02/03/2006
By the Waterfall
The ever-so-slightly warmer weather finds Veronica at the waterfall. Her proper circle finished, she's letting herself 'veg out' and watch the spill of the water. Her expression is soft and content, mainly focused on the ripples that bounce around in front of her.
Flute-case in hand, Kaz limps down the path, looking energetically cheerful. She's humming "If I Had A Milion Dollars" rather loudly, although to her credit she cuts the noise off once she sees someone's there. "Hey," she calls, softly.
Veronica's head bobs, then turns. The cub searches for the source of the voice, twisting her body all the way around. "Oh. Hello," she calls back, flashing a smile. "Is something important supposed to be happening here? I can move."
Kaz shakes her head, as she limps closer. "Nah, I was just thinkin' about playin' for th' place, but that can happen anytime. What's up with you?"
Veronica licks her lips and gets to her feet. She gives a hasty bow. "I'm just watching," she says, before dropping her eyes a bit. "I'm Veronica, Ingtaq Cetaaq. Wendigo Galliard cub," she adds in a rush.
Kaz brightens. "Oh! Dude. Jacinta wanted me t'talk t'you. I was kinda realizing that'd be hard 'cause I didn't get a good look at you at Moot, but, like, cool." After a moment, she adds, "Oh, I'm Kaz. Ears, t'Garou. Bone Gnawer Galliard, an' metis. I got Fostern at this Sept, an' me and my pack helped take it back. Half of 'em died in the process, so it got kinda depressin' for awhile an' I left, but now I'm back. An' there ain't no reason to bow t'me, I'm just this Gnawer, y'know?"
Veronica's smile returns full force, and she scuffs her feet on the ground. "You're Kaz!" She fixes herself up quickly, one hand swatting at her shirt to make sure it's in place, the other fixing the location of her braid. "I've been running around all day, and I don't look right to meet elders," she explains, still grinning. "It's an honor to meet you, Kaz-rhya. I've been really looking forward to it."
Kaz carefully puts her flute down. "Your're fine," she says, hair flopping scruffily into her face. "An' y'know, it's good to meet /you/, too. I don' usually get asked t'tell stuff t'/Wendigos/, so I been wonderin' how we'd cope with each other, an' all that."
The Wendigo cub is still beaming as she watches every move Kaz makes. "I'll be good," she promises immediately. "I will learn whatever you are willing to teach me. Quyana. Thank you. I have been getting along very well with the boys at the farmhouse, when I go there, and I listened to the Fianna's story at moot," she rambles.
Beautiful, this woman isn't. Most people wouldn't even call her interesting, although there is a spark of something, deep down in there. Even so, most people would call her homely, if they bothered to call her anything at all. She's about 5'6" tall, and burly. Not fat -- It's the kind of burly that's all muscle, just not well defined muscle.
Her hair is brown, distinctly curly, and in her eyes. Constantly. The part that's not in her eyes is about shoulder length. Her eyes are distinctly odd, although it's hard to tell, given how often she hides behind her hair. They're yellow, and look almost cat-like. The rest of her face isn't offensive, just boring. The nose is a bit big -- maybe it's been broken, or maybe she was just born that way. Her chin is broad, as are her cheekbones. Classic features for a man that don't at all work on her. There's a wry, half-cynical smile often playing about her lips that does very little to add to her general appearance. Makeup, it's clear, is of very little use to this person.
"Battered" would describe her choice of clothing quite well. Voluminous black wool coat, tired blue jeans, an oxford shirt hanging open, with a t-shirt underneath. Her sneakers are black, and she often has a black hat jammed over her head.
Kaz listens to this with a growing grin. "Yeah, given what Jacinta said, I'd expect you would be. But, like, calm down a little? I mean, hyper's just fine, it's just right now I just want to sit and grin and watch you talk, and that ain't real productive."
Veronica puts her fingertips to her lips, as though it takes that physical gesture to quiet her down. "I'm sorry," she says, that bubbly grin still there. "I just...y'know, I've so been looking forward to meeting you." She catches herself before she tangents again.
Kaz's own grin has faded to a smile, as she perches on a rock. "Yeah, an' other than me bein' Fostern, I really don' get why. I mean, I'm a fuckin' Bone Gnawer, an' all that."
Veronica blinks hugely. "You're a Galliard," she points out. "You know stories and songs and all sorts of things about this place." When Kaz finds a place to sit, Veronica finds a seat as well, dropping to her butt on a nearby rock. She brings one knee up to her chest and wraps her arms around it, completing the pose by resting her chin on that knee.
Kaz admits, "I do, yeah. Although I'm more of a gossip an' musical Galliard. But I /can/ tell you all kindsa shit about all kindsa people-- just in my own way, an' not in th' kinda dramatically approved style. 'Cuz if there's one thing I ain't, it's your standard Garou."
Veronica's beaming grin mellows, and she shrugs her shoulders at Kaz's disclaimer. "I think I'm a dancing Galliard. It's what I always want to do. But I sing, too." She watches the other, fingers pattering on her shin. "Mostly like...80's stuff," she adds after a moment's thought.
Kaz says, getting a Coke out of her coat pocket, "That's the thing. Galliards tell stories in five ziilion different ways. This is probably the most obvious statement ever, but you can tell damn good stories with dancin'. Specially if it's like, multi-media or whatever you call it. Dancing and song combined, to make a larger picture. I once did a Satire Rite that was all dancing, no words at all, and I asked people afterwards, and they didn't /need/ no words to explain nothin'." There's a short pause, while she opens the Coke and reviews her words, and then she asks, "D'you know what a Satire Rite's for?"
Excitement flashes over Veronica's face when Kaz affirms what she's hoped was true. Her questions are almost written in her eyes as Kaz talks about dancing and singing to tell stories and do Rites. When Kaz's question comes, the cub frowns, rubbing her mouth on her knee for a moment. "No...um...but it's something we do...so..." She furrows her brow. Her fingernails scratch on her jeans. "But it's a story, and a Rite. So it's something...important. Um. Stories are about people...and...so...it's a Rite we do, to tell a story about someone. A funny story," she amends in a puzzled tone.
Kaz says, "Yeah. It's actually kind of an aberration, but I wanted to explain it, since I'd mentioned it. It's a punishmnt Rite, for when people fuck up too badly. Th' Galliards an' the philos hook up together an', well, create a satire of whatever th' person did to screw up that much. It strips 'em of their rank, is the thing. With the one I was in charge of, th' dipshit had let th' Wyrm into th' Caern. He didn't /know/ it, an' once he found out, he fixed it. Even so, some Septs'd outright kill him f'that kinda shit, but this was a Sept of Coggies, an' he was overall a good guy, so they stripped him of rank and Ostracised him for awhile." She takes a swig of Coke. "We had like ten people workin' in concert on that one. I did th' singin', 'cause with my leg, I ain't much f'dancin'. We had t'do a buttload of rehearsal. /Most/ Rites we, as Galliards, do, aren't focused on punishment, and aren't quite that large-scale. But th' stuff where we're doin' a Rite of Accomplishment, spreadin' all the good shit people've done, /that/ can be a coordinated effort, too. An' it's damn fun when it is."
Veronica laughs. "You do that at a moot? Up in front of everyone?" She turns her head to give the rock outcropping a meaningful glance, then turns back to Kaz. "Both of them, like?" Her fingers continue to drum.
Kaz nods. "Yah. Hence, th' wantin' to rehearse. 'Cause that's... not a lot of people if you're thinkin' some big concert hall, but it's sure the fuck a lot of Garou."
Veronica shuffles around a bit on her rock seat. "So, do you get to tell whatever stories you want at the moot, or do you have to ask people about them first? Like, do you have to check with the Philodoxes if you're going to tell a bad story about someone? Or do you just not tell them at the moot, you wait for other times?"
Kaz says, producing a second Coke from her pocket and offering it to the teen, "That depends. Gen'rally, it's reserved for tellin' positive stories, of shit people've done. If you think it's incumbent on you to get out the news of some stupid shit some moron's done, it's certainly /possible/ to do it at Moot, an' it don' gotta go through the half moons, since it ain't no official punishment. You might could collaborate with a Ragabash, to get the true mockin' spirit out there. Or, you could just talk 'em down in normal everyday life. Spread what they did and how they did it. In y'own special kinda way."
Veronica gives the Coke a shifty look, as though she's not sure she should take it. Then she snakes out an arm and accepts the offered pop. "Okay. So...back at school...I was really good at like, talking people into trouble. Like, um...rumors and stuff. We do that too?"
Kaz says, "I'm kinda addicted t'Coke. If you don' think you oughta be havin' it, I can not offer you any, next time I bug you." She takes another swig, baring her teeth at the carbonation, and nods enthusiastically. "That's hittin' it right on the nail. It's sometimes an official kinda thing, and sometimes a non-official kinda thing, but yeah. We're the people spreadin' information and news and gossip and rumors, and there's times when I have deliberately not said somethin', or when I've talked shit up hugely, or... whatever, and guided how people was thinkin'. Some Galliards stick just to the music makin' part of things and don't wanna get this much into constructin' th' group consciousness, but in the absence of a popular media, we're the ones framin' people's perspectives, sometimes." She stops, taps the can thoughtfully, and adds, "Usually, I just say that we spread information in targetted ways. Sorry, don' mean to babble."
Veronica giggles, taking a drink of the Coke. "I just don't want t'get back into drinking this stuff all the time. It's not as good as the water out here, and at the lake," she says. "It's okay to babble. I'm supposed to know these things." She reaches back and bats at her braid absentmindedly. "So...how do you decide what to turn into a big story, and what to leave alone?"
Kaz shrugs. "Well. It depends. This may sound like a tangent, but do you know the Creeds?"
Veronica nods quickly. "I do. It was one of the things Jacinta-rhya made me learn by myself, before she let me go to be around the caern on my own. I learned them from Emma-rhya, the Get of Fenris." It sounds as though there were dragons fought and handsome princes rescued, too, by her enthusiastic, wondering tone.
Kaz's smile grows again, reflecting the cub's enthusiasm. "Yeah. Ok. Basically, /I/ make stories about good shit people do. Against the Wyrm, for the Caern, whatever. But I mean, I've had a long time t'figure out what's worth focusing on. Th; way I learned it first, essentially just for ease of narrowing things down t'work on, was to follow the Creeds. Did someone act in a p'ticularly glorious way? Did they righteously kick ass and take names on a Revel? Did they stick up for someone weaker'n them in a p'ticularly notable way? Have they been a dependable bunch of Guardians for a long time? That kinda shit." She crumples up the used can and sticks it in her pocket. "But also, just recent events, stuff people do in th' war against th' Wyrm. I'm gonna be tellin' how Aaron an' a bunch've other Bone Gnawers beat up a bane in the Umbra of a taco joint, because it was a coordinated effort an' Aaron got to beat a personal obsctacle when he figured out he can lead shit even when he can't talk real loud because of a new battle scar. That's current events, but I can also use it, later on, as a teaching story, f'people feelin' down an' out because of recent injury or self-esteem issues."
Veronica grins, shuffling around in her seat like a kid on a sugar high. Seeing as the can she's rapidly draining is the first Coke she's had in a week, that's not too far from the truth. "I did that, kinda, just the other day! Only without a story, because I don't know any of the ones about the Bison-pack yet. Stacey-rhya was feeling bad, because she wasn't sleeping well, and I reminded her of how good her pack is. I did impressions." The grin goes a little mischievous. "So, what kinds of stories are your favorite? Teaching stories, or history or what?"
Kaz points a finger at her. "Yeah, see, that kinda shit. It don't gotta be all heroic tales; it's what works /at the time/." At the question, she looks thoughtful for a moment. "Basically, I don't work so good unless I have a personal connection to something. So straight history, like of the Caern when it was a Wendigo Sept called th' Wheel, I'm not /as/ good at. Teaching stories, or stories about th' people an' things I /know/, those, I can do. An' th' kind that're my favorite... Well, anything where I can see I just made a direct difference t'someone. Anything where I can /tell/ I really called t'somethin' inside 'em, or helped 'em figure somethin' out about themselves."
Veronica rests her nose on her knee, her mouth hidden behind her leg. The smile, still visible in her eyes and cheeks, is pure glee. "So, when're you going to tell the story about Aaron? The moot, or just...whenever you get the chance? Do Galliards ever get together to just tell each other stories? Just because?"
Kaz says, "I'm figurin' on Moot for the whole shebang with fillips an' curlicues an' stuff. With th' 'Aaron ripped into the monster of ice and malice most fiercely indeed!' verbiage. But it's also gonna be just somethin' I tell t'random people at random times, when they got problems. And..." She trails off. "Galliards do got our own Moots, sometimes. Share new stories, new techniques, spread information... I /was/ lettin' Alicia do th' organizin', but she's gone now, so I should get one goin'. Maybe not f'this turnin' of th' moon, but th' next one... April."
Veronica's face pops up again. "I should learn a couple of stories before then, huh? So I can share stuff." She thinks, looking outwards past the elder. "Where are good places to look for stories? Big fights aren't all it, right?"
Kaz nods her head. "Nope. Big fights is some of it, but a theurge makin' an important connection to a spirit would do it, or th' tale of someone's journey to some weird shit Umbral Realm. A Ragabash pullin' a really good prank. Someone's personal quest t'redeem their honor." She shifts slightly on her stone. "Ask people f'things they think are important in their lives. Personal history. Ask people about why they came here, what made 'em stay. Ask people who was an important person in their life, and why. Ask 'em what their best pack was, what made it special. Put shit together from small details."
Veronica's fingers drum, and she studies the elder. "How much stuff can we make up? Lots? Or not very much? Do we have to tell stories the way they're told to us? I know I had to memorize the Laws the right way, with the right words and in the right order..."
Kaz says, "Pff. That's a half moon thing. They're more dedicated to... specifics. But y'know, there's Fianna an' Galliard versions of the Litany that's actually /beautiful/? We take it, expand it, make it into somethin' that sings..." She trails off. "Anyways. That's... a real personal thing. /I/ tend not to make up too much shit, because I think the heart of what matters is the reality of people's hearts an' actions. Which is why the historical shit don't touch me as much, because I can't feel that reality. But if you're tellin' a story you found out, like, years ago, an' none of the people involved in the story are there, or alive, or whatever, then fuck, go wild. Make up as much shit as you want.An' if you're tellin' a story about Coyote or Raven or whatever, that's relevant t'your people... Well, the rules is different there, an' you should find a Wendigo're Uktena t'tell you what /they/ think about /that/."
Veronica glances at the ground for a moment. "I feel the history. I'm not allowed to talk to them without an elder around, but the ancestors talk to me. I'm re-learning all kinds of stuff." She looks at Kaz again. "So...what do you think I should do? How do I learn my people's history, all the stories, without another Galliard to learn from? I think Jacinta-rhya wants me to learn from Horace-rhya, and they told me about this potlatch thing we do...but are there other ways? Do Galliards just learn stories about their own people?"
Kaz looks wistful. "Man. You got that direct-from-the-source knowledge in your head? That must be kinda freaky, but... shit, I wish I had that connection t'th' ancestors anyways." She looks down for a moment, then back up, shaking her head. "Nah. You don' gotta stick to stories of your own people at all. Th' more tribes an' cultures you can get stories from, th' better. I was just sayin', in th' cases where you wanna /tell/ stories of your specific nation, or of the Wendigo as a whole, I can't really tell you th', like, rules and regs on that stuff. It ain't my beat, so t'speak. But yah. Talk t'Horace, talk t'Jacinta, talk t'th' Yakima who hang out over on the Reservation, talk t'Reggie, if he's ever around... Just, soak shit up."
"There's a reservation here?" Veronica perks up, looking around as though expecting to see it out of nowhere. "I didn't know that...maybe if I pass my Rite of Passage I'll get to go visit." She smiles hopefully at Kaz. "So, will people be mad if I ask them for their stories now, while I'm a cub?"
Kaz says, vaguely, "Yeah, off east. Y'can ask Reggie more about it." She shrugs. "Often, they don' mind at all. Specially not if you're like, "Tell me a story!" but instead you're just askin' 'em shit about what matters to them. I mean, obviously, it matters when you ask-- if they're fucked up by the Moon, you might wanna get 'em when they're in a better mood. But gen'rally, if you ask right -- and I can just bet that you will, you got th' right kind've energy-- people're very willin' to talk."
"Cool. I've been wanting to ask people, I just don't want to step on toes and stuff." Veronica wriggles in place again, almost as though she's wagging her non-existant-at-the-moment tail. "I think I can get some interesting stories out of a few people. I made a few friends so far. Kin, even, have good stories, right?" She taps her foot on the ground, then bounces to her feet. "Maybe I can find Jordan before it gets too late. She sorta owes me something..." She looks off to the east, then back at the elder.
Kaz says, extremely firmly, "/Everyone/ has good stories. Kin, Garou, spirits, whoever." The metis grins, and makes a shooing motion. "G'wan, git. I'll catch you some other time, hey?"
"Yeah!" Veronica says, already laughing. She turns away and starts running, turning to shout a more proper "Goodbye, Kaz-rhya!" to the elder before she's gone in the woods.
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