Pancakes.

[dagny]

W h o: Dagny, Ex, Keir, Moros, Sue
W h e n: 7.24.2012
W h e r e: Edgewood
W h a t: Dag makes breakfast. Stupid shit occurs!


Morning has come and finds Sue outside, sprawled out on the front porch in lupus, though he occasionally looks towards the house and the door. He's found himself a patch of sunlight to lay in, and attention turns across the meadow.

Sunny, indeed. From the edge of the Bawn, a big brown lumbering sack of hispo—looking a bit too much like a bear this morning—comes into view. Judging by the tilt of her ears and the grim set to her jaw, the Get did not sleep all that well. She spots the hooved lupus in the grass and trundles toward him with a low, greeting 'whrf', before flopping in the grass not far from where he's sprawled. ~I think the spirits were screwing with my brain.~

Stands-Between pushes upright to stand, just enough to clamber down off the porch and lay down closer to the Get. Him too. Odd dreams when he slept in the late morning.

Footfalls crunch along the dirt drive long before a lone figure of a lanky youth appears. A silhouette against the backdrop of trees, head tilted forward in a way implying eyes following the ground that passes beneath his feet. It's a slow approach toward the house, by no means hurried, almost thoughtful in nature.

Flitting an ear, the Get peers at the Fury for a moment. ~Did you turn into a crab-giraffe on a swing with toenails singing the Nyan Cat song?~ It should be said that 'Nyan' in Garou-tongue sounds rather weird. The sound of feet approaching has one of the Get's tattered ears swiveling around. A line of fur along her back rises and she sniffs the air, trying to gather something from the wind.

Stands-Between settles down to lay down again, ears twisting towards the sound of approach as well. ~Was on swing. Was… no deformity, perfect,~ the metis responds, the slower and more careful mother tongue of the lupus form. ~On the swing. Then everything muffled.~ That's stated, and the metis whines very quietly. Doesn't know what it might mean.

~And a girl?~ The Get asks, still with her head pointed toward the approaching foot falls. A few longer sniffs and her ears relax. ~Smells of Roach-House. Do you recognize that scent?~ She moves slightly, putting Sue between her two giant front paws as she lays in a Sphinx type posture.

Devon seems fairly unaware of the two wolves, at least when he first breaks away from the treeline and onto the driveway properly. It's the Mother's Tongue that catches his attention first and lifts his head, gaze sweeping from the house to the hispo and wolf lounging in the grass.

Stands-Between twists his ears for a moment. No girl, he responds. ~Felt strong, first part of swing. Felt, weak, wrong, at the last part of swing, dream ended.~ Then he curls, setting his head atop one of the hispo's paws and relaxing in the sun. ~Maybe? Not scent, sight. I think I met him once. Red-Hands?~ The identification of the Walker is offered a little tentatively.

As the Fury does not seem to be disturbed by the appearance of the homid, the Get relaxes and turns her sight toward him. Ears push forward and she whrfls softly. ~Morning. Who're you?~

Devon's step becomes a little hesitant when his name is spoken, expression curious and concerned and without recognition for either of the beasts. A shift in his gaze goes toward the house, but he turns to approach the pair in the grass at least for a few steps before stopping. "Morning," he calls back. "I am Red-Hands. Or Devon. Cliath Ahroun… Glass Walker." He pauses, nodding toward the two indicating each individually. "…Do I know either of you?"

Stands-Between worms his way out from under Dagny's paws, bumping into her affectionately before moving over to sniff at Devon a few times, in greeting. Stands-Between. First-ranked halfmoon of the Black Furies, and Metis. Stands-Between met Red-Hands once?

There's a grunt of some kind of understanding. The Get's head gives a brief nod, mostly, it seems, to herself. ~I thought I smelled Roach-House. And no, we have not met. Come, join us.~ She reaches out with a trash-can-lid sized paw and pats the ground near her. As the Fury gives his introduction, she takes a breath and does the same. ~I am she who Fells the Wyrm with Huginn's Spear, Lorekeeper Moon, Adren under the banner of the Fenrir.~ After a moment, she rises to her paws and gives her body a rough shake, slipping through forms to homid. Arching her back to give it a few pops, the now-woman gives a crooked grin. "You can call me Dag. Either of you boys hungry?"

Devon's mouth tugs upward at one corner, relief touching his expression. "Good to meet you, Dag," he responds, tipping his head toward her and then toward the lupine Metis. "I think… Briefly maybe?" Uncertainty in that one. "You live on the first floor," he continues for confirmation, "and food is always welcome."

Stands-Between continues to sniff at Devon a moment longer and then ducks his head in brief acknowledgement. Then he moves aside, shifts up to homid and adjusts his grip on a hiking pole that's appeared with the shifting, catching his balance. "Sure, Dagny-rhya," the Fury says.

As Devon tries out her name, the Get flashes him a couple thumbs-up, grinning crookedly some more. A series of pops from her shoulders and back sneak into the sound-scape as she stretches once more. When Sue shifts, she reaches over and gently tousles his hair. "I can make everything from flap jacks to steak and eggs. Got most of the stuff for everything, so decide between you two which sounds good and I'll do it up. Man, I'm starved." She glances at Devon for a moment. "Don't suppose you had any kooky dreams last night, didja?"

Moros exits the woods around the house, walking with his head lowered, greasy hair hanging forward over his face. He's headed in the direction of the house, not hurrying.

"Yeah, it… Did you?" Devon looks from Sue, recognition settling in once the Phildox is set in Homid. Then focusing on Dagny again, he nods. "Thought it was just me. Woman in orange and black protecting a baby wrapped in a bright colored blanket."

Dagny blinks for a moment at Devon's description. She looks to Sue for a moment and then back to the Walker. "That wasn't part of the one we had, but… That doesn't mean much." She pats Sue on the shoulder and chuckles. "Remind me after breakfast to find me a Theurge to poke about it." From the corner of her eye, she spots the stalking fellow moving toward the house. With a grin, she raises a hand in a wave. "Yo, we're about to do breakfast inside. You hungry?"

Sue tolerates the tousling of his hair for a moment before he spies his tribemate, ducks away. "Weird dreams, yeah. On a swing, bunch of weird things." Sue angles over towards Moros, for a moment. "Moros, hey." There's a slightly shaky tone in the metis' voice all of a sudden but he seems happy enough to see his tribemate.

Devon looks at Moros when he appears, and a decidedly wary cast sets into his expression. He shifts his weight a little, poised either for fight or flight. "Uh… Yeah. I'm… It's… flapjacks?" The suggestion, rather than talk of weird dreams is presented in guarded tones.

Moros lifts his head as he gets within talking distance of the group and regards the three of them with a frown, red eyes half-lidded. Each one gets a long look, none more than any of the others. He eventually settles his attention on Sue. "You all right?" It's a brusque kind of concern at best, his voice is low and growly.

Sue tilts his head up to look at Moros, and grip tightens on the hiking pole. "Yeah, am now," Sue responds. "Thanks." A pause. "Come join us for breakfast, Moros," the younger metis encourages. Then he takes a step back, looks at Dagny. "Dagny-rhya, this is my tribebrother Moros. Moros, this is Dagny."

At the question, Dag turns from looking at Moros to Devon. "Flapjacks. Y'know. Short stack, pancakes." Returning her sight to the newcomer, Dag lifts a brow a touch at the lack of answer and the question to Sue. She lets the metis handle it for the moment, soaking in the brief introduction. Her brows loft, and a wide grin splits her face. "Oh, hey! Another male Fury, huh? That's pretty rad. They treatin' you arright?" She looks at Moros with gentle concern.

"Yeah, I know," Devon replies to Dagny. His attention remains on Moros, untrusting. "I… it's a suggestion. For food."

Moros turns his eyes back to Dagny and stares down at her. Her tone prompts a slow head-tilt that wouldn't look out of place in a slasher movie (with Moros as the psychotic killer, of course). He considers his answer for a few seconds before giving it. "Yes."

Sue bites his lower lip for a second, and moves back over to Dagny, shouldering into the Get for a moment, such as reassurance goes, before he turns for the house. "All this talk of food's made me hungry," he voices, though rather quietly.

Dagny turns and beams at Sue, slinging her arm around his shoulder both as a show of affection, and also a gentle offer for him to lean on her for walking support. "Well then, let's get you boys fed. Flapjacks it is, unless your friend here doesn' like pancakes." She turns and smiles to Moros again. A glance between the taller metis and Devon brings Dag to skew her lips sideways. "I'm not gonna have to break out the kiddie table, am I? You boys gonna behave?"

Devon shakes his head before prying his attention off Moros. "No," he replies. His brows push together and a final furtive glance is angled toward the Fury Ahroun. "I… think I'll pass. Actually. It… Nice to meet you Dag. Sue, see y'round." A backward step is taken, and he turns on the second to start back for the road.

Moros glances at Devon, sizing the Walker up for a moment before giving a shrug and turning away; he clearly gives no fucks about Devon. Dagny gets another look, his expression suggesting that he's still trying to figure her out. He jerks his head back, flicking away the greasy black hair, and says, "I'm fine with pancakes."

A skinny, black-furred wolf slinks into view at the far side of the meadow, and then starts puppy-plodding her way toward the gathering. She has a sketchbook clenched between her teeth (poor book), and her ears are twisted back. Her movements are ungainly at best, clearly uncoordinated. When they move inside, so does she, at a somewhat faster, and even more uncoordinated clip.

Keir is already inside, sprawled on the couch. Lord knows if he's asleep or not, but either way he's got an MP3 player plopped on his chest, a single earbud in, and it's loud enough so the very faint strains of classic rock can be heard.

Slinging her arm underneath Sue's, Dagny half-carries the metis against her side and up into the house, gently letting him go near a comfy arm chair. Spotting Keir on the couch she walks over and gently taps his forehead for a moment, alerting him to new presences. Out of the corner of her eye she spots the lupus and says, "Wipe your paws, please." Afterwards, she slips toward the kitchen, still well within ear shot and not too far to talk to the group.

Sue doesn't object to the help, and it lets the younger Fury get into the house at a pace reasonably approaching everyone else, and then he sits down not in the available chair, but on the floor in front of it. Rogue gets a look, and then a further look as Sue recognises her, but the slightly cheerful grin on his face doesn't actually go away. "Hi Ex." Another pause. "Hi, Keir-rhya."

Moros ducks his head as he passes through the doorway, coming in at the rear of the group. His head's lowered again, red eyes narrow behind the overhang of hair (yes, it's back over his face again), mouth pulled into a slight scowl. He's watching the interaction between Dagny and Sue especially, though Ex's arrival distracts him toward her, especially when Sue names her.

Keir flinches away from the tapping, swatting at the prodding hand with surprising reflexes. It's not hard, though, and he sits up with a 'mmf' and tugs the earbuds free. "Sue," he greets, and it's a bit quizzical, apparently associating him with the awakening.

Rogue looks toward Dagny at the instructions, and her ears twist back a little further. She does attempt to scrape one paw across the step before entering, though it wouldn't have had much effect even if her paws were particularly muddy. Once inside, she drops onto her haunches right near the door, and spits the sketchbook out in front of her. There's tension in the prickle of her fur, no surprise. Her nose twitches wildly.

"It was me, Keir." The voice comes from the direction of the kitchen, female, one that the blind 'Gazer will be familiar with. After a moment, the Get pauses in gathering her things and moves back to the main room. She looks around and double-takes at Sue, chuckling. "What, my chair ain' good enough for you? Silly thing." She detours and bodily lifts Sue, placing him gently in the cushy hold of the arm chair. Afterward, she moves to the blind Ahroun. She puts her hand on his shoulder gently. "Do you want a look around? There's a small group in here. I'm about to make pancakes."

Sue startles a little at Dagny, and his glance flits to Moros, a little helplessly. "Still want to talk to you later, Moros," the younger Fury manages to say, though it doesn't sound nearly as pissed-off as he's been. Nor is there any real force behind the request.

Moros's jaw clenches, thick fingers curling inward, not quite into fists. Irritated, he turns away abruptly from Sue and Dagny and steps over toward Ex.

Keir tilts his head a bit, taking in all the voices and the noises. He sits up with an effort, pulling the hood more firmly over his head. "No," the Stargazer says with a crooked frown. "I've had enough of that today." He's in a bit of a Mood. But, then, ahroun. Who knows.

Rogue tilts her head back—and back—as Moros approaches. Her nose is still working, but her ears push forward. There's a sense of questioning about her, if nothing else.

While Keir won't be aware of it, there's a bit of a surprised look on Dag's face. She pats his shoulder a few times. "All right. Just holler if you change your mind. You up for pancakes, though?" As the floor creaks with Moros' movement, the Get glances over toward the giant and his movement toward the wolf. She speaks up, her tone a bit more solid, authoritative. "Go ahead and have a seat anywhere, you two." Spoken as an offer, but it's obvious from her tone that it's closer to a command. She doesn't wait for reactions as she moves back to the kitchen.

Sue looks over at Keir, and to Moros, and his attention settles on Keir. "Had a really, really weird dream, last night," the metis says, and there's that same unease and shakiness in it from earlier. His knees draw to his chest. "Something with being on a swing in a huge tree, and for a moment it felt… I felt, normal. Whole."

Moros hunkers down next to Rogue, crouching in gargoyle fashion. He's about to say something when Dagny speaks, and he looks up, irritation clear on his face. And then Sue starts talking as well, and he tilts his head, frowning.

Rogue's questioning gives way to an ever so brief flicker of pleasure. Her tail gives an aborted wave, even. But then Sue speaks, and her head whips in his direction, her ears completely erect. Me. Me.

"The Lady graced you with her presence as well, hm," Keir replies, but there's a tilted value to his voice that suggests thoughtfulness and a hint of something that's not necessarily unsettled, but definitely discomfited. "…yeah," he replies belatedly to Dagny, the tone of voice similar.

The Get leans into the doorway, mixing pancake stuff in a giant bowl. Her expression is curious. "Wait. You had a weird ass dream, too?" The question is aimed to Keir, but she catches the communication from Rogue as well. "Arright, that's just fucked up. We need a Theurge, methinks. I dunno anyone but Ish who's all that spirity 'round here, so if anyone knows someone, speak up, cause this shit is reaching critical weirdness." A brief glance flicks to Moros again, and Dag looks past him to the wolf. "Yo, hair ball. C'mere and gimme a hand."

"Uh-huh," Sue responds to Keir. He's quiet a long moment, and then Sue settles into the armchair, not quite looking in the cub's direction to catch what she insists on. "I don't understand the dream, though. Not in the slightest."

Moros's expression darkens. He rises up from his crouch. "Not every dream needs to be understood," he says. "Not every dream can be understood. And not every dream has a meaning that's worth anything." The big man speaks slowly, his words heavy and deliberate.

Sue takes a breath in and nods. "Yes, Moros," he acknowledges.

Rogue shifts her attention to Dagny, and stares blankly at her. Wolf form betrays her; there's stubbornness there, far more than confusion.

"The every day ones, no. The ones that are… deliberate," Keir replies, with a tilt of his head, "…sometimes." He huffs out a breath, and says, to Moros: "Don't think I've heard your voice before. Keir, Sightless-Faith. Full moon and ranked twice under Chimera." And, to Dagny, "What was yours?"

Moros shrugs massive shoulders at Keir's answer and introduces himself in reply to the Stargazer. "Moros, called Bad Moon Rising. Metis Ahroun of the Black Furies."

"You wanna eat, you help. Otherwise, no pancakes for you, cubby." Dag says simply in response to Rogue's stubborn behaviour. She shifts her attention to Moros a moment and clears her throat. "I generally agree with you, but when he has the same dream as me," she indicates Sue, "And they show evidence of the Weaver, Wyld, and Wyrm wrapped all into the same dream, it sets off a few alarms." To Keir, she relays a brief synopsis. Something about a swing, a giant tree, and a metamorphosis of body and mind from young and healthy into dust and decay all in the space of a single sweep of the swing. "There was also a girl with silver hair. She said something… Memory gets a bit fuzzy on that part, but it was something like… No wrong or right, only dark and bright. No winning or losing, something about choice." She waves a hand at nothing, wrinkling her nose at herself. "Devon had a weird dream about a woman in orange and black holding a baby, or something. That's all I got out of him before he left the meadow."

There's the sense that Rogue doesn't so much shift as claw her way back to homid, with considerable effort. She crosses her arms over her chest and fairly glares in Dagny's direction, but there's no motion from her to get up and help at all. Her short hair is decidedly unruly—all sticking out on one side.

Sue looks over at Dagny. "If you need help, I can help with things, Dagny-rhya," Sue says, starting to swing his legs over the edge of the chair in preparation to possibly get up. Or to possibly be in a less awkward and tense part of the house. Ex gets a glance, brows raised.

"Her name is Rogue." This comes from Moros, who's still standing next to the skinny cub, though not touching her. Still, there's a definite sense of protectiveness surrounding the greasy-haired, red-eyed monster. "Or Ex. Not cubby."

"Metis as well," the ahroun echoes to Moros, almost as an afterthought. "—good t'meet you." He listens for a moment, a frown lingering on the blind Gazer's features, pointedly ignoring the tension regarding the cub. "Yeah," he answers vaguely to something Dagny says, lapsing into thought and remaining silent for a moment.

"Appreciated, Sue, but today is not your day." Dag says gently. She continues to stir the mixture while looking at Rogue as she shifts up to homid. The crossed arms get a smirk and a laugh from the Get and she shrugs. She's about to duck back into the kitchen when Moros speaks up and the Get slides her glance over to him. A brow arches and she looks at him for a long moment, expression thoroughly 'You serious?'. After a moment, she sighs and shrugs again. "It's whatever. Either way, it sure ain't having pancakes." Dag moves to the stove, humming to herself.

Moros's head snaps up, oily tendrils of hair flying away from his brute's face. His eyes have widened, lip curling into a snarl; Dagny's response was, one might judge, the very worst thing she could have said. His watchful suspicion of the woman's dived right down into dislike, edging close to hate. Rage flares; it's fortunate that the moon is thin, but it still takes a moment before the monster is able to speak, and when he does, his voice is rough. "Fuck your pancakes." He shoots a disgusted look at Sue, then turns and walks out.

Sue brings his hand up to his face, and shakes his head. "I'll talk to him later," Sue decides. "Let him go." Attention turns to Ex. "Aside from that, how're you this morning Rogue?"

"Well," Keir says, not budging from the couch, though his head tilts a little bit towards Moros' exit. The top part of the hood of his hoodie overshadows the top half of his face. "He's pleasant." His words are not weighted to be on either side of judgmental, though there's a slight frown on his features.

At the shutting of the door, Dag pokes her head around the corner to catch Moros departing. A slow blink, and she shrugs. To Keir, the Get cackles. She watches with a bemused expression as Ex departs as well. "They must be french toast fans." She deduces, and begins whistling to herself in the kitchen. The tune is the same song that Keir had been listening to when she touched him.

Sue seems overall, unhappy with the way things turned. "Damn it," Sue says. "And I really did need to talk to him, too. But now wouldn't be the time anyway."

Keir listens to the bang of the door again, and huffs out a small breath. He stands and shoves his hood off—he's shaved his head down to about a sixth of an inch, and truthfully it looks better than it did when shaggier, not like he knows—and trundles toward the kitchen, using the wall to guide him until he finds the doorway, which he leeeeans on. "If you need help, I'm always here," he asks Dag with a sudden grin that's almost mischieviously malicious in what his 'help' in the kitchen may promise, but it fades an instant later. "I had the dream too. About the baby." That's sudden and directed seemingly toward them both. "And. Fact: I want to get fucking plastered tonight, anyone have anything awakened?" These things altogether don't seem to be very related. Such is his brain tonight.

The Get makes an amused hnn sound and gently touches, and pats, the Gazer's cheek. "I know both of you would be willing to help. I was sizing the cub up from my own perspective, else I would have accepted Sue's offer." The Get's hand slides free from the Gazer's cheek. The sound of batter sizzling on a skillet fills the air as Keir talks about his dream. "Seriously, someone remind me to call a Theurge, cause this is gonna bug me. As for plastered, if you don't mind company, I got my mead a month ago. I have three barrels of awakened mead. I could go for a bender. Maybe the three of us, eh?"

Sue does get up, coming to the kitchen and immediately sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. "Sounds like a good idea. As for Ex…" Sue shakes his head. "The cub has her own issues, and still needs distance." There's a very tight and controlled tension in Sue's voice, there, anger and resentment warring with understanding and sympathy. The anger's winning. "Could use getting plastered enough to forget the flashbacks. I really need to learn Awakening."

Keir only grins at Dag again. His cheek is kinda rough. He's gone a few days without shaving (he probably last did his head in the same batch, really). "Fine with me. I need to learn it too. And. As for the dreams? The Lady has her own way of talking. Sometimes there are many interpretations for each person. Mine: the wasp-mother's protecting her children. Her child is small. Defenseless." He tilts his head. "Yours, Sue. Up in a tree. A place of sight and safety. You've grown whole. I had sight, in my dream. Growth. Regrowth. And yours," he says, to Dag, "Dark, light, right, wrong, choices. Decay. Growth. The Lady has us face a path, but the path is ours to choose." The ahroun grips the doorframe hard, the rings on his fingers clicking against the wood. And then he gives his head a quick, small shake, and resumes a grin. "Booze. Also pancakes. Also, yes, Ex is fucked up. Was that her here? I didn't know."

Sue nods. "That was Ex, here, yeah. She… left to go after Moros. Probably better right now," Sue says. The words are smaller, uncertain.

"I had the wholeness part to my dream, also. At the beginning of the swing, I had a twenty foot neck and crab claws. Near the middle of the swing, I was whole, unscarred, and my skin was shimmering blue. Dunno what the significance of THAT is, but it was kinda neat." The last of the batter sizzles and Dag's already making a few plates up. She sets butter and syrup on the table, takes Keir's elbow and nudges him toward a chair. At Sue, Dag waggles her brows. "Got any insight into his reaction? Was that a tribemate protection thing, or what?"

"Evolution," Keir replies, plunking down into the seat he's directed to. His hand finds the butter and syrup, fingers checking over each to affirm what they are and where. "Wrongness to rightness."

Sue frowns a little, drums his fingers on the table. "Only a little. Some of it was regarding Ex, some of it… Some of it— my brother has been through his own trials for what we are, but," Sue says, pausing a long moment. "Some of it's something else, something you did that made him angry and probably reminded him of people like April and the sort of Garou that… I don't know, and it's not my place to say further." There's definite discontent for a moment in Sue's voice.

"That makes sense." Dag chews over what Keir said mentally for a moment, then looks to Sue. There's a gently exasperated sigh for the Fury and she chuckles. "Cash, you're in a safe place with two people who have probably heard it all. You can say what you want without worrying about it going past this table. Venting is venting." She sets two plates chock full of fluffy, warm pancakes down in front of each of them, holding a fork out for Sue and pressing another into Keir's hand directly. "If your tribemate doesn't like how I conduct my business, that's his problem. If cubs are gonna come to Edgewood, they gotta follow some rules." After scooping the last pancakes of the skillet, she sits down to join them with her own plate. She sighs slightly, leaning back in her chair. "Keir. You're an ahroun. How are you so Theurgey?"

"Hi," Keir says, taking the fork and twirling it deftly around his fingers before pointing one end vaguely in the direction of himself, "Stargazer. Our business is dreams. Chimera. Lady of the Mirrors." And, he drags over the syrup. Butter, it appears, is too much work.

Sue takes the fork and grins, turning it in his hand, and shakes his head at Dagny. "Thanks, Dag… no. It's okay. I don't need to be angry right now, so I'm not going to think about it. And yeah. Ex needs to follow a lot of rules, but hopefully… it'll get there." The anger is there in his voice, unbidden and unasked for, and he sets the fork down on the plate, still in his hand, to take several deep breaths.

Dagny says, around a mouthful of plain pancake, "I know jack all about Gazers." She snags the butter and uses it liberally, sniffing at a piece of pancake after the butter sinks in. "I've met a few of you and each of you is weirder than the last. Which is cool, don't get me wrong. As far as weird goes, I'm right up there, I'll admit." Her attention turns to Sue and the Get sobers quietly. With a sigh, she shakes her head and plants her hand over his wrist. "Purple monkey accordion tap dance." Deadpan, straightfaced.

"We're all weird," Keir says with a satisfaction that is very deep-seated. He dumps a liberal amount of syrup on there, cuts off a piece of pancake, and takes the first bite. Chew, swallow, and, apropos of nothing and said completely sober-faced before tucking in to the rest, "Oh man, I think I've just had an orgasm in my mouth." A beat, and he adds, "In b'fore 'that's what she said'." And, resume eating. That is, apparently, his way of a compliment.

The Fury's look of surprise and then outright shock at first Dagny and then Keir's words gives way to relaxing, and he moves, a reassuring touch in response to Dagny's words. Then Sue more properly picks up his fork, grabs the syrup, and digs into his pancakes. "Mmm," he agrees. Nonetheless, Keir's on the receiving end of a 'what the fuck' sort of look from the young metis.

Dagny is slightly distracted with what she's doing, but not so much that she misses what the Gazer says. She joins the metis in a brief 'wtf' stare but then smirks. The mirth in her tone is evident and Sue will spot the devilish grin on her face. "What makes you think you didn't?" The question is aimed at Keir.

Keir obviously misses Sue's stare, but Dag's reply is met first with a wry tug of amusement at one corner of his mouth, but he just continues eating. "Do you really want me to answer that? I'm just gonna go with 'these are damn good pancakes, thank you Dagny.'"

The Get catches that tug and it turns her expression from amused to down right smug. "Perhaps not in front of polite company, but later when you're sauced, I might ask." That seems to be that for THAT line of thinking, however, as the Get shovels some pancake into her mouth. She pats Sue's arm gently as he seems to be a bit more at ease and removes her hand, focusing on cramming breakfast into her maw. "You're welcome. I dunno how or when I got good at cooking breakfast, but there it is."

Keir looks entirely amused, but doesn't reply, at least to the first bit. "I suck at cooking breakfast. Or, well, cooking in general. So. Cooked foods? A-plus."

Sue grins. "I'm a klutz in the kitchen," Sue says. "Drop stuff, et cetera. Wasn't… exactly someone anyone ever taught me to do, or anything. I manage toast and simple stuff okay. But really, this is awesome." The Fury turns his attention back on the food with a grin.

Dagny glances sidelong at Keir. "I could help you learn how to cook a few things. You'd be able to do them entirely by feel and smell. If that's something you'd be interested in at all." Sue gets a nod and, "Same goes for you. I enjoy teaching people shit, and cooking is fun for everyone, damnit." Lifting her plate, the Get displays her horrid table manners by literally shoveling the rest of her pancakes into her mouth. Setting the now-empty plate down she leans back and yawn-burps. "Keir. What do your Chimera-senses say about the dreams and the fact that several people have shared similar dreams in the same night?"

"Sure," the ahroun says. "Just probably not on a full moon. Uh." He finishes off the plate, and considers. "That Chimera is trying to tell us something. Or one of her incarnae is. One dream by one person can be left up to interpretation. But people don't have the same dreams just by chance. THe probability is … infinitesimal." Yes, he really did just say that. He idly clinks one of the rings on his thumb against the plate as he thinks. "All on the same night could mean many things. Either she has just learned them, or decided that we were ready for them now. Or maybe it's something that's urgent."

Sue turns to listen to Keir, and nods, working steadily on his pancakes until his plate is empty. "I heard that a bunch of people had dreams, a few weeks or a month before I got here the first time. I wonder how many people did this time?" The Fury shrugs. "Not that I'm going to go back over to the Fury house and ask."

"There are enough folks that had them that I think it'd prolly be a good idea to talk to spirity folk about. I dunno much about dreams, but…" She shrugs. "Personally, I don't know who to talk to about this. Suggestions?" Dag glances between the two of them. "I've kinda been holed up the last few months."

"Not April," Sue says. Once again, his voice is fairly suddenly tense.

"Why?" Keir asks, quizzical. And, to the rest, he ponders. "Norman is very good, I've heard. I haven't had many dealings with the theurges around here, though." He pauses and frowns. "I would say the Uktena, too. Silvertip. But talking to him is kinda like talking to a wolverine who you aren't sure is gonna attack your face or not."

Sue swallows, and shakes his head at Keir. "April won't give anyone who's male the time of day, for one. And my aunt can be…" voice trails off with tension again, Sue's fork clattering against the table.

"Ah," Keir says, flatly. "I see." He frowns a tad, starts to say something likely flippant, stops, and instead fiddles with his fork. "Black Furies have… ah. They often have viewpoints on gender I don't understand. But. I also didn't grow up in human society. And I'm an equal opportunist in, ah, most walks of life, so." Pause. "It's interesting to hear about. To think about, in ways. It's just not something I -understand-."

Sue snorts quietly. "I never claimed to understand the views my tribesisters have," the younger metis says. "Just that they often have them." Bitterness tinges his voice for a moment, then he shakes his head, and he reaches out to touch Dagny's hand briefly, reassurance. "What I know is that they lose track of what they're fighting for, and in their anger focus too much on what they have decided to fight against, inasmuch and let that goad them into doing their own injustices." Definite bitterness.

"Well. Just don't let that cloud you into thinking all of them think a certain way. That's just as bad." Keir pauses a moment, and says, "I'm gonna run upstairs and get some shit together before we go out for booze. I'll be back in a few." He gets up, finds the top of Dag's head with rather remarkable precision, ruffles her hair a bit with a quick grin, and retreats upstairs before the indignancy starts.