[Woot! Hector is here!]
Echoes of the Lost[YAAAAY]
-tgif-[it's friday night and you guys are at the mall. POST IN ACCORDINGLY WHILE I WORK ON SOME FORM OF INTRO. typical STing rules apply.]
-tgif-[http://www.shopsouthlands.com/pdfs/directorymap.pdf
-- kai contributed that. we will use it. please place yourselves somewhere closeish to sports authority.]
Echoes of the LostThis is probably not one of the better ideas he's had lately.
For whatever reason Hector couldn't stop in at the Barnes and Noble in Littleton because that would be near the Sept and the Homestead and pretty much everything else he needs that doesn't involve traveling around via public transportation. He had to go to the other side of the city. People on the train aren't too pleased to share close quarters with him but aside from the fact that he makes other folks feel like they're trapped on the light rail with an axe murder waiting to happen it really isn't that bad.
Commercialism becomes less of a Weaver trapping when he describes it as "ADVENTURE!!" But Tamsin still doesn't go for it. She tells him he's a fucking idiot and if he gets trampled going out shopping this close to Christmas that's his own fault. Or something. Tamsin sends the sweetest text messages.
Anyway: it's dark and Hector is hustling down the sidewalk towards the Barnes and Noble. He has his hood up and his hands in the pockets of his army jacket and judging by the scowl on his face he'd rather roll around directly on the sun's surface than be out in this below-freezing nonsense.
Keisha BallardAhh, the mall. That bastion of American consumerism; the hallmark of...well, Hallmark, among other stores. It is a crass level of commercialism like none other and with the mass of humanity that teems through them--not to mention the level of Weaveriness that pervades them, it's the last place that a Garou should head.
But you know what? When you need an Orange Julias, what are you gonna do, make it yourself? I think not.
Keisha used to love the mall, back before her First Change. Even in her anti-social, "fuck the world" attitude that she had before she changed in both body and mind, she enjoyed walking through the mall. Mostly it was for people watching...seeing people wander through and show their best and worst traits all at once. And sometimes she comes to them still, just to get a reminder of what her life used to be like. Not that she regrets the life that she has; far from it. But we've said before that Keisha is a bit more...human than your average Garou. And she likes coming here to remind her of how she used to be and remember that these are the people that, in their good and their bad, they're fighting for to some degree.
And so she's standing outside of the Sports Authority next to her alpha, bundled up warmly in a heavy sweater and coat. For once she doesn't have her sandals on and instead went for an old pair of thick-soled Doc Martins that still fit. She has an Orange Julius cup (Chekov's gun: if you reference it, you'd better use it!) in one hand and a bag from one of the stores in the other. And she's in a good mood despite the incredibly cold weather outside.
Pokes-the-Mind's_EyeMilton was at the Mall! Why not? Milton had something that very few Garou could ever actually claim to have... Milton had what was called a Job, that's right no freeloading here, and yet he still managed to fight evil at night, and look ridiculously awesome while doing it! It wasn't easy being as great as Milton, but somehow he always seemed to manage!
Milton had a lifestyle to keep up, and that meant junk food, video games, and expensive high tech toys, and what better place to get all of these things than at the local mall?
Exactly what possessed him to go out into this hellishly cold landscape is hard to say! His car was warm enough, and with enough layers you can really actually manage to pretend that it was nice out, but why go out in this in the first place? He's not sure... The only thing he IS sure of, is the fact that he's here, and where better to find him than coming out of the local Office Depot with a few tools to help him out back at the house? Still he had a few more places to check out and investigate before he could honestly claim to be finished with this place so that is where he headed!
Radiant HonorNormally, women of Avery's... quality do not shop at Southlands Mall. They shop in Cherry Creek North, amidst the wee boutiques that carry five items and only five items and each of those items costs a car payment. Well: a car payment for the peasantry, perhaps. Avery's car payment per month could buy her one of those cars that some people take out a loan for. The comparisons are skewed.
But she is here, instead of Cherry Creek North, because there are 3 other Sports Authority stores that she has tried and failed to find her chosen gift at, and she is nothing if not determined, nothing if not persistent. So here she is, dressed in a white coat that crosses her mid-calf, dressed in a white scarf around her throat and crossing her jaw and barely revealing her lips, dressed in grey slacks and black boots that crunch of the now very-packed layer of snow over everything that was not plowed and salted early this morning. Her hands are in her pockets, and her hair is straightened and gleams in reflection of Christmas lights.
Other purchases, from other stores and other malls, are in the car. Gift shopping is not something Avery has her servants do. And now here she stands in front of Sports Authority, feeling the cold like a knife despite who and what she is and from whence her tribe's blood hails, and as she walks towards the door, she wills this Sports Authority to have the skis she is looking for. By god, her brother will have the ones he asked for.
Siren of PersephonePhoebe also enjoys the mall. Still enjoys it, in fact, even though the people here are wary of her. Despite her warm and easygoing demeanor there's something about her that makes humans wonder if she's not about to start breaking windows or something.
She doesn't let it bother her, especially not tonight. She and Keisha are out at the outdoor mall. They've made their way to the Sports Authority by way of Bath & Body Works, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, and Eddie Bauer. They're standing outside and not keeping up a momentum that will keep their joints and limbs warm because she sees Hector, or who she assumes is Hector, booking it on the other side of the street. Hm. She taps Keisha on the shoulder to stop them from going in and getting whatever it is that a pair of Theurges would want to get in a Sports Authority, and tilts her head toward the hooded figure. "Doesn't that look like Hector?" she asks.
She's opted out of her own sandals and long broomstick skirt, swapped them out for hiking boots and jeans and a dark brown suede coat, the faux-fur lined hood pulled up over her own head.
-tgif-Friday night at the mall. A timehonored American tradition, as old as popcorn at the movies and making out in the back of your dad's car. This close to Christmas, the typical teenage crowds -- the kids with their trinkets from Claire's, their lids from Lids, their t-shirts and flannels from American Eagle and their fruity bodysprays from B&BW -- intermingle with adult shoppers looking for reasonable deals on reasonable gifts for Kathy at the office and Steve the brother-in-law.
Freezing cold keep shoppers on the move, though. A few miserable souls are huddled twenty feet from doors, sucking down cigarettes. A few more are waiting at the intersection for the light to turn. With every whip of wind comes distant cascades of laughter -- high school kids hunkering down against the cold, their bags flapping against their legs, the boys pulling their girlfriends closer if they have one. Adult shoppers: they're a little less amused, a little more harried. The wind drives their heads down, collars up. Some of them wrap scarves over their mouths and noses. Some of them just curse.
Sports Authority, then. Like the rest of those big-box stores, it is -- tonight, at least -- a beacon of welcome, well-lit warmth. The Garou approaching the store aren't the only ones with the idea of getting inside and getting warm. A steady stream of customers move through the double-layer sliding doors. More in than out.
Radiant HonorAvery, without further ado, walks inside. She just doesn't see Phoebe and Keisha. She is, after all, on a mission.
Echoes of the LostAt least he's dressed for the sort of shit that usually goes down when a large group of them happen to converge upon the same spot. The Uktena is wearing black work boots and black jeans. Everything on his person is dedicated except the fingerless gloves and the black knit cap he has pulled down over his head.
This outfit definitely makes him look like a delinquent. It's no wonder Phoebe is able to pick him out of a crowd so quickly.
He's about to weave his way through a throng of high schoolers and distracted parent-types moving towards the big inviting oak-type doors when something across the street catches his attention.
"HEY I KNOW YOU!" he yells at the two Theurges before he starts the dolorous task of getting across the street without falling on his ass.
A frazzled driver almost doesn't stop quickly enough but Hector shuffles his winter-hating behind across the street and doesn't flip them off. Bumps Keisha with his shoulder and gives the Fostern an upward nod. He must have shaved his face within the last week because the sparse growth on his jaws is gone. He looks on the verge of speaking. Then a burst of wind takes away his words.
"NEVER MIND I can't feel my face."
That's all the explanation either of them get before Hector turns and bolts inside the Sports Authority.
Keisha BallardKeisha turns her attention to where Phoebe points and squints when her alpha asks if that's Hector up ahead. "I think so." '
And she raises a hand to wave, and oh look, here comes Avery too. The Silver Fang is closer and so she turns to say hi to her...but Avery is gone in the door without noticing them. Woman on a mission, there.
And so she's turning back to Hector and he opens his mouth, exclaims that he's gone numb from cold and runs inside. Sports Authority is a popular place for Gaia's warriors tonight, it seems.
She looks at Phoebe and raises an eyebrow. "I could stand to get out of the cold myself."
Pokes-the-Mind's_EyeIt's cold as fuck outside and Milton thinks to himself, "it's cold as fuck!" shortly before saying, "it's cold as fuck!" This prompts him to glance in the direction of the Sports Authority, and he finds himself wondering exactly how he got this far. He takes the time to retrace his steps but he pauses mid-thought and remembers his previous thoughts just before this.
Sports Authority doesn't sound like the kind of place he would normally shop, but isn't Skiing a sport? And skiing people must have clothes better suited to mobility in the cold, right? So that is his next destination! Time to get himself a new coat, and maybe some shoes with that hard earned cash of his! Which he gets from his job!
Siren of PersephoneHEY I KNOW YOU!
Phoebe's face lights up with a smile. Usually when Hector calls up Phoebe he greets her with something along the lines of Siren of Persephone-rhya, she of the most gloriousest brilliance something something Phoebe's not a Galliard, she's not good at coming up with those titles herself. To be addressed as HEY is a welcome change of pace.
Before she can greet him properly he's yelling about not feeling his face, and anyway, there goes Avery, and Milton? Yes, that is Milton.
Phoebe turns to look at Keisha, that grin only going wider. "C'mon, it'll be warm, at least."
-tgif-People are walking in. People are walking in. Garou are walking in. People are walking in, and then, quite suddenly, quite without warning:
people are running out.
Hector practically gets bowled over by a big beefy mid-30s guy that looks like he might've played football at some point in his history. Still takes pretty good care of himself, that guy. Good enough that you'd think he'd have the smarts and the time and the money and the education and the everything to stop and apologize, but no. He's just running. He's running the fuck away, his breathing tattered and terrified, zipping up his coat as he runs. The light on the street is green. He doesn't look both ways. Cars screech and honk, and --
-- more people running out. Twos and threes and sixes, sevens, entire crowds of them now. Clawing through the bottleneck of the sliding doors, the merchandise detectors blaring their sirens, someone in the back screaming oh god oh god let me out of here oh god,
RUN.
Maybe it's the will of Gaia that makes things like this happen. That draws a handful of disparate Garou together on some random night, at some random site, just in time for some random evil to break loose. They're probably starting to get nervous every time more than three of them showed up together by pure coincidence.
Siren of Persephone[percept+alert+MOON: what the ffffffffffffff]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
Keisha Ballard[[Per+Alertness 'cause why not. Specialty: Uncanny Instincts]]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 3 ) Re-rolls: 1
Radiant HonorAvery is the first of the garou. Her glory surrounds her, and her rage, and she is drawing herself up straight as she looks around, one white-gloved hand lifting to tug her scarf down. She searches for the ski gear. She senses rage and breeding and turns to look, seeing Hector and Phoebe and Keisha and Milton, and her face breaks into a delighted smile, broad and shining and hopeful
and then someone nearly runs into Hector, and Avery blinks, startled. This is why one shouldn't run indoors, really, especially with people tromping snow inside, turning the linoleum floors slippery. She breathes in,
smells fear.
The smile is gone from her face now. Her shoulders are squared as a flood of people begin rushing, bolting away, and someone is screaming, and Avery looks directly at the other Garou that Gaia has given to this place tonight. "Milton," she says, clear and loud, right at the Ragabash, locking eyes with him. "Get something on the sensor to keep the door open -- let everyone get out faster. Harry them if you have to. Then rejoin us." Her eyes go to Hector, whose power is vastly different from that of the Theurges, but anyone looking at him would think he is the stronger... and the truth is, in some ways, they would be absolutely right. "Stay by me," she says, almost saying so many other things with that glance, those eyes.
Things like:
Phoebe and Keisha need to be kept safe.Milton needs to be able to move quickly.None of them can take the kind of punishment you and I can.Please. Help me keep them safe, keep them where they are strongest.
But none of those have words, and so none of those are expressed. She looks at the Theurges then, with something like deference in her eyes. Avery has begun stripping off her gloves, unwinding her scarf, quick, quick, unbuttoning her coat. "Can either of you tell what we might be dealing with?"
Echoes of the LostThis is the first time he's sprang out of the way of a human since he was still mostly human himself. But Hector does spring out of the guy's way. And then he keeps moving so he's in a corner with his back to the wall's joints. He shucks down his hood and cranes his neck that he might get an idea of what it is he's about to run towards.
When Avery speaks his eyes dart to her. He listens more to what she doesn't say than what she does say. She doesn't have to say much. He can imagine what would have happened that night in the pit if Javed and Erich and he had not put themselves between Beloved Horror and the Theurges. Javed and Erich aren't here now. Hector only glances away once to make sure the other three are within sight and then he peels himself out of the corner to stand beside the Silver Fang.
He too peels out of his winter gear but he's distracted as he reads the room.
[perc + occult: i can sense wyrm?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 4, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Echoes of the Lost[i forgot to hit the reroll 10s button]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )
Echoes of the Lost[jesus christ hector knock it off]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )
-tgif-[there's a lot of noise coming from deeper in the store. clanks and thuds and grinding noises, metal-on-metal, gears rattling, the sort. inorganic. almost mechanical. they can also glimpse movement: sort of jerky, halting, rising, accelerating.]
-tgif-[oddly enough: no wyrm.]
Siren of PersephoneSomeone nearly knocks into Hector and Phoebe is opening her mouth to give the man a piece of her mind, when she notices. He's not the only one hurrying out of here. Her mouth closes and her eyes widen. Grabbing Keisha by the wrist, she tugs her packsister along with her to the side, out of the way of the doors. Tall even in her birth form, Phoebe is just lifting herself up to the balls of her feet, stretching to her full height to try to look over the crowd. Unlike Avery and Hector, she does not start removing her winter gear. Releasing Keisha, she shifts her satchel forward, keeping it close to hand in case she needs something from it.
"There's," she starts, and her brows constrict with confusion rather than concern. "They're running from something mechanical. It's coming from the back of the store." She lowers herself to stand flat-footed once more.
Pokes-the-Mind's_EyePeople are running from the place, and this piques Milton's interest. Granted, Milton is no Ahroun, so charging blindly into the fray really isn't his thing. He does, however, get his iPhone out and he holds it up above the crowd, pointing in the direction of the store, for a few seconds to get a little recording of what he might be walking towards, before bringing the Camera back down to begin investigating what might be on it.
Then he hears Avery speaking, and he looks up at her, and blinks a few times in surprise, but his attention goes towards the doors and he nods his head. Shouldn't be... Too Difficult to keep a few doors open. Naturally, he relies on his iPhone, they have to have a computer handling those sensors somewhere and that meant it could be accessed... Nevermind that there was no actual means of enabling the iPhone to connect to the computer, Glasswalkers have never allowed reality to stand in the way of gettin' shit done!
[As soon as he gets close spending 1 WP to activate plug and play, in an attempt to gain access to the sensor... And try to tell it to stay the hell open! As he was ordered by his elder!]
Radiant HonorAs Avery unbuttons her coat, as Phoebe answers her question, as Hector moves to her side, as Milton goes to get those doors jammed so people don't run straight into them, or slip and hurt themselves, or trample one another,
she turns. She sheds the coat and lets it fall to the floor, nevermind that the floor is covered in traceries of slush, black and brown with mud and oil from asphalt mixed with snow and ice. She stands in those pretty grey slacks, that pretty pink sweater with the flower applique on the shoulder, and she calls out to whatever is back there.
"I do not know what you are," she calls, louder than her words to the other wolves. "I do not know from where you came. But you are harming those within my protectorate. You are frightening those who deserve no fear, and whose hearts should not be troubled further when the world is already so dark."
She sounds furious.
"I will end that harm. I will end that fear."
A light has seemed to gather over her, settle on her, colder and brighter and more transcendent than anything the overheads are putting out. Her voice rises. Her eyes flash. Fury fills her words, searing in their clarity.
"I will end you."
[PREP TIME:
-1 WP: Fangs of Judgement
-1 WP: Resist Pain
-1 WP: Lambent Flame
-1 R: Eagle's Beak (hence all the shouting)]
Radiant Honor[ACK SORRY.]
Echoes of the LostHector actually looks confused for a few seconds. All that screaming and running and it isn't corruption driving them out. Phoebe says it's something mechanical.
"Oh shit," he says.
Probably not the most heartening thing to hear from someone whose knowledge of Things Garou Aren't Supposed To Know About is relatively expansive but Hector is also 21 years old. He hasn't lost his taste for the adrenaline that spikes when something bizarre throws itself in his path. Fighting robots isn't something one gets to do every day.
He turns around in time to watch Milton wave his phone at the doors to convince them to stay open and then seems stunned by the righteous fury borne on Avery's voice. It isn't the first time he's witnessed it but he isn't being shot at and puked on yet. He can actually appreciate it this time.
This is going to make a badass moot story.
-tgif-Those sliding doors open and close, open and close, open-close, open-close. Then Milton steps in. Then they fly open, and stay open, motionless, the little red light on the sensor blinking so rapidly it seems to blur into a steady glow.
Their way unimpeded now, the masses evacuate. Which is to say: they run away screaming.
--
In the quietness left behind it's easier to hear what Siren spoke of. That mechanical grind. The enormous banging and clanking and screeching and thudding; the sort of noise you'd expect at a junkyard, a scrap metal yard, a shipyard, something like that. Not in the middle of a large, well-lit consumer depot. Yet there it is, getting louder and louder, swelling, rising -- merchandise trembling on the shelves, shelves tumbling over. Out of nowhere, a mountain bike comes sailing over the shelves, smashes, bends its spokes and twists its handlebars, skids to a stop at the base of a display of --
oh. Would you look at that: the skis Avery's brother wanted.
Avery shouts to the menace in the back of the store. She makes her declaration of war. She makes her promise of destruction. She is a force to behold, and indeed, for a little while at least, it seems to work. The noise abates. The dim movement behind those high-stacked shelves settles. For a moment, for a second or two, the Garou might just think they've found themselves an easy victory tonight.
And then:
it comes thundering over the shelves. It: because there is no other word for it. This monstrous collection of -- what is that? Merchandise? Bicycles and skis and basketballs and tennis rackets, pool cues, volleyball nets, sneakers, sneakers, so many sneakers: a boiling mass of inanimate objects bizarrely made animate, tumbling and twisting on itself, a sphere, a blob, an irregular form. Coalescing, finally, into something almost humanoid. Hulking, with a tiny featureless head made of dartboards and Dri-Fit shirts; with enormous arms that rest knuckles-down against the ground, a barrel-chested torso, an indistinct lower body.
It pounds its mighty fists against the floor. Shelves topple from the shockwave. Somewhere in those arms, a soccer goal bends with a shriek of metal. Again and again it beats its fists on the ground: an unmistakable gesture of territoriality.
Siren of PersephonePhoebe is already mostly back, but she takes another step, to ensure that she is somewhere behind the others. Tonight of all nights is one where she might not make a fool of herself if she tries to join the fight, but with Avery and Hector there, why would she?
She pulls a compact from her satchel and quickly snaps it open.
[peek across the Gauntlet? gnosis +1, diff -1 (reflection)]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 6 )
-tgif-[the weaver is strong here, unsurprisingly. webs everywhere, spiders attending to every strand. yet where the merchandise-monster churns, there is a curious blank in the Pattern. a twisting, gyring vortex of Wyld.]
Pokes-the-Mind's_EyeMilton's eyes go wide at the sight of this thing, and he takes the time to look at his hands, and then back at the thing, and then back at his hands. The Garou are a warlike people, they understand violence, they look at hands and they see weapons, or things that can be used to carry weapons... They don't always see the potential in the monkeys hands, and what they can be used to accomplish! Milton, however was a pretty quick thinking guy... And almost instantly his eyes widen as an idea popped into his head.The other garou were going to fight this thing. He knew this, and he understood it, but he needed time. This is where he looks at Avery, she was in charge... She seemed like the most In-Chargey sort at the moment (Silver Fangs tended to do that) so that is who he would address. "I have an idea, but I need time, can you keep it distracted without putting yourselves too directly in harm's way?" He asks her.
He waits, to hear her answer, hoping they're willing to buy him a little time, a chance to do... Whatever the hell it was he wanted to do. However, by the look in his eye it was apparent he was excited about it!
Radiant HonorThe mortals are escaped. The weak are saved. Now the strong must prevail.
Avery, glowing with Luna's light and the purity of her tribe, rises up to her full height as a bicycle flies from a shelf and zooms towards another mass. Avery's eyes snap, following it, and she blinks, momentarily distracted. The skis! Then: furious. WHAT GOOD ARE THEY NOW. AND THEY WERE THE LAST ONES IN STOCK IN THE WHOLE STATE.
She is going to lose her goddamn mind.
--
It comes. Avery takes a breath, and then she is warping, twisting, still shining under some unseen beacon of moonlight that penetrates even this building. Hair and flesh turn to fur, eyes slant and widen, teeth sharpen to fangs, hands tighten together into paws and then expand, claws emerging from their tips. She is white as the snow before it has fallen, white as that moonlight, and as she watches the thing come towards them, she focuses her spirit.
And white becomes something else entirely. Her whiteness becomes incandescent, her light makes her almost translucent, except for the slight silvery edge all around her. The ground shudders in the wake of that thing's display of dominance.
She doesn't lunge for the attack. It's harder to tell on her hispo-formed face, but to be honest, she's a bit stunned.
[-1G for Luna's armor. Stamina + Survival]
Dice: 8 d10 TN7 (1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Radiant HonorWhen she hears Milton's question, Avery doesn't take her eyes off of the thing in front of her. She just nods. It's not completely truthful: she will put herself in harm's way if necessary. But she'll also keep it distracted.
Radiant Honor[DLP!]
Radiant HonorWhen she hears Milton's question, Avery doesn't take her eyes off the thing in front of her at first. She growls low, more conversational than aggressive, in Milton's direction.
"What idea?"
Echoes of the LostAnd here comes the source of Phoebe's intel. It comes out of the back of the store like a guardian. Nearly upends more merchandise with its forepaws.
"Oh SHIT."
That's not a robot. The Uktena doesn't look like that changes his battle-willingness at all. He's just not entirely sure where to start with hacking away at it. So he looks over his shoulder at Phoebe. His eyes widen like to ask her her professional opinion but she's already pulling out a compact so he turns back around.
Milton asks for more time.
Hector explodes into his war form. He doesn't want to be in his human skin when the Glass Walker starts blowing shit up.
Pokes-the-Mind's_EyeAvery totally had to ask him! What the hell! Why do people always want to know what he wants to do? Why can't they just let him do it? "Uhh... I'm gonna Blow it up? Not much sense in subtlety now! You hold it off, and when I say so... You get the hell outta there... Just need a minute or two!"
Radiant HonorAvery chuffs a breath out. Indoors, even with the doors wide open, it doesn't steam. Hector and she together look incredible: the dark, hulking Uktena in his warform, the gleaming Silver Fang white as snow and starlight in hispo. She hesitates, then: "Prepare. Do not act. It not attack us. We want to know why."
And with that, she turns to look at the Theurge in their midst.
Siren of Persephone"It's Wyld," Phoebe says, sounding startled. She blinks her eyes to refocus on this side of the Gauntlet - and it's hard. Her connection boosted her ability to see through a window in the fabric so strongly she thought for a moment she'd slipped across. No, no, she's here. And she snaps that compact closed in one hand, bringing the other up to scrub at her face.
"I can't say for certain why it's here. The Weaver is strong here," it's a mall, of course it is, "it may just want to push it out. I have a few gifts that may help in reducing its power that I can try," she says.
-tgif-While they speak, the merchandise-monster isn't exactly waiting around. It is pounding its fists into the ground, rattling shelves, sending tremors through the floor. Presently it begins to pace. It begins to make short, abrupt rushes toward the Garou -- rush, then a sudden stop, a few steps paced back; rush again.
Every time it gets a little closer. It's a safe bet that pretty soon it won't be bluffing anymore.
Siren of PersephoneShe is looking in particular at Avery, because honestly it's Avery. She is a daughter of Falcon, and whether she was born into the role or grew into it over time, she's a leader. And a Philodox. When strange whatthefuckery is going down, people look to the leaders who will command the combat, except
this isn't the usual sort of combat. It's not a bane or a creature of the Wyrm or a gang of thugs. It's Wyld. Phoebe's expression shifts, eyes widening, mouth parting just a little in an Oh.
Immediately her posture changes, spine straightening, shoulders back. She looks at the conglomeration of sports equipment, and she looks back to Avery. And she smiles
"It doesn't seem to be in a talking mood. If we weaken it, we might be able to relocate it to somewhere it'll prefer."
Catch the wild animal and put it out in the grass, as it were.
Echoes of the LostThinking clear in a body meant for cutting down threats isn't easy for someone whose Rage is as high as Hector's. The materialized body of merchandise keeps moving to assert its presence and its dominance and each time it draws closer a ripple of answering challenge raises the hackles on the huge Galliard's body.
He bears one lone battle scar on his right side front and back. He isn't shy about throwing himself at things that can knock him into the next life. Today he behaves himself.
It doesn't seem to be in a talking mood. Weaken it so they can move it. The Galliard chuffs. They can agree on that. Even if it's just back across the Gauntlet where it can go back to whatever it was it was doing before it decided to come frolic around in Weaver territory. There's no 'why' when you're dealing with the Wyld.
Pokes-the-Mind's_EyeMilton sighs just a little when the creature doesn't come out of the store, and no one engages it. He's going to have to do this the sneaky way... Which is fine! So, when he realizes Combat isn't imminent he begins to make his way around towards the side or back of the building in search of another entrance! It would appear he has a little time to take some extra time so why the hell not?
Radiant HonorFor a moment or two, all Avery can do is stare at Phoebe.
It seemed mechanical. It's not. It seemed of the Weaver, creating its body from consumer goods mass-produced all over the world in enormous factories and shipped here in diesel-chugging trucks. It isn't. It was frightening people, hurting them, but it is not the Beast of War.
It's the Wyld.
Avery's eyes snap back as it rushes towards them. Her hackles go up, and she bares her teeth. She thrusts her neck out, giving it a sharp bark, as it backs off. Hector is bristling beside her, and Phoebe is telling them it doesn't want to be spoken with or reasoned with; it has asserted its territory. It was just getting all the non-Wyld creatures out. Of course.
She sees Milton sneaking around, not telling anyone he's with what's going on, no signal, and she shoots him a wary look. He spoke of just blowing things up in a crowded shopping area without knowing what they were dealing with. Milton has officially been declared, at least for the purposes of this evening, a loose cannon. Not a team player. Avery does not bristle with rage at this, but she does watch him, and then she looks at Phoebe again.
"Use gifts," she tells the Theurge. And looks to Hector. With him, she doesn't bother to say a word. He knows, from that look: their main focus has not changed. Protect the squishies. Avery chuffs a breath out. "No kill," she adds, though even this may be unnecessary when speaking of a Wyld spirit to an Uktena. "Not yet."
She looks over at Milton, having decided now what to do with him. "Stay. Need know more." A beat. "No fire-crash-boom now." Or explosion... at least not right now. Whatever she can convey in this form, this throat. She needs to at least give Phoebe a chance.
"We distract. Taunt. Harry. Crescent Moon work. Ready?"
-tgif-It doesn't matter if they're ready or not. The wolves circling, the wolves baring their teeth and communicating to each other in short chops and barks: the It has had enough. It brings its massive fists of twisted bicycles and splintered skateboards up, up, all the way over its head --
-- and down. So hard that a black crack pops across the roof. So hard that dust and debris rain down on them. Overhead lights flicker. The ground trembles.
And then: It charges.
Siren of Persephone[+5]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
Radiant Honor[+9]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )
Pokes-the-Mind's_Eye[+6]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )
Echoes of the Lost"No kill," the hulking Galliard confirms.
He rears up tall as he can go when the Wyld-creature charges and roars out a challenge. The Garou equivalent of a YOU SHALL NOT PASS.
[+8]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
Siren of Persephone[sorry, my modifier would be +6 because moonbound!]
-tgif-[sportsequipmentgorilla: +8]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )
-tgif-[roll order:
Hector 14
Milton 11
Phoebe 11
Avery 10
Gorilla 10]
-tgif-[Gorilla's declare:
1. Shockwave! AoE effect knocking everyone off their feet unless they score 4 or more succ on dex+ath.
R1. RAMPAGE! Charge whoever's in front of it.
R2. THROW SHIT! Not literally, fortunately. But: throwing heavy merchandise around at random targets.
R3. Again!]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye"New Plan, we'll just play Punchout with a metal Gorilla in the Parking Lot!" Says Milton even as he puts on a smile and begins shifting forms!
[-1 Rage to go to Hispo!
1a. Bite
1b. Bite]
-tgif-[ACTUAL order: avery - hector - phoebe - milton - gorilla.]
Siren of Persephone[Reflexive: Hope this thing reacts to spirit-y gifts!
1. Spirit Snare: (rolled as an attack, which can be defended against normally, reduces spirit WP by 2 for all combat actions for rest of scene (doesn't stack because STUPID =[ ))]
Echoes of the Lostoh shit lords of the apocalypse
1: claw the thing just to see what happens
R1: block the charge!
R2: CATCH SOME SHIT
R3: CATCH SOME MORE SHIT
Radiant Honor[Reflexive:
"Remember! Weaken only!"
1. bite! called shot, fore...leg. arm. maybe if she cripples an arm or something it won't AoE?
R1. same thing to the other leg. arm. thing.
R2. take a hit for phoebe!]
Radiant Honor[1. dex + brawl / +1 diff]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Radiant Honor[damage!
str + 1 + 1 + 2 (eagle's beak) + suxx -1 / will pull at incap]
Dice: 12 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
-tgif-[ack! soak!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Echoes of the Lost[1: dex + brawl: CLAW TIME]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 6 )
Echoes of the Lost[str + 4 + 1 (claw) + 5]
Dice: 13 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 8 )
-tgif-[owie!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Siren of Persephone[spirit snare: -1G, int+occult+1 diff 8]
Dice: 7 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 5) ( fail )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye[I'ma Bite! 1a. ]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (1, 1, 4, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye[Dmg!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
-tgif-[ow!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 4, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
-tgif-[SHOCKWAVE!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Siren of Persephone[dex+ath+1+WP!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 5, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Echoes of the Lost[dex + ath: ACK]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 1
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye[Trying to stand]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (5, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Radiant Honor[dex + ath! sorry!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 1
Radiant Honor[R1. called shot to other leg-arm!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
Radiant Honor[damage!]
Dice: 11 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 6 )
-tgif-[ouch!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 4 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye[I believe he is trying to get up and take his second action at... -2 Dice so...]
Dice: 2 d10 TN5 (1, 2) ( fail )
-tgif-[CHAAAARGE.]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Echoes of the Lost[NOPENOPENOPE]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
-tgif-[I FLING POO.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
-tgif-[POO SMASH! dam +4]
Dice: 11 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 6 )
Radiant Honor[NOPE.]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 5 )
-tgif-[I FLING MOAR POO.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
-tgif-[dam +3]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
-tgif-[POO PWINK >:[ ]
Echoes of the Lost[did a window just fly open?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )
Echoes of the Lost[R3: switching to a claw!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Echoes of the Lost[+3]
Dice: 11 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
-tgif-[soak!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )
-tgif-[Donkey Kong:
1. Shockwave
R1. Climb shelves
R2. Bust through roof!
R3. FREEEEE WILLY!]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye[1. Bite!
1R. Bite Again!]
Siren of Persephone[maybe Command Spirit will work from the floor?: SIT DOWN!
-tgif-It's something of an ... experience, fighting a creature like this. It comes at them like a train wreck from hell: a gnashing mish-mash of merchandise and spare parts, warping and bending under its own weight. It leaves cracks on the floor with every step. Huge and lumbering as it is, it moves with an uncanny speed of its own -- so large, each swing of its enormous arms so wide, that it easily crosses the distance between.
The Garou lunge at it. To subdue, not to kill. They find themselves instantly caught up in a storm of debris. Sportswear and tent flaps bat against their faces. Every bite clanks their teeth painfully against hockey-stick shafts and baseball bats. Every vicious claw sweeps loose some clattering sports-paraphernalia: bike helmets go flying, exercise balls pop with ear-splitting BANGs.
Some of their number find themselves overwhelmed by the noise, the chaos, the sheer shock of the creature bringing its fists down down. The rest of them take up the slack, taking blows for their compatriots, standing in the way of freight-train rushes. They keep at it, harrying it the way wolves do, biting, clawing, chipping away at its strength until,
sensing a losing battle, sensing territory lost,
the jumbled creature slams its fists down again, knocks them all flat again, and leaps upward. Starts to climb for the roof, and escape.
Echoes of the Lost[1: clawing worked pretty well last time
R1: claw again!
R2: … tackle? where's it think it's going?]
-tgif-[AWAY. AWAY FROM YOU MEAN PEOPLE, THAT'S WHERE.]
Radiant HonorSkis and bicycles and skateboards feel strange in the teeth.
Avery is not quite sure what to make of it, only that she doesn't want to hurt this thing. She truly, deeply does not want to harm it. Beyond, she realizes, even her own control of her strength; without the righteous fury of fighting true evil behind her attacks, it seems she cannot do the harm she needs to do.
But oh: she can stop it from hurting others. And that, she will do. And then she sees it edging back, still wanting to bash them away but wanting to run.
"STAY!" she barks at it, forcefully.
[No rage left!
1a. Nip!
1b. Nip!
1c. Nip! +WP]
Radiant Honor[1a!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (2, 2, 2, 4, 7) ( success x 1 )
Radiant Honor[Dmg!]
Dice: 9 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
-tgif-[STAHP.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Radiant Honor[Reflexive Leadership! Charisma + Leadership + Falcon + PB]
Dice: 14 d10 TN7 (1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 7 )
Radiant Honor[Rerolling that 10]
Dice: 1 d10 TN7 (4) ( fail )
Radiant Honor[1b!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (2, 3, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 3 ) Re-rolls: 1
Radiant Honor[Dmg!]
Dice: 11 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
-tgif-[also, a redeclare:
1. Shockwave
R1. CHARGE AVERY. I'M STAYING.
R2. BASH AVERY. SEE HOW WELL I'M STAYING.
R3. Run amok. Possibly charge someone who gets in the way.
a soak!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
Radiant Honor[1c!]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (4, 4, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Radiant Honor[dmg!]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 4 )
-tgif-Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )
Echoes of the Lost[1: CLAW TIME]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
Echoes of the Lost[+1]
Dice: 9 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 8 )
-tgif-[ :[! ]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
-tgif-[annnnd it's out. i will write a quick post!]
-tgif-It's a wyld creature.
It's a wild creature. And like most wild creatures, it fights when its territory is encroached on. It fights when it feels threatened. It fights when it is cornered, but if at all possible, it will try to escape.
It tries to escape. It wants to. Avery can see it; they can all see it. It's in the way it wavers a little in place, its balance swaying back before it charges again. It's in the way it tenses, shifting those random collections of stuff it body is formed of, preparing for some vertical leap. For some great Houdini act.
The Garou know they can't allow this. A creature like this running amok on the streets of Aurora: that's a Veil breach as big as god. They redouble their efforts, harrying it, biting at it, shouting at it, turning its attention from the rafters back to them. It slams its fists together, charges forward into their teeth, and --
-- they put it down. Their claws and their teeth find something, some purchase (...hah! no pun intended) in the chaos: some trigger-point, some hinge, some fulcrum that, once disrupted, heralds the end.
The creature falls apart. Boxes tumbling down, pool tables crashing loud as pianos, a bike bouncing awkwardly on a wheel before clattering over, innumerable footballs and baseballs and basketballs and volleyballs hailing down from the air. In the end, all that remains is a white-hot core. A compacted, amorphous entity that they can't even quite look at. Even weakened, it glows too bright. Even brought low, it vibrates too fast. Even half-dormant as it is, it bristles if the Garou approach: wary, wounded, perhaps understandably resentful.
It got here first. It found a den and it gathered all that Stuff and it was happy here, it just wanted everyone else to Get Out and it was fine. They were the ones that busted in and beat it up. How dare they. Rude!
Radiant HonorAvery feels no rage. Avery feels a bit peckish, randomly. And she feels... sorry for the spirit. Ashamed. It can't understand. She can't make it.
She looks from its light, its pain, and turns her eyes on Phoebe.
Echoes of the LostEchoes of the Lost goes skittering through the remains of its materialized form as his hind feet find no purchase on the waxed tile floor but he does not fall and he does not lay into the embodied spirit, possessed objects, whatever it is this thing truly is to send it back to the other side entirely.
For a time he stands jaws parted nostrils flared claws extended as he grapples with the two halves of the same instinct: to protect and to kill. This thing does not belong here even if it meant no harm.
Nearly nine feet tall and over four hundred pounds now he does not look like a creature capable of mercy or empathy. His Rage is nearly sapped. His eyes are fire-yellow in amongst the black fur that only appears in his war form. They seek out his brethren and find the alphas of the Desert Oracles and the Falcons whole. Find the Glass Walker still in one piece.
This is Siren of Persephone's show now. He only stands by in case it rises again.
Pokes-the-Mind's-EyeHe was pleased when it fell, not out of any sense of malice or hatred, simply because it fell... They were no longer in danger, the threat had passed! The how and the why are far less of a concern to the ragabash right now.
Everyone looks at Phoebe and he does too, since it seems to be the thing to do!
Siren of PersephoneIt found a den and it settled in and then all these two-legged mouthbreathers came, these dudebros looking for cool ski hats and soccer moms looking for, well, soccer balls. People came and they encroached on its territory and finally, today of all days, when a handful of Garou happened to be wandering past, it had had enough.
Isn't that how it usually goes? People are destructive and it's up to them, the Garou, to do what they can to help create some kind of balance.
Unfortunately, sometimes there are no compromises. Sometimes the solution to living next to noisy, destructive neighbors is to move. Or be moved.
Phoebe, sitting on the floor all this time watching stronger Garou work after her attempt at using her gifts failed, pushes herself up to her feet. She looks at each of them, Milton to Hector and finally to Avery, and she gives them an understanding, sympathetic look.
Then she goes forward. The ball of energy, that amorphous entity that has caused so much damage and wreaked so much havoc, hovers sullenly. Its brightness forces Phoebe's head down, but she would have lowered it respectfully, anyway. When she's a few feet away, she speaks to the Wyld entity in the language of spirits. And in that language she apologizes, but it just can't stay here. It's unfair, she knows, but she will find it a new place, a place that she and her pack will guard vigilently. It will be a place where the People cannot hope to interfere, and there it will be free.
"Come with me. I will find you a new place."
[charisma+leadership+PB+1, not sure if spirit magnet plays a part!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 2
-tgif-The blistering core of light flares briefly, threateningly brighter as Phoebe approaches. But then even that little strength seems to give out. It pulses dimmer again, duller. For a long time it's impossible to tell if it listens. If it is even capable of hearing. It's hardly even a spirit as the Garou understand it: it has no true shape, no true form. Nothing but a certain primitive will, and the apparent ability to shape, to possess, to animate.
After a very long time, a tiny, distrusting reply:
new place ... has Things to pushmove?
Echoes of the LostHis trust in the spirit-talker's abilities eclipses his distrust of the spirit's complacency. Might be that he too speaks the tongue of the spirits and he can understand what is happening between the Black Fury and the Wyld-spirit.
But Hector melts from his war form back into his human skin. His hair has busted free from its binding and hangs wild around his shoulders. All of his clothes are where they were. On his face is an expression of sympathy that was not present in his Crinos skin.
He nearly speaks to suggest a place they can go but then flinches and brings his fist up to his mouth to let Phoebe handle it. His eyes flick towards the ceiling and the threat of closed-circuit security systems up there and then seek out the Glass Walker.
Siren of PersephoneThough it likely doesn't understand the expression, Phoebe beams at the entity. "Yes," she says simply. She can think of several likely places to deposit the Wyld spirit, places that are wide open and free of the humanity that has forced it out of this place. And places that have a little of it, but are tended.
"What sorts of things would you like to pushmove? Things like this?" she asks, gesturing around them at the devastated sports store. It's been here for a while. Maybe it's gotten used to the tools of humans.
-tgif-yes. yesyesyes. things with moveparts. manymany moveparts. things that POP. things that bounce-bounce-bounce. The spirit -- small now, diminished from the Garou's ... efforts -- glows brighter at the very thought. things that glimmershine. things that dripfall. loud things. sharp-pop things. many things to pushmove.
Siren of Persephone"I know the place," she says to it. And then, turning to the others, "It wants to stay in a place like this. If we take it to Cold Crescent it'll be protected. My sisters and I can watch over it." She's not asking, but she's not exactly telling, either. For almost as long as 1999 Broadway has been a sept Phoebe has drifted between the two in Denver, helping both Cold Crescent and Forgotten Questions, but it's no secret where her heart lies. Even now, she helps in the vigil over the building, commanding and drawing and cajoling and asking other Theurges to come with her to help maintain certain parts of it, but she doesn't consider it her sept. Not yet.
So. Cold Crescent is not currently a formal sept and so does not currently have formal leadership. There's no one to ask permission for...anything, really. Phoebe could waltz in with this Wyld spirit in tow and drop it off, leaving it to push and pull and play and throw and POP and bounce-bounce-bounce, but that feels like kind of a dick move to her. She wants to give the Garou who have been with her through that vigil a heads up, at least, that they're about to have a permanent guest.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye"I don't see a problem, it can toss people out the window, and push desks down the elevator shaft, rip out the wires and plumbing and make a giant ball to roll down the stairs! Sounds like a blast to me!" Says Milton with a bright grin, and the unfortunate truth of it was that Milton actually was okay with all that, so long as he wasn't attacked it'd probably work out just fine.
-tgif-It doesn't understand Garou-speak. It doesn't understand human-speak either. It quivers in place, pulsing bright-and-dim, vibrating sometimes, rolling on its side, changing shape and size,
waiting. Waiting for the wolves to converse. Waiting for a solution to present itself.
Or just waiting for things to pushmove. Could be that, too.
Echoes of the LostBeyond his presence at the stand against Beloved Horror over a month ago Hector has not made himself known at 1999 Broadway. He has stood and listened to others as they've spoken of what to do about the urban sept and its closure and he has told Anubis-Sight what he thinks. He thinks a lot of things but has not acted on any of the things he thinks. These conversations have all taken place within the safety of the wilderness. For someone who belongs to a tribe known and notorious for their possession of secrets he is a terrible liar.
He's getting better at keeping his thoughts to himself but that is not the same as lying.
Fighting gives way to planning and the Galliard stands with his arms across his chest listening. His brow tightens and gives way to a frown as he thinks. He sees no problem having the Wyld-spirit at the building either. But he himself has not been at the building. Not even to check in. Not even to lend his claws or his advice or to bear witness to the things that happen there that he might tell the rest of the Nation of them.
When he exhales it's a deep sigh heavier than one would expect from a creature of his age and rank. He won't be this age or rank for much longer. He'll stand to challenge for a higher rank within a moon and he has a child on the way. Age doesn't mean shit anymore.
He gives his eyes back to Phoebe before he says, in the language only spirits and those who talk to the spirits can understand: "We have a place for you. Many things to pushmove."
And then he says in a voice they can all understand: "Alright. Let's bring it back with us."
Radiant HonorAvery has
no idea
what the spirit is saying.
She can see it flare, and she tenses, the only one now in a furred form, and she bristles. She has not let the light fade from her fur, she has not let down her guard. Wyld spirits are unpredictable. Wyld spirits -- as they just saw -- can be very powerful. And now Phoebe is closer to it, more vulnerable to it, as she speaks in that strange, incomprehensible language of the spirit realm. The spirit pulses, dims, wavers, shrinks and grows. It makes her dizzy to look at it for long, and she sees things in it that are there and are not there and have yet to be anywhere at all.
It wobbles around excitedly after Phoebe talks again, questioning it. Avery doesn't understand that, either, but she senses something like excitement.
Phoebe turns to them, telling them: Cold Crescent. Avery blinks, startled. She is silent for a little while. The Uktena, whose opinion on cold Crescent has become at least somewhat well-known, speaks to the spirit. Then speaks to all of them. And Avery -- well.
She is in hispo, but she would smile if she were in homid. So she changes. Still wearing those grey slacks, those black boots, that pretty pink sweater. She is smiling, and she is bleeding a little bit from her side, which makes the sweater and slacks slightly less pretty, but no matter. Her hands are folded in front of her. "We'll all watch over it, Siren-yuf," she assures the Theurge. Javed has spoken for the Falcons before; Avery does so now. She does not think Javed would turn away this spirit.
Her luminous eyes go to the spirit, for as long as she can bear its shifting forms. And she agrees, in one word, with Hector:
"Let's."
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