16/02/2006
Big Red Barn(#3420RA)
The barn is built in the old style, a vast three level structure that is greater in height than a mere three stories, actually closer to five. Great wooden posts support the weight of the upper levels and roof, sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor of the first level like a sparse forest of regularly spaced, naked trees. The stalls and flagstones which once were here have been torn out to leave a rather open area where even crinos Garou may roam freely without fear of running into anything but the supports or the walls or the ladder at the back which allows access to the other two levels.
The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.
Normally so relaxed and calm, the full moon and nerves are doing their work on Veronica. As the afternoon wears on, she takes refuge in the barn. With great grace and care, she works through the form her elder has taught her. Her jitteriness betrays itself, and she finds herself having to stop. The floor is kicked.
The barn door slides open as Emma steps in, pausing briefly to eye the inhabitant of the barn. A faint nod is given to the cub as she moves toward the heavy bag. "I'll be using the bag for a while."
5'2" of youthful energy packed up into a body all too willing to use it. Emma would be described as pretty if she were cleaned up and dressed the role, but all too often the scrapping tomboy paints herself with bruises instead of blush.
Somewhere in her mid-teens, her features are strong but decidedly feminine. High cheekbones and full lips work well to compliment her almost button nose and deepset eyes, while dark, ash blonde hair frames her face. While not straight, it is not curly either, and untied it reaches down past her shoulders. Her eyes are a cool blue, reminiscent of a bright summer day - but like the weather they seem to hold an amount of unpredictability. There is a hardness to her gaze, and while her smiles can be warm and sincere, they are well guarded.
Her posture is an odd mix of insecurity and confidence -or at least what might be confused as confidence. She seems surefooted and comfortable with herself, but exudes a certain edginess to those she might see as a source of ridicule.
Veronica scuffs her foot on the floor, then takes a couple of steps back. "Okay," she says, the newcomer getting a very thorough look over. The Wendigo cub's eyes particularily catch on Emma's hair and her eyes. The somewhat surly, edgy look of the Galliard fades back, and she draws herself up. "Do you have some time, elder?" she asks, suddenly much more formal.
"Time for what cub?" she asks, rolling back her sleeves and steadying the heavy bag. Her fists ball up and the Ahroun sends a hard hook into the canvas. Then Emma turns to the Wendigo, waiting for the answer.
Veronica's eyes widen, just a bit. "I need to learn something from someone not of my tribe," she says carefully, trying to manage an even split between pride and deference to the elder in front of her. "The words of honor, glory and wisdom."
"Why from someone not in your tribe?" Emma looks back with scrutiny before focusing on the bag with another set of punches.
The cub watches the Fenrir shoot punch after punch into the bag. She manages to not look too insecure when next she's looked over. "Jacinta-rhya is testing me, to see if I am ready to leave the Lake and walk the bawn freely. I am...alright with Older Brother Uktena's children." Veronica's expression says a little more, something along the lines of 'they've stopped attacking me on sight'. "I must be able to be nice to the other tribes, and to be respectful of them. I think that's why she left me here."
Emma gives a heh, "You pissing off the wrong people then?" The last hit to the bag comes by means of a firm elbow. "So what, you get someone to tell you the words of the creed and that's it, you tottle off back to the Wendigo. Task completed?"
Veronica's cheeks darken. "I have been a good Wendigo cub. I have learned most of what I am supposed to know, even the things I didn't want to learn. But I am also a Galliard, and there are none in the tribe. There are no Uktena Galliards. I will have to learn from someone," she says, watching the bag rock. "I don't know what I have to do after I know the creeds."
"Do you know who I am cub?" she asks of the Wendigo. "I am a Modi of the Fenrir. I am no Galliard. Why would you think a damn, hot-headed Ahroun would be a good choice to tell you of the creeds?"
Veronica closes her eyes and ducks her head. "Because everyone who is an adult Garou, a Cliath, they're supposed to know the creeds. Even Ahrouns. Because we're all supposed to follow them...right?" She opens her eyes again.
Emma grunts, "I know the creeds cub." The last word spit out with emphasis. "I will tell them once to you. No frills." She snorts, "I'd not want to get bitched at for imposing Get views on one such as yourself. The creeds of glory are, I shall be valorous, I shall be dependable, I shall be generous, I shall protect the weak, I shall slay the Wyrm."
Veronica mouths the words to herself as Emma speaks, committing them to memory by way of lip-sync. That aside, she stays exactly where she is. She is quiet, she is respectful, and she is attentive. Not even a sneer at the word 'Get'.
Emma eyes the young Galliard, the heaviness of the moon weighing on her. "I shall be respectful," here she pauses, heavy eyed at the cub. "I shall be loyal, I shall be just, I shall live by my word, I shall accept all fair challanges."
The lips move, the cub doesn't. Only her eyes follow Emma, dropping when the Ahroun puts extra emphasis on the first words of the Honor Creed.
"And the words of Wisdom are, I shall be calm, I shall be prudent, I shall be temperate, I shall be merciful, I shall think before I act and listen before I think." As Emma relays the words of wisdom, her tone softens slightly and a moment of retrospect seems to haunt her gaze. When she returns her focus on the cub, she gives a simple, "Repeat them back to me."
Veronica raises her chin again, and straightens her back. When she speaks, it's not in the near-begging, submissive voice she had before, but in her...performing voice, for lack of a better word. Her tone is smooth, the words sound measured, and there's a certain heartbeat-cadence there. "Glory. I shall be valorous, I shall be dependable, I shall be generous, I shall protect the weak, I shall slay the Wyrm. Honor. I shall be respectful, I shall be loyal, I shall be just, I shall live by my word, I shall accept all fair challenges. Wisdom. I shall be calm, I shall be prudent, I shall be temperate, I shall be merciful, I shall think before I act and listen before I think."
Emma gives a faint nod. "Congrats. Now, don't fuck that up later - or I'm gonna be pissed that you made *me* look bad with not knowing it." She turns back to the bag and starts kicking it.
Veronica's brief moment of pride fades, and she gives a quick bob of her head. "I'm Ingtaq Cetaaq, Fledgling Little-Bird, Galliard cub of the Wendigo," she says as she steps towards the door. "My other name is Veronica. Who are you, so if my elders ask my teacher's name, I'll know?" She hunches her shoulders, her head going even lower.
Emma gives the cub a look, "Emma Mahler, called Stone-Spirit. Cliath Modi of the Fenrir, and alpha of Havoc under Wolverine." She takes in a deep breath and then nods, growing silent after that.
Veronica tenses at the deep breath, as though she's expecting something to come flying at her head. "Quyana, Emma-rhya. Your wisdom is appreciated," the cub says, taking another step towards the door. "I won't disturb your practice any more."
Emma lets slip a small snarl. "Address me in my own damn language cub."
Veronica freezes where she is, her breathing hitching. "Quyana means thank you, Emma-rhya. Thank you for your wisdom," she says softly, as though trying to calm the Get by tone alone. "I'm sorry for not speaking right."
Emma growls slightly, "Right is irrelevant. What is right to you is not right to me." She turns on the cub then, tense and rigid. "But speaking so that your words are not misunderstood- speaking so your meaning is not confused, is common respect." She waves a hand, "Forget it," then turns back to the bag, unleashing another series of attacks upon it.
"I am sorry, Emma-rhya," Veronica says again, her feet carrying her back towards the door. "Goodbye." Having wised up, the cub then turns and runs, not waiting for a returned salutation.
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