19/01/2006
12:28 PM
Logfile from Garou.
Desiree is sitting up to one side of the longhouse, not to distrub the others as she quietly works on her so-called 'duties'. There is not much else that the pregnant woman can do at this time except make an excess amount of clothing and blankets to be, hopefully be given has gifts when the next potlash comes around.
The new cub 'round the lake has been avoiding the longhouse since the moon first got large. The only sign of her Desiree may have encountered was the occasional glimpse of the new girl singing and dancing around the lake. Now, she pokes her head into the longhouse, takes a quick glance around and steps inside. She takes a second look, and stops a few strides in, blinking in surprise at Desiree. "Oh...I'm...um...I'm sorry. I thought," she stammers.
Desiree raises her eyebrow, looking oddly up at the young girl. "You can come in," she replies. "Provided that you control your temper and all that." The kinswoman gives a shy smile, appearing to be friendly, and motherly look about her.
Veronica chews her lip. "I'm okay. I promise. I won't hurt you. I haven't hurt anybody yet." She still gives the kinswoman a wide berth, as though she's not sure of her statement. "I'm Veronica. Ingtaq Cetaaq, Galliard cub of the Wendigo. I don't know if they told you about me. You're the kinfolk, right? Or...a kinfolk?"
This woman's Native American heritage is fairly unmistakable. She is short, a breath above five feet tall. Her body is curvaceous and physically fit, showing mostly all musculature that is absent of much fat. Dark, straight hair falls to her shoulders, often pulled up from her shoulders in a ponytail. Her high cheekbones rest below almond-shaped, amber-brown irises with a well-defined nose set between. She wears loose fitting deerskin pants that wrap around her currently pregnant stomach. On her upper torso is a long-sleeve shirt with a warm deerskin jacket. She also commonly wears a cowboy hat and moccasins on her feet.
Desiree waves the Galliard over with her hands, not too shy around the cub. She has been around a few before although probably not while pregnant. "Come, sit." she says. "I think I have some stew left if you would like some. And, yes, I am a kinfolk. There is another named Jordan but she hangs around with the Uktena, Keeps-the-Circle all too often so I never see her. I am Desiree Skywatcher, kin to my father, Micah Crash-of-Thunder Keller Adren Ahroun, my brother, Fierce-Badger Keller Cliath Ahroun, and my husband Michael Kills-Wisely Peters... who you might have already met."
Veronica licks her lips again, and takes a few steps closer. "I'll have some stew, please. I came in to get some food anyway." When the kinswoman rattles off her lineage, the cub looks rightly impressed, her expression tinged with a bit of regret. "I haven't met your husband yet. I've been in the woods a lot. White fur..." She stops, shakes her head. "I only see Jacinta very much. Otherwise I've met Cries-No-More, Wadiskay, and Circle-Keeper. Sorry." She sits, cross-legged, at a 'safe' distance.
The kin dishes out a hearty looking stew, pouring it in a rather primative bowl and lifts it for the cub to take from her hands. "Having a linage I has is important, but my family has only warriors. There is nothing more than boasting your linage more than warriors but I do take a lot of pride upon my grandfather, Matthew Stonefish, he was a great storyteller on the reservation, I learned from him." Then she adds, "Perhaps you will be able to meet my husband soon enough. He runs with urrah and is not around all too often sometimes." Desiree scowls a bit but she appears to do her best at following her husband's wishes.
Veronica takes the stew bowl in both hands, every bit careful. Then she nearly drops it when Desiree says the word 'storyteller'. "What kind of stories do you tell? And what are urrah? Something bad, or different? I've never heard the word before. Is it like wasichu or moon calf?" She sets the bowl in her lap, picking out something at random and popping it in her mouth. "I've never met a real storyteller before...or a real...anything." Her enthusiasm flags for a moment.
Desiree cringes as Veronica nearly drops the bowl, although recoverd quickly. "The ones past down to me from my gransfather and his grandfather," she answers. "Urrah means those who live in the city. We are the only Pure Ones left, the only tribe that is of our own blood, but we accept the Uktena as our brothers and sisters." She pauses for a moment, "You remember reading about the Europeans in school? How they had done so many evils to our people? Well, for the Garou it was worse. I will tell you one thing, you can be nice to the white-man, but never trust one, not even in this sept."
Veronica frowns and looks into the bowl, picking out a piece of meat. "I went to a white school. Private school. We didn't learn...um...anything. I mean, we learned about it, but...not like that. I thought...I um..." Shame colors her features darker. "I thought it was all the indians fault what happened. So...I'm still kind of learning about how bad things were."
"Indians fault?" Desiree asks, frowning. Her tone remains plain and unemotional as she speaks. "You will have a lot to learn here," she says, quickly changing the topic for now.
Veronica eats more, trying to cover her embarrassment. "I'm learning a lot already. I know the Laws now, and the tribes, and the moons, and all of that. I just...the history stuff's hard. I didn't pay a lot of attention at school. Just enough to get through the tests. Dad wanted me to be a lawyer." She brings the bowl to her mouth and tips it, pouring some stew down her throat.
"Jacinta is a good teacher, listen closely to what she teaches you." Desiree says. "Listen to Touch Deer, but you will have to listen and sort out what is useful and what is not. He, although he is the Alpha of the Sept, has grown soft for white-man's way of doing things."
"He taught me the Laws," the cub says, her eyes widening. "Is there a way to teach them wrong? He didn't say anything about white people. Should I ask Jacinta to teach me again? I don't want to get this wrong." She finishes the stew and sets the bowl down carefully. "She taught me everything else, and I think I'm doing pretty good. I just don't want to get the Laws wrong."
Desiree nods her head and seems to grow suddenly quiet as she turns back to her work.
Veronica takes this to mean the conversation's closed, and gives a thankful nod to the kinswoman for the stew. She gets up and goes to the door, depositing her MP3 player in her purse on the way out.
The sky is dusting snow again, snow blowing off from either of the ridges that flank the high valley, the breezes down the slopes causing the water in the lake to churn readily. Circle Keeper's just woke himself up, the white wolf rising with a giant shake to dislodge any and all snow that's gathered on his coat while dozing. Once again by the Maqii, where he's often wont to sleep, he stretches out slowly, jaws opening wide in a comical yawn.
Veronica steps out of the longhouse, making sure the entry is secure, and immediately stretches herself into crinos. The pup's movements are hesitant and wobbly as she gains her balance, then turns back and forth, trying to decide where to go. Naturally, that scan finds Circle Keeper, and the war-form cub hunches into a pose of submission immediately.
Circle Keeper's posture becomes alarmed, his tail rising up like a flag at morning revaly. Terminating the stretch, he pops upright, and looks like he's ready to take a step back. What is cub doing? he all but barks?
Fledgling's claws scrape on the ground, then she tumbles onto her back. Immediately, she shifts back to homid, snaking an arm back into the longhouse and dragging out her jacket. "I'm supposed to be practising!" she yells back to him, whipping the jacket over her head in a series of panicked motions. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Circle Keeper's tail irks, lowering slightly from the 'Danger will Robinson!' position as he plods forward. The utkena's jaws crack open again, muzzle wrinkling up. Not practice war form by kin-place. He instructs her bluntly. He motions away from the Longhouse with his whole body.
Veronica huddles under the jacket, frozen for a moment. "Okay. Okay. In the woods? Yes?" Not bothering to grab the rest of her clothes, the teenager gets up off of the ground and starts towards the woods, moving in a kind of awkward crouch. "Sorry!"
Circle Keeper indicates a flat negitive, plodding to the half-naked cub without even the slightest sign anything is out of place. Can pratice near lake. Not at hole into kin-place.
Veronica changes direction, then, walking towards the lake, still trying to cover as much of her body as possible with the jacket. Aware that her feet are freezing, she looks back at the longhouse, trying to guage if she's far enough away yet. "Can I Change yet?" she asks the Uktena, her teeth starting to chatter.
Circle Keeper's head slowly pivots along, watching the cub move away from the longhouse. He doesn't answer the question right away, waiting a few moments before he gives the cub an affirmative.
As soon as there's a 'yes', Veronica whips off the jacket and pushes herself to shift, whining as she reaches crinos. Her previously freezing feet get shaken out as she tries to get rid of the snow. Her head bobs a lupine thanks to Circle Keeper, then she pushes herself erect again.
Circle Keeper finds something amusing, tail sweeping out behind him steadily as his jaws hang further open, and tongue hangs out. The white wolf plods a metre or two towards the cub, sniffing a few times as he goes.
Fledgling wobbles, trying to find her balance as she ducks her head. "Hrrrm?" she rumbles, her tail waving hesitantly as she tips to and fro, her arms going wide. For the moment, she resembles nothing more than a classic werewolf action figure, stiffly menacing...something. The only difference is that she looks bewildered, rather than angry.
Circle Keeper takes a moment to pick up on the cub's vocal interrogative, licking at his teeth repeatedly like he had something stuck in them (which he doesn't). When he does seem to realize, he cranes his head far back, looking up at the top of the cub: Cub did not want to be uncovered on two legs, but is on two legs now and is uncovered.
The crinos' golden eyes widen, and her tail curls between her legs. Her jaws open and close, then her paws flex. ~Fur~, she manages to rumble, surprised at how easily the word comes to her. She crouches, to better steady herself, and makes an attempt to cover her groin. Nothing to see, she says in over-growled wolf speech.
Doesn't cover, Circle Keeper responds, no less amused. Lowering down onto his side, he rolls onto his back as if demonstrating you can, in fact, see things. Exhibitionist.
Fledgling's mouth hangs open in shock at the elder. She closes her eyes firmly and snorts. Circle Keeper shouldn't look, she retorts after she 'recovers', changing the way she's crouching so all he gets is a side view of her leg.
Circle Keeper rolls back onto his stomach, and slowly presses back to his feet, posture not quite so amused anymore. Thinks like Ape, he comments dryly.
Fledgling's head ducks, but her eyes open to follow him. Born from ape, she replies, tail flipping back and forth. Think like, act like ape.
Circle Keeper's head shakes roughly, jaws opening wind and closing a few times as if giving the muscles there a good work out. Sniffing a few times, he plods closer to the cub slowly. Does cub remember things she did not do, sometimes? he asks slowly, almost cautiously.
Fledgling's lips twitch as he comes nearer, but her head goes lower nevertheless. Things from before-cub? she cautiously asks. Her nose works as the other approaches, and the claws dig into the ground, keeping her steady. Wind or no wind, she's still wobbly.
Memories of things you did not do, ever. He answers succinctly, posture easing slightly.
Yes, she replies curtly, the unfamiliar body language turning it into a snap. Sometimes. Dancing. The cub blinks, feeling the rage of the form she wears abate slightly as Circle Keeper gets nearer. Not many memories. Some.
Circle Keeper slows and stops, the uktena suddenly right back to being cautious. Cub should make a comfortable shape, he instructs all too seriously.
Fledgling licks her teeth, then drops to wolf-form, correcting her posture quickly. This form better. Know more, speak better, no growl, she says, tail waving. Practise more warform later. This one sorry. Brother was asking things.
Circle Keeper dismisses it with a slight shake, the Uktena shifting his weight around between hs feet. Cub should head-think to when she is dancing. he tells her seriously. Head-think very hard about it.
Fledgling lowers her head and shuts her eyes obediently, trying to dredge up the 'memory'. Sleep-think about dancing, she explains, her body language muted as the recollection starts to come to her.
Not-tell, he replies sharply, with a vocal note so the normal silent lupus communication isn't lost. Circle Keeper leans forward, squinting tightly at the cub. Head-think it very, very hard.
Fledgling opens her eyes at the elder's tone, then huddles low. Her breathing starts to come more evenly as she puts herself into the right frame of mind. The fragmented memories of the past flow nonsensically to the cub, and she whines softly as they refuse to come into focus.
Circle Keeper remains patient, or at least as patient as an Ahroun can be said to be. The wolf keeps watching the cub sharply, sniffing every now and again as if olfactory information would somehow cast increased light over everything for him.
This one remembers little of much, Fledgling eventually says. Apes. White apes. Wolves. Wolf-changers. Dancing. Singing. Howling. Small things. Old things. She lowers her ears and tucks her tail, aware that she's being disappointing.
Circle Keeper, perhaps surprisingly, remains patient, or maybe stubborn. He watches Veronica closely, through all this, affirming the statements with a silent flick of an ear. Methodically, he asks does cub know who she is when she is dancing?
Male, she answers quickly. Young. Wolf-changer. Good at dancing. Fast, jump high, play, sing. The cub's tail wags at the last few words. Same moon as this one.
Circle Keeper seems somewhat pleased, the Uktena shifting his weight around from foot to foot as he wuffs mutedly. Should not think hard of memories when cub is alone, he states rather seriously. Cub understands this?
Fledgling chuffs. Yes. Might have warrior-memories, not just dancer-memories, she queries. Not want to hurt kin woman. This one understands.
Circle Keeper's head tosses slightly, tipping to one side afterwards as he responds with an emphatic 'no.' If she calls on ancestors, and makes mistake, she will start thinking she is ancestors, or will go into bad sleep. He waits a few moments, before adding, happening is very bad.
Fledgling's tail flies happily all of a sudden. Ancestors? Ancestors are dancing-memories? This one has ancestors of Wendigo? Will not call on alone. This one good. Will not get ancestors alone. This one promises, cub respectful, cub honor ancestors.
Circle Keeper indicates a flat yes. Many skin changes remember ancestors memories, or are ancestors who are born again. He trods right up to the cub, closing the gap as he sniff-sniffs activly.
Fledgling stands still, letting him sniff. This one will be good. Respectful. This one will be good.
Circle Keeper licks his nose when he finishes, turning to start trotting away at a descent pace. He stops about half way, turning back to the Cub as he adds: Cub should practice moving in war form.
Fledgling chuffs, then backs away. This one will practice. Get better. Told Pierces Ice this one will dance in war form. With that quirky little announcement, the pup jogs off in a different direction, not shifting until she's out of sight.
Circle Keeper turns and resumes his trek down the valley, eventually back out into the bawn.
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