' lemme know, yea?" The door is unlocked and opened for the Gnawer.
Starcaller nods in return, smile coming back easily, "Will do. Quiet nights, clear eyes." With that parting, the Theurge turns away and heads back out into the main room, recovering his bag from where he left it, and heads back out onto the streets without a backward glance.