a cherry on a steaming shit sundae.

Erich Reinhardt
[ok if i crash? erich needs a chat with the new fenrir alpha anyway!]
Hellforged
Augmund stepped out of his pickup truck. The thing had seen better years but appeared, like many old machines, to still be up to the task it was created for. There's a reason people held onto these things for as long as they did!
A pair of dusty leather boots settled on the ground and he glanced around, from left to right, and opted to leave his weapon behind for the moment. He was Fenrir but he was also a guest and he would not insult his hostess by bringing weapons into her home on a chance visit like this.
Augmund wasn't pretty by any stretch of the imagination. Though he was still young he wore upon his face the marks of a much older man. Years of war have already taken their toll upon his body and the markings of battle after battle have begun sinking into his very bones. He wore a stained, not dirty, tank top and a heavier denim coat over that tank top, the padding inside helped to keep him warm. His jeans, like the shirt, were also stained and worn, but still sturdy enough to be worn. They were clean, and they were comfortable, and they were practical, what more did he need?
The tattoos that cover his arms and torso were mostly covered except where they peeked through his tank top. The presence of scars, however, could never be hidden. Face, neck, chest... Though nothing of any particularly massive size was visible his flesh wore these markings like a badge of honor as any Fenrir would.
His approach was calm enough. His eyes wandered about the site picking up any little detail that he could. He carried himself with a resolve that was rare among any garou. Stoic, unflinching, unmoving, as if the rage within him had been beaten back and shoved into a little corner of his mind where it whimpers like the pathetic little creature that it was. This Forseti was in control of his own mind, and he would have it no other way.
When he reached the door he knocked three times then folded his arms and waited.
Hellforged
[Sure thing!]
Drew Roscoe
The property that the Forseti drove up to was a modest plot of land outside of Browntown. There were no fields, no barns or silos attached to it-- it was no farm that this Kinfolk lived on. It was just a quiet house out in the middle of nowhere. He had to park his truck either beside or behind the big well-cared for Dodge Ram that Drew drove around. The driveway was gravel, and cut past the left side of the house, leading to a two-car garage in the back.
In the night the place was quiet. The house was a one-story thing, built like a large bungalow, and a sidewalk wound its way from the driveway to the front porch of the house. The blinds were all drawn-- they usually were-- and a warm yellow light glowed from the windows of the front room. There was a low murmur of chatter coming from inside, possibly the voices of those physically there inside the home, possibly the television. From what Hellforged knew about Drew Roscoe, she lived alone, but she was a friendly little beast and probably entertained guests.
The knock at the door caused an interruption in the murmur of voices behind the walls. A dozen or so seconds ticked by after the solid knocks before the door was answered.
Drew Roscoe appeared in the doorway-- or what little of it was visible at least. She'd only opened the door enough for half of her torso and all of her face to be visible. It was enough that she could slam her weight into it and knock the door back closed if she needed to very quickly. But, despite that, she looked warm and pleasant enough. Her face was round, her eyes a brown to match the hair that she had twisted into a sloppy ponytail. She smiled brightly up at the Wolf at her Door and, apparently not recognizing the Forseti from the few times they'd glimpsed one another at Tribal gatherings, asked: "Can I help you?"
Erich Reinhardt
[don't wait on me -- i'm working as usual, and will squeeze in when i can!]
Hellforged
He glanced down at her with that cold stare of his. It could be difficult to be under the gaze of a Forseti. It wasn't the rage that simmered in the back of his mind, that had been put in it's place long ago. It was the feeling that anyone got while being watched by a judge or police officer... As if they could see every crime, every minute detail about your past, just by looking at you. Then again some individuals were comfortable enough in themselves not to fall victim to the tricks their own mind plays upon them.
"We've met before." He says with a nod of his head, a greeting. He didn't like to talk, it was never really his thing. He preferred to be as clear and concise as possible. So the part where he gabs about her day and what she has been up to was instead skipped to get straight to his reasons for being here. "I am Hellforged... Now Jarl Hellforged. You are blood of my tribe. I thought it would be prudent to introduce myself." He says simply back to her. He would be doing a lot of this. He wasn't the sort to keep distant. The responsibility of a Jarl was to lead his people and in Fenrir society there was no room for distance and floating above your peers. Fenrir lived as a community. They did not have kings... The had Jarls and when the Jarl failed to fulfill his task as Jarl he was replaced by his people. So here he was, attempting to do what he feels the previous Jarl neglected.
"If you have a moment." He didn't ask to be let in, he didn't imply much of anything other than the fact that he would like a moment to speak to the kin.
Drew Roscoe
He mentioned that they had met before, and the petite Kinfolk's eyes narrowed with scrutiny while she struggled to place his mug to an identity banked somewhere in the filing cabinet of her mind. This expression stayed until he expounded, gave his name, and stated that he was the Jarl now. With this her eyes went round again, and she blinked in surprise, glanced briefly over her shoulder, then regained her smile and looked back up into the Forseti's face.
He made people nervous. It was understandable how. His face was hardened, his scars were obvious and plentiful, and he had a cold air about him that made her think of a cinder block in January-- unmoving, gray, cold as hell. She met the cold front that he displayed with a big warm smile and by moving her arm and offering her hand for a shake.
"Oh! Yeah, sure, Hellforged. I remember you now. Sorry, I just haven't seen much of you... Not once outside of a crowd. Kind of forgot your face, I'm a bit ashamed to say. Congratulations on becoming Jarl."
He wanted to know if she had a moment, and she nodded, then gestured with her hand after they shook (or if he didn't accept it, she'd just transition the gesture to a thumb over her shoulder instead) back into the house. "Do you want to come in for a cup of something warm? Or is this brief enough that it's better to be on the porch?"
Erich Reinhardt
There's a thud at the other end of the house: a door banging careessly shut. Footsteps, confident and heavy, the way a guy might walk when he starts thinking of a place as his own. A home.
"So I was thinking," it's a man's voice, one that matches the footsteps: confident, loud, pitched to carry through the whole house wherever Drew might be. It's also a voice Hellforged has never heard before, "Maybe we oughta -- "
-- whatever Erich thinks they ought to do leaves off. He's come into sight of the front door. Forseti and Ahroun get their first look at each other, and the truth is they look like cousins; like long-lost brethren, blond and pale-eyed, big and robust. Erich's eyes, which are clear blue and shadowed under a distinctly Nordic brow, flick between Drew and Hellforged.
His body language changes; less open, more wary. He comes up behind Drew and reaches over her shoulder to put a hand on the door.
"Who's this then?"
Hellforged
He reaches out to intercept her hand and offer a firm shake in return. It was difficult for the half moon to return that bright smile. He could read moods, he understood them well enough, but smiles always seemed few and far between, and laughter even more so.
"Things have been difficult." He could rant about the conflict between the packs, the failings of his Jarl, his own choice to withdraw from the entire issue rather than stepping the fuck up and doing his job, not to mention the actual real shit that needed dealing with. However, he chose instead to be simple with the matter. Shit happens, there's no reason to make any more of it and drag people around in the mud in the process. Gossip was among the worst sins the Fenrir could commit in his mind. So instead his response was now, as it would always be. Short, and sweet.
"I don't intend to take much of your mind, I simply wanted to discuss a few changes and Issued I would like..." He was in the process of stepping inside, or getting ready to, when he found himself catching sight of Eirich. A glance, and a nod of his head in the man's direction. He didn't know him, or even recognize him, but he was polite enough to greet him with a nod. Allowing the hostess to see to the introduction.
Drew Roscoe
While Drew was shaking the man's hand and asking if he preferred to come inside or not, the sound of the back door of her house opening and smacking shut issued behind her, startling the little Kinfolk, causing her to snap-twist her head back to look over her shoulder. Erich's voice was immediately recognized by Drew, and she relaxed a little in knowing that it wasn't some strange crazy beast bursting into her home. She was looking back at the Shadow Lord when he stopped, saw Hellforged, and approached without question or hesitation.
He put his arm past her to hold onto the door, and Drew's expression was a curious thing to behold-- something between unamused, sardonic, and worried. She breathed deep, exhaled slowly, and moved the gun that she'd had tucked behind her back in her left hand all this while to set it on the table beside the door instead. "This is Hellforged. The Jarl." Her tone is bland, perfectly matched to her face.
"Hellforged, this is Erich 'Storm's Teeth' Reinhardt. You may as well come in, otherwise all the heat in my house is gonna find its way out into the night."
And with that statement she stepped backward, out past Erich, nudging him lightly with her shoulder on her way by to indicate that he should back up and let the Forseti in as well.
Erich Reinhardt
Something in Erich's eyes changes when the word Jarl leaves Drew's mouth. The set of his mouth seems grimmer; yet his hand drops from the door, and the overt aggression in his body language subsumes a bit. He returns Hellforged's nod, stepping aside to let the Forseti in.
"Cliath Ahroun," he adds to Drew's introduction. "Shadow Lord.
"We've been meaning to find you. The Fenrir Alpha, anyway. Guess it was up in the air for a while." Drew shuts the door, or Erich does; either way, Erich steps out of his shoes and leaves them in the entryway. "Gotta say I'm a bit surprised. The way everyone talks about the Cutler-Sutherlands, thought it'd be one of them wearing the title."
There are little hints in all of this; clues that a savvy Forseti like Hellforged can't possibly miss. It's in Erich walking in the back door instead of the front. It's in the easy familiarity he has with this house. The way he said we a moment ago; the way this house, Drew's home, bears the faint traceries of Erich's scent in it as well.
Hellforged
[Okay quick roll on Auggie's part! To be certain before I post what he picks up from them! Per+Empathy!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 2
Erich Reinhardt
[It's pretty obvious Erich and Drew are an item, at least from Erich's end. He's not making any attempt to hide the familiarity and comfort level he has with Drew, though by the same token he's not blatantly PDAing it up either. More broadly speaking, Erich seems to instinctively defend Drew's territory; that hand on the door was definitely a "if I need to kick you out I will" move. Finally, he seems somewhat defensive and wary of Hellforged -- perhaps more so than you'd expect, even from a Shadow Lord who's been getting close to a Fenrir kin. It seems to run deeper and older than simple fear of an asskicking or anything of the sort.]
Hellforged
There was a problem with this particular Jarl that many would likely not have guessed at first glance do to that emotionless gaze of his. He picks up on the two of them, the way they interact. The closeness of the male, the slight hint of concern from the female. These subtle little details were hidden from immediate view but he picked them up with startling ease. There likely was a reason that Forseti set people on edge, and any other philodox for that matter, it was difficult, sometimes impossible, to hide what you truly didn't want them to know from them. Especially when they actually found themselves interested enough to try to find out.
Augmund's eyes flicked from Drew to the other man. She introduced him with a deed name and that told him her was Fenrir. Augmund had yet to meet this Fenrir so there was a hint of surprise, though he kept that jaw of his firm, and his face unmoving. He simply studied the other man curiously. Who was he to stand in the way of two Fenrir? What they chose to do in the privacy of their own homes was... What's this? Shadow Lord? There is a twitch in his brow as his stoic gaze locks on the other man.
"The Sutherlands and Cutlers have lived in this land for some time, as my own family, we would all be better for their particular direction and wisdom. However, sometimes we must also be put in our place before we can truly understand what it means to lead. The Butcher's time will come soon enough, but now is not that time." He reassures, and speaks of his opponent with the utmost respect and dignity. He would not be caught engaging in slander or belittling one of his own. Shit talk was reserved for a person's face.
He stepped into the house and glanced between them. "Because it would be inappropriate of me to make assumptions about matters I know little about, perhaps you can explain to me what it was you desired to speak to me about?" He asks the man in a curious enough tone. He did not beat around the bush. Augmund saw no point in being subtle or clever about this. He was simple and direct about the matter. He wanted to hear it from the other's mouth. He could have outright spit it out, but there was more to these matters than being direct. So much more to be learned, and garnered from watching, and listening to, another's response.
Hellforged
[Ignore this it has nothing to do with anyone here! I don't even need it witnessed!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 1 )
Drew Roscoe
Drew hadn't been wearing shoes, so she didn't need to take them off at the door like Erich did, like Augmund might. She was dressed in a pair of simple dark-wash jeans, white stockings, and a snug-fitted white tank top that she was wearing a dark gray sweater overtop of-- one that wasn't intended to be zipped up or belted closed, but instead hung loose and open down just past her hips.
She glanced to Erich, and from him to Hellforged, gauging the Forseti's expression and reactions. She glanced down just long enough to slip her pistol into the little end table drawer, then stepped out of the doorway and gestured past the living room (a big brown leather sectional with a coffee table in the center, flat screen television hanging off the opposite wall) to the kitchen (a similarly open affair, the kitchen table was visible from the doorway).
"Sit if you like. Or if you'd rather keep this quick and stay where you are, that's fine too. I'll put a kettle on either way."
And with that she excused herself into the kitchen. At this point the new Jarl was focused on the Shadow Lord, speaking toward him rather than to Drew. It seemed he wanted a man-to-man conversation, and that was just fine. She'd give them a minute and go get some water boiling for drinks in the meantime.
Erich Reinhardt
A soundless, humorless huff of laughter escapes Erich. Drew excuses herself to go make tea or coffee or hot chocolate; the Ahroun's eyes follow her for a second before coming back to Hellforged.
"You don't have to play politically-correct with me. I grew up amongst Fenrir," he doesn't hide that part of his history either, no more than he hid the familiarity he has with this house, this home, its owner. "You can make your assumptions. They're probably right."
There's a sectional in the living room. If Hellforged sits, so does Erich -- over on the other side, around the bend where he can face the Forseti. More or less.
"Drew and I have been seeing each other. I met her in early October when I first came to the Chesapeake area. We became friends. She helped me out a couple times. We had a lot of talks. Got to know each other. It turned into more than friendship.
"We've slept together once." Just like that: a statement, no shame, no shying away. "Day after Thanksgiving. We've been close since, but nothing sexual.
"Drew has no Garou family recognized by the Nation. I'm not part of your Sept here, but she is, and you're the new Jarl. I guess that makes you her guardian now, which means you deserve to know what's between us."
Hellforged
He notes the fact that shoes are removed and he is polite enough to begin removing his boots, and settling them on the floor where it looks like the shoes/boots are supposed to go. Hospitality was important to the man. Just as it was the responsibility of the host to provide for the well being of the guest, it was the responsibility of the guest to abide by the rules of the Host. Kin were still people, they still claimed territory, and they still had consideration in his mind even if that consideration was somewhat weaker, in his mind, when is stood in direct opposition of the considerations made for the true born.
He removed his shoes and then nodded to Drew. "Thank you." He says calmly. It wasn't that he intended to be cold to her. It wasn't as if he held her in disdain, he simply didn't appear to register much outside of that cold stare of his.
There was a cold thrumming in his head. You see Augmund was a traditionalist in the purest sense of the word. He wielded a hammed because it was the weapon of his tribe, he upheld the litany with a strict, some might even say overly strict, adherence to the intentions of the laws as they were established. He would smash a man's face in for daring to mock or even brag about besting another in an honorable challenge. Being a traditionalist meant, fortunately for some, interpreting the rules in such a way that all were held before the eyes of the law and all were treated as if they were equally protected by it. Without that feeling that the law is their ally then it would only be seen as their enemy and we all know what garou do to their enemies.
He walks into the room, slowly enough, and decides to take a seat. He decides to listen. He is Forseti. He is not about to throw a fit in another woman's home and stomp his feet about the issue without, at first, hearing the other out. It was, in his mind, the right of anyone to have their story heard when they felt the need to tell it. So he listened, quiet and still, as the Shadow Lord told his story.
He listens to Eirich, and then his eyes turn towards Drew. He speaks softly enough towards her. "Do you have anything you wish to add?" He asks her. It was almost frightening to think that one of the Fenrir could even be so calm about anything. They even hugged people with anger on their faces for fucks sake! Yet there he sat, calm, listening.
Drew Roscoe
The men settled onto the sectional, and Drew excused herself into the kitchen. While they spoke, they could hear her bustling about some, moving the kettle from where it normally rested on the back burner of the stove and filling it with water. There came the quiet 'clck-clck!' of the gas range starting up, and with the kettle set over the flame Drew reappeared in the open space between dining area and living room. She leaned against the edge of the wall, where the refridgerator marked the start of the kitchen proper, and wrapped her arms around her midsection while Erich explained their situation as simply and accurately as possible.
She didn't know what she was expecting from Augmund, but it certainly wasn't his even calm. She thought he would pop a vein in his temple with restraint-- or maybe he would try and physically force Erich from the home and ignore Drew's protests otherwise, and this would have to rise to a very heated altercation. These were the things she was braced and ready for, but they didn't happen. Not yet, at least, she never put escalation out of the picture when dealing with Wolves.
So, when Hellforged directed his cool gaze her way and asked if she had anything to add, Drew shrugged one shoulder and snugged her arms more securely about her middle.
"I suppose that while I respect our traditions and love our Tribe, I do find the concept of selective breeding and arranging couplings to be not just outdated, but downright insulting. I'm hoping you'll take that-- adult consent and emotion-- into consideration before deciding whether you'll grant blessing or not."
Notice, she said 'grant blessing'. Not 'lay down the law', or 'allow us to continue'. Nowhere in her sentence did it seem that she was ready to agree to stop seeking Erich's company if the Jarl told her not to.
Erich Reinhardt
Yeah - it surprises Erich when Augmund doesn't simply launch himself at him. That may have been what Erich expected; may have been why he chose to sit where he is, with the corner of the coffee table between them, with Drew behind Augmund, out of the line of crossfire.
Nothing of the sort happens though. The Philodox is glassy calm. If anything it makes Erich more suspicious: what devilry is this? He tongues a molar, looking over Hellforged's head as Drew enters the room, adds what she does. A few beats go by. Erich has something else to say after all:
"I'm not here to steal your kin from you. She's Fenrir to the core. Wants to stay that way. It'd be hypocritical of me to drag her off and force her to be a Shadow Lord, cut her off from the Fenrir, or anything like that. We just want..."
There's a small pause there; the words seem somehow soft, weak in his mouth. He grimaces and says them anyway:
"We want a chance. To see things through with each other. And if things work out, and if there are cubs," he glances at Drew; they haven't even talked about this, "then I want them to have the choice I didn't have: their father's tribe or their mother's, or any other they might choose, without getting disowned by anyone."
Drew Roscoe
Three adults stood in Drew's house this night. The weather was mild enough, but crisp as all winter evenings tended to be. There was an extra truck parked out in Drew's driveway, its owner seated in the living room on one edge of the sectional.

Augmund, the new Fenrir Jarl, sat on one end of the sectional.
Erich, a Shadow Lord Ahroun, sat at the opposite end with the coffee table between himself and the other Garou.
Drew stood in the space between dining room and living room, a safe distance away just in case things became physical.

"Drew and I have been seeing each other."
"You deserve to know what's between us."
"Do you have anything else you wish to add?"
"Consider adult consent and human emotion."
"I'm not here to steal your kin. We want a chance."

They spoke calmly to one another, the three of them. Despite that tone, the calm of their tone and the quiet in the room, there was an underlying tension that rippled electric through the air.

Erich and Drew were quiet, now, glancing briefly to one another before turning attention to the Half-Moon Fenrir. It was time for him to make his opinion known, and they would wait for him to think, and wait for him to speak.
Hellforged
They were both young... Full of passion, and desire and filled by romantic notions that told them the world in which they lived was something other than what it actually was. He was young, himself, but he had also worn the years he did claim quite a bit harder than some. He knew what it was like to want something. He knew what it was like to desire something. However, he also knew, more than anything in the world, that in the life of the Garou duty and responsibility to tribe and nation came before any and all personal concerns.

"I have never cared for discomfort." He says after a long and silent pause. His eyes moving from one, to the other. It was hard to say what his reaction was as that focused gaze drifted from one of these two to the other.

"I have, however, learned to accept it and live with it." He says this and then closes his eyes. "Storm's Teeth... What is the Third Law of the Litany?" He asks, his demeanor remains calm enough. He was not outwardly displaying anger or any attempt at trying to threaten or harm them with his words. The easiest way for him to explain his stance on the matter would be to have them explain it to him. "What is the law and what does it mean. And when you are finished with that explain to everyone the fifth law of the litany." He opens his eyes and lets his eyes between the both of them.
Erich Reinhardt
He is young, Erich. Younger than Hellforged, and younger than Drew. Not by years, perhaps, but by sheer maturity. There's something worldweary and worn about the new Alpha of the Fenrir; like he's already seen too much. And Drew: well. The fact of the matter is the word 'love' has never come close to her lips when Erich's in question. She had love once, the real deal. He died badly. That sort of thing ages a woman beyond her years, too.

Erich: he hasn't seen too much. He's seen some -- enough, at least, of a certain sort of atrocity that there's something cornered and wary and hair-triggered about him whenever he sits in the same space as a Fenrir. But he hasn't lost an Alpha into the wind. He hasn't lost a mate.

The word love hasn't come to his mind or lips, either.


Maybe that's what keeps him from simply flying off the couch and going for Hellforged, tooth and claw. Because isn't that what you're meant to do when something threatens your one true mate? Attack. Fight. Kill. Defend, or die. He doesn't do any of that. Even so, the questions sit ill with Erich. Anyone in the room can see that. For a Shadow Lord, he certainly doesn't fit the profile. Too fair of complexion, too blunt of manner. Not a scrap of subtlety about him. He shifts his weight, leans his elbows on his knees. There's a quick jerk of his head, popping his neck.

"Lecturing on the Litany is a Half-Moon's job. And if you're trying to teach me through rhetorical questions, I got plenty of that when I was a cub."

Well. That's stretching the truth a bit. He didn't get much of that at all. He was brought up by Fenrir, after all, and most of them - let's just say they weren't quite a levelheaded as the one sitting in Drew's living room.

"But I think you're just trying to get me to arrive at your verdict all by myself. So, fine. Third law says respect the territory of another. Fifth says submit to your elders. I'm guessing you're telling me to keep my hands off Fenrir kin, and do it because you're -- I'm assuming -- my elder."

There's something hard about his jawline; fire in his eyes. No one likes to be denied; Ahrouns least of all.

"That about right?"
Hellforged
 "I asked you a question. I did not ask for commentary about my reasons behind the question Storm's Teeth Yuf." He says back to the Shadow Lord. He looks towards the Kin in the room, and then back towards the Shadow Lord.

"Passion, and even love, are wonderful things to me. However, I am also quite fond of tradition as well. Our kin are not about something as simplistic as selective breeding. They share a bond with us, an intense spiritual connection that cannot be severed easily." He says to the man calmly enough. "I mean no disrespect, but if you were sneaking into my home and fucking a cup, or a chair, while I was away and completely unaware. That would not be respecting my territory, now would it? If I caught you sneaking in, and only then did you think to inform me that you had been fucking my cup for weeks now, and wished to take possession of my cup for yourself, I might find myself displeased with the situation. I would be downright furious, and rightly so, at the fact that you have been dishonoring my territory in such a manner. However this is not a cup, or a chair, we are discussing. This is a woman with whom I share a profound spiritual bond with, our kin are not our property they are out territory in the fact that they share our blood and in that blood the very essence of our being. That is how you have already violated our Litany, and regardless of the outcome of this situation you will be punished for that. This is not personal... This is our way and you have violated an important aspect of what keeps us from ripping one another's throats out." He never breaks that eerie calm. He never lets on to whether or not he was feeling any particular emotions or even what they might be except in those calmly spoken words.

He draws in a long and slow breath. Expecting that the Full Moon will understand what he is saying and settling his eyes on Drew. "I am sure you are aware of the fact that we do not allow our kin to mate out of tribe without permission. To that extent, dating is also something that you did not seek permission for either."

"If I let this happen, I will make myself look weak before my peers. I will make others in this sept question my willingness to enforce the law, and perhaps even the law itself. I will not allow a Shadow Lord and Fenrir Kin to date so long as I live and breathe. However, I will also not attempt to force someone who does not stand with pride and honor all our ways and traditions equally."

He turns his eyes upon Drew at this point. "If you choose to pursue this relationship one of you must renounce your tribe. If you choose to undergo this then you will go before the members of your tribe, and you will renounce your friends, your family, your ancestors, and any and all connections you hold to your tribe. You will renounce them and then they will turn their backs upon you and your descendants, forever."He says this calmly enough. "That or Erich can do the same to his tribe. I care not which... I am not blind to the idea of love. If this prospect of love between you two is so great then this should be something one of you would gladly undergo. However, if it is not then you will both learn your lessons and move on." He knows neither of them will like this, and he knows he is probably not going to be a welcome sight by either one in the future, but he also knows that what he gave them was an offer he did not even have to present. He could have simply said no, after all.

He decides to stand. "I will give you both one week to decide." He says before offering any dishes he might have back to Drew. "I will leave now."

Augmund does not speak much but when he does he attempts to communicate fully what is being said. With any luck... They will both understand where he is coming from in this.
Erich
"We have not been fucking for weeks."

Erich rises with Augmund; they are exactly matched in this. Two powerfully built werewolves uncoiling from the same couch in the same moment, at the same speed.

"We fucked once." The invective comes again; it is no less vulgar for the repetition. "And that was a trespass, I won't deny it. I'll pay contrition if you want it. But that once was all there was. We waited -- for weeks -- for the Fenrir to rally behind an Alpha. Tonight's the first time I heard of you, and tonight's when I laid it out before you.

"I'm not asking forgiveness for what I did wrong. But I won't stand here and be berated for imaginary crimes."

A pause then; a glance to Drew, an exhale, then back to Augmund.

"You'd rather split us up or make one of us leave our tribe? You'd rather risk losing a valuable kin rather than condone a relationship that crosses tribal lines; even when I've assured you that whatever cubs we might have would be free to choose their own tribe as they please?" A beat. "Why?"
Drew
The expression on the Kinfolk's face for the length of the conversation had been grim at best. Her lips were pressed to a thin line, her brows were both flat, unexpressive lines over worried brown eyes.

The Philodox asked about the Litany.
Erich challenged the simple answers sought of and instead summed up his answer crudely: keep my hands off your property, and there is no other choice, is that right?

Augmund answered the challenge in the Ahroun's tone by explaining, calmly and carefully, that he had his own reputation to maintain, and therefore he could not be kind to someone trespassing upon the property of the Fenrir. They did have an option, though-- one or the other must leave their tribe and start anew in the tribe of their lover.

Drew's jaw clenched tight, clamped down on outburst that was stopped within her chest instead. She'd been looking at the coffee table while the new Jarl explained his terms, but they had snapped up to his face when he concluded his speech. He was rising to his feet, and Drew had shifted her weight off the wall and slid one foot forward to start an approach, but was momentarily halted by Erich's standing as well and clarifying one point-- a good sized one, the one that Drew was probably going to point out herself-- himself.

She looked across the room to Erich's face while he spoke, then switched her gaze quickly to Augmund instead. For the first time since she'd gotten the both of them cups of coffee (none for herself), she spoke up.

"There's no damn sense in snubbing what we've got in the bud like that. If the concern is losing a Kinfolk to someone of another Tribe, why does it matter if I renounce my roots or not? If you let us be, don't demand that we renounce anything, there's a chance that we, the Fenrir, at least keep whatever children may-- and I mean may-- come of this. If you twist my arm into giving up my Tribe? You're guaranteed to lose anything you might've had from me.

"I understand you need to keep your reputation up. I get that, and I empathize with it. I was mated to one of the Fenrir Leaders of Chicago before he passed, so I know you need to be firm to lead us. But what I don't get is what is so god damn different between a True Born Fenrir being with a Kinfolk of another tribe versus a Kinfolk Fenrir being with a True Born of another tribe?"

Her face had lost some color, just a little, but her eyes were bright and sharp, demanding of.... explanation? For him to change his mind? It was difficult to say, really, but where her pallor lacked vibrancy the sense of challenge about her surely made up for it.
Augmund
"They used to ask what harm there could be in allowing humans the freedom to make their own way in life." He notes as he makes his way to the door so he can begin slipping back into his boots. "As it turns out... It was the single worst mistake our kind ever made." His eyes move from one face to the other and back again. He watches them both to see their response to his little warning.

"You are both smart people. I do not need to explain to you the ramifications if I should choose to budge on this one small matter. It is my responsibility, as Fenrir, as Forseti, to hold my tribe together not let it fall apart. It is not enough to be born Fenrir. You must be Fenrir. In heart, in body, and in mind. If you are not then we have no use for you, you have no place among us." He turns his attention towards Drew. "If being a member of this tribe is too complicated for you there are other options." It was not intended to be especially cruel or harsh it was simply intended as a statement of cold hard fact. He sad this with the same piercing gaze that he seemed to carry with him wherever he went. It was as if he had been carved from stone, or his heart anyway.

Next his eyes fall upon Erich. "I am sorry if I am not giving you suitable time to try out one of my tribe's kin to see if you like it before you buy but that isn't how kin work. They aren't condiments to be passed around the table to anyone who feels like adding a little flavor to their plate. You have trespassed where you knew you should not have gone in the first place, regardless of whether or not I existed, you knew that you should not have started this relationship from the beginning. I don't see why then you should be shown any particular degree of pity when you are getting the results you knew you would be getting from the very start. If you seek to make reparations I will see you."

His eyes then move between the two of them. "You two, I am sure, have holiday plans and I will let you enjoy them." Sure he said one week but it IS the holidays and there's no sense in crying over spilled milk. "I will see you after the beginning of the new year." With that he offers a polite bow of his head before turning, calmly, to open the door and head back out onto the porch and then his truck.
Erich
Single worst mistake, Augmund calls the end of the Impergium. Erich stares; his eyes flick to Augmund's boots, his clothes. He says nothing; there are bigger fish to fry.

It goes on. Ramifications, Augmund says. Try before you buy, he says. Pity, he says, and with every one of those words the fire in Erich's eyes flares a little hotter; the line of his jaw clenches tighter. By the time Augmund gets to his polite goodbyes, Erich has no stomach left for them.

"We're not friends," he says. It takes just about every ounce of will he has to keep his tone level. "Let's not pretend we are.

"You just suggested your own kinswoman is so weakwilled that she'd let herself be passed around to anyone who wanted a sample. You basically called her too dumb to handle the 'complications' of the Fenrir and showed her the door. You've assumed the absolute worst of me when I've been as transparent as possible with you. You won't explain your decision with anything more substantial than 'it'd look weak otherwise'.

"I can't imagine a worse reason. I wish you'd just told me you're too damn oldschool to handle the thought of an intertribal relationship, so I better fuck off altogether because you can't bring yourself to cut your kinswoman off from her spiritual heritage either. I would've understood that; I wouldn't have liked it, but I would've respected it.

"A Shadow Lord shouldn't have to tell a Fenrir that weakness isn't in appearance. It's in action. You wanna know what your actions say to me? They say you're so unsure of your hold on your new position that you'd call your own kinswoman a dumb whore and lock her up like a mare in a corral, just to look strong. You've insulted me and your kinswoman tonight, beginning to end.

"So at least be consistent about it. Telling us you'll let us enjoy our holidays now is like putting a cherry on top of a steaming shit sundae."
Drew
Insult rang sharp in Drew’s ears. Hellforged would see, clearly, that with each rise in heat and flash of anger in the Ahroun’s eyes, it was reflected in the Kinfolk’s eyes and posture as well.

She had held her ground in the small empty space between dining room and living room up til that point. Now, though, her arms were no longer across her stomach, but rather at her sides with hands balled up into fists. Knuckles tapped lightly at the seam of her jeans, irritation evident. He addressed Drew directly, implying that she didn’t have the fortitude for her tribe, and her eyes narrowed and jaw jut out stubbornly in defiance. He turned then to address Erich, concluded that they should enjoy their holidays together, and turned to leave.

Again, Drew moved to speak, but Erich beat her to the punch. Drew looked to him, watching the Ahroun for the first few sentences while he spoke, then instead switched her gaze to Hellforged. While Erich finished up, spitting ire in his words, Drew approached Hellforged where he had moved to stand near the door. Her posture was open, front facing the Forseti directly, hands forced loose from the fists they had been in before, arms opened just a little with palms turned toward him to show no threat. Yet, at the same time, the gesture appeared to be ushering as well, even though her steps were slow.

When she spoke, her volume was low and her tone was calm, but her voice wavered just a little. She was restraining herself, but only just.

“We came before you honestly, Hellforged. We were expecting reason in return, not stubborn clinging to old laws that still treat Kinfolk like property when you claim to believe us to be more. I tried to be honest with you—I was honest with you. But now you’ve insulted me, my birthright, and my very intelligence in my own home.

“I thank you for dropping by, and for hearing us out, but I sincerely need you to leave now.”
Augmund
There are many things that Erich COULD have said that would have bounced off the Forseti's thick hide that many fenrir would have lashed out over. However, what he does say strikes deep down within his very core and the rage he had kept locked away comes billowing to the surface as the fire within him comes to life. There are many things one can call the Fenrir that Augmund would accept, even if they were insults, but weakness was not one of them. Even he had his limits, and even he had his breaking point.

"My father died tearing his enemies limb from limb. He did not live to see his son complete his rite of passage. He did not need to live to see his son complete his rite of passage. My father knew, as I knew, from the moment of his birth that his son was Fenrir. Fenrir is not a thing you simply accumulate along the way. It isn't a merit badge, it isn't a trophy, it is a part of who you are, who you were born, and who you will become." His hand points towards Drew. "That woman right there is Fenrir..." He says sharply as his eyes turn to look directly at the Shadow Lord. "And you are not. You are not, and you will never be... That, by it's definition, makes you unworthy of her." He says between his teeth as he chokes back the rage that had bubbled to the surface with the Shadow Lord's insinuation.

"If she wishes to cast aside her heritage. Then I will let her choose her own path, but if she chooses to hold onto that heritage then I am her Jarl and she will do as I command. So long as I am Jarl... So long as I live and breathe you will not break the covenant that exists between Fenrir and their Kin. Only Fenrir may break that covenant of their own will and choosing. So twist my words however you choose, and spit your venom all it pleases you Shadow Lord, my decision on this has been made and it is final." His words snap at the Shadow Lord as he chokes back the urge to lash out for the Shadow Lord's earlier insinuation. They were young, and full of questions, they were bound to challenge this. They were bound to question tradition, they were bound to ask themselves it's value. They were bound to respond to his decision with bitterness, but in the end it didn't matter what they said only what they did.

He had made his way for the exit for just this reason and when Drew asks him to leave he nods his head towards her. "I will be back with the coming of the new year." He says with a hint of finality before slipping back out into the cold to find his truck and go find somewhere to let his anger simmer down for a bit.