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Out in Radnor, some distance up the Main Line and out of Philadelphia Proper, at the end of a posh cul de sac, lies what looks from the outside to be an old country home from the region's colonial era past. The facade does not hold true on the inside, however. Inside, it functions as an office building of sorts. The foyer is marble with plenty of brass fixtures, sweeping dual staircases framing the central reception desk, arcing up to the mezzanine above. A large portrait of Ludwig himself, all Byronic and broody, looms behind the desk with a little brass plaque as though he's already a century dead.
Three floors, two wings, and a central veranda, the building contains housing, washrooms, laundry facilities, a computer and science lab, and of course The Library. The invitation Ludwig sends along comes by way of a Lune cordially inviting both parties to come meet about the Bancroft wound at lunch time on Sunday. He'll have food and drink prepared, come as you are, etc. For all that his approach and aesthetic is posh European, he doesn't seem to expect that from everyone else in his life. So there's that, at least. He may be a prig, but he's not a complete asshole.
Once the pair arrive separately or together, Ludwig meets them at the front entrance and would lead them both back to the library where some light sandwiches, charcuterie, and mixed fruit are all set out with iced water, some sodas, and of beer. Beer at lunch is not at all culturally verboten in Austria. Maybe no one told him that's a no no for a professional lunch in the US.
Salome arrives at the Altman Foundation and it seems like she's been walking for quite a bit, slightly weather battered along with two floppy blood hounds, on a soft brown, the other also sporting a darker shade of black on his abdomen. The pibble with her is dark gray with some darker spot and is yawning when she's greeting at the door.
"Do you have a towel so they don't ruin your floors or carpeting?" she says, wiping a bit of the soft rain from her forehead. She's wearing a pair of black jeans, worn hiking boots and a leather jacket that so worn, someone might expect it to fall apart. She comes in, easily limiting where the puppies go with just a command from her lips that sound like a soft 'boof'. "Pleased to meet you, Dr Ludwig."
Jano arrives in the passenger seat of a pick-up truck and does not necessarily look as if he were here for a professional lunch. He takes his time when he is dropped off, talking to the man in the wide-brimmed hat behind the wheel for several minutes before looping around to the bed and removing a large backpack which he slings over one shoulder. He is quiet as he is invited into the foundation, but his eyes take in the surroundings rather intently.
When Ludwig greets him he offers a firm handshake and once they are within the library he accepts the offer of a beer, opting for something generic if there is any choice offered. "I brought you something as well," he says, his voice somewhat tight, but the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. He sets the backpack down and unzips a pocket, fishing out two glass jars filled with something black. "From my tree. Last year, of course."
"And you, Miss." Ludwig offers after the introduction. "I will fetch some towels in a moment, but don't fret about the dogs. They come by their dirt honestly. If you don't mind my inquiring, how are their prey drives? We have a very small rescue kitten here, and if they're prone to strike at something small and squirmy, we'll want to keep them apart."
Ludwig accepts Jano's handshake, of course, returning it with equal grim enthusiasm. The Austrians love their handshakes, it's true. "Did you." There's a note of surprise in his voice, enough to make it seem genuine. "That's most kind. Is this the maple syrup I hear so much about? Or something else?" Ludwig holds one of the jars up to examine the contents a little more closely. Once he has his answer, he excuses himself briefly to go and fetch towels for the boofs. "Make yourselves at home. Do have a look about and a bite to eat."
The beers are all European. Because of course they are. Sorry, Jano.
"They are empowered through gifts to be packmates, so they aren't going after a kitten. I'll tell them to behave and they will." The mere mention of a kitten brights a bright smile to Salome's face, she's clearly happy to hear. She waits for the towels and dry the dog's feet before venturing to the prepared area "Thank you for the towels and having me over." The only thing Salome plucks from is the charcuterie, which she immediately share pieces with the dogs.
She does consult the titles of the books with a keen interest, casually strolling through the titles, to see if there's something that might draw her attention in a significant fashion. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister." she direct toward Jano when they're both settled in, avoiding any interruption to the conversation between the two other Urathas.
"Jam. Black cherry jam," Jano offers the clarification. "A lot easier to harvest than syrup, in the end."
Jano spends some time deciding on a beer, since he doesn't recognize any of their names, and eventually just picks one based on the color of the label. He does not necessarily do a very good job of making himself at home, as he does not sit or make comfortable other than leaving the backpack where it is.
"Kills Crow," Jano says to Salome, at the 'Mister,' "but Jano is fine unless we are planning on running for office together." In his dark denim pants, extremely worn cowboy boots, and black turtleneck with tousled, wild hair, he does not look like he is about to run for anything that requires a certain--look. "I have never owned a painting of myself," he remarks quietly to Salome before Ludwig returns from the other room.
The library, from what can be deduced from the spines, is heavily occult focused. There are purely academic texts, mostly focused on Archaeology, particularly pre-Roman, Roman, and Iron Age Europe. Most of those in German. The occult section covers spirits and ghosts in roughly equal measure, and features no fewer than eight languages. They span the centuries, too. It's quite the collection. Notably, and perhaps disturbingly, there is a section of very black leather books with very conspicuous read embellishments on the spines and big fucking swastikas on them. It may reassure them both that the collection is very much sequestered from the rest of the library. But, yeah. Ludwig has a nazi library.
When he returns, and it's not very long that he's gone really, he's sporting several white puffy towels all neatly folded from the laundry. They're offered out with as much of a smile as a guy with a painting of himself is likely to offer.
"I enjoy jam on my toast in the mornings, Mister Kills Crow. Your gift will be very much appreciated in the weeks to come. I am grateful." Those formalities seen to, Ludwig turns to Salome and her puppers. "Then they're even welcome on the furniture, once they're tidied up a bit. If I can't persuade you both to sit, perhaps we should get straight to business so as not to fatigue our knees." It's not spoken with annoyance or even an implied expectation that they do sit. Simply suggesting that not sitting implies intended brevity.
Salome is obviously thankful when the towels are delivered and once the dogs are clean, she instruct them to sit and around her at which ever table there is and feed them part of the charcuterie she picks for herself. She does claim a bottle of beer for herself, though it seems to be done in the name of curiosity as she seem taken by the labels and the make of the beer before setting it down before. "Yeti, Sasquatch and Bib." She introduce the dogs, who seem all to content to sit and rest from their travel today.
"Your library is elaborate and impressive, if a touch worrisome, I have to say." A beat as her eyes return to wander. "Not that I'm a consummate reader most of the time, I did spend a significant amount of time living out of mundane society before returning to the city."
"And I'll remember well, Jano. I'm Salome and I don't particularly plan on running for any offices, unless Taylor request that I do for some unholy reasoning."
Jano has indeed wandered about a bit to inspect the various titles, however he does not seem so interested as to pull out a book and start reading on the spot. Instead, he sips from his beer and keeps his other hand tucked in his pocket. He does not approach the section where the Nazi titles are kept, but he does stare in their direction for a moment.
When Ludwig returns he refocuses his attention on the company and quite intentionally takes a seat, though he does not comment on the choice. His gaze falls to the dogs, which he watches passively while he listens to the other two speak.
"Despite their reputation, they did not invent horror," Jano says, still only watching the dogs, "Americans like to decry their crimes, but choose to forget who their inspiration for those crimes were--Americans." Briefly, Jano smiles. It only touches the corner of his mouth, but it's enough for teeth to show. He looks up then, his gaze settling for a moment on Salome, eyebrows knit in thought, before he looks back to Ludwig, "But your collection is...vast, I agree. Is this where you intend to start?" He lifts his beer, to gesture to the many shelves.
"I must assume I am related to Nazis," Ludwig admits aside to Jano as he calls out the room's elephant. "I am Austrian. My family prolific and our family records disorderly as a result of the war. It stems to reason, though. Why should my family be any different?" Ludwig glances aside at Jano again, attempting to impress some unspoken point. Or admission, perhaps.
"Those volumes once belonged to Karl Maria Wiligut. Once Brigadefuhrer for the SS and one of Himmler's personal staff. He was an historian, an archaeologist, an Irminist, and an occultist of no small renown. He invented his own runic alphabet, analogous to Futhark. He tried to paint a pastiche of historical legitimacy to the fabled and foretold future of the Third Reich. That the true Christ was born in Saxony, and the like. He'd been in a mental institution once, which when Himmler learned of it spelled Herr Wiligut's retirement from the SS. He died in 1946, peacefully in his bed, having helped to legitimize the war. The holocaust. All of it. Sadly, his influence in the occult is still felt in Austria to this day. And further abroad. I cannot call the eradication of his particular vein of occult racial supremacy my life's work, but it has surely filled a great many very satisfying hours, Herr Kills Crow."
Ludwig then clears his throat politely and nods contritely across to Salome, "So. Yes. Deeply concerning. Which is why I am seeking his legacy out and erasing it. Sadly, that often requires working with his writings. In any case." A look back to Juno, "That is where I wish to start, yes. I also recently came into possession of a repository of writings that I have yet to have bound, but they will augment the library. Aid our research. I would imagine we can all agree that knowing as much as the books can tell us before venturing into the wound is a sensible first step. Yes?" A glance between the two is offered.
"Well, that's an important project you're working on, I'm glad you are." Salome concedes with a nod, letting her hand dangle from the side of her seat where the Bloodhound she introduced as Yeti gently nudge her hand. "I ought to seek out some possible source of knowledge, eventually, from my lodge." she ponder for a brief moment. "I think learning from these books is the right first step to work on, wherever the next few lead us." she rubs her free hand fingers together in anticipation.
"I was a bit rusty on the research side, but I recently just got my appetite for it back up. should be able to make sense of the knowledge we find." Salome wiggle her fingers and causes her dog to sneeze.
"When do you plan on starting this? Do you have any rules or preference with how we work within your library?"
"None of us are our ancestors. Most of us aren't even who we were a decade ago." Jano glances again at Salome, and then to Ludwig. "But I understand the dedication. I understand the importance of responding to the lives our ancestors lived--and I understand honour. As to the Wound...nighzu nu namzu."
"The project and intention is yours, Dr. Altman. I am willing to approach it in whichever order you wish." He leans forward then, pressing one elbow into his knee and taking a quick sip from his beer as he looks back to the dogs thoughtfully.
"Well. This is how we attacked the wound in the Prater district of Vienna, and it worked then. And they saw fit to brand me for it. So while knowledge may not be wisdom, knowledge can be wisely applied as it happens." Ludwig glances at the books in the library and scratches at his chin for a moment.
"So. If you're deferring to me, scouring the library for useful information on the Wound's spirits and the spirits around it seems a good place to start. Visiting the area around Bancroft as I did to see what there is to see might not be a bad idea, however. We all bring to a search our own prejudices and preconceptions. And I am certain your tribal outlooks differ from my own quite wildly. Anything new you learn, we can filter through our research and add it to the useful list of facts."
"I rather laid out my strategy in my posting. Make allies of rival courts. Get their help in containing the wound, and in containing the magath that are growing more powerful within it. Once we have bans, banes, allies... Once we have the wound fighting itself? Then I imagine we could stand a chance at toppling Usum for good, and starting to properly cleanse the wound. This is how it was done in Vienna, but I of course can not promise that things will go as they did prior. Flexibility and additional ideas and options would be welcome."
He then answers Salome, "Whatever assistance your Lodge can provide would be welcome. I am simply offering the gift of my experience in dealing with this problem. I do not claim to be an expert in the craft of wound-cleansing, however. I'd like to begin tomorrow morning. And will do so, whether or not you are able to come. We must begin, as there's quite literally no time to waste in the matter. It's only going to become worse if we let it. As for rules? There are a few, but nothing that shouldn't be common sense to most." He'll cover them later, it seems.
"The Lodge of the Companion's lore should, at the very least, provide something more tangible in terms of hunting, as it is their specialties. That and sharing the hunt..." she looks down at her beastly, floppy eared packmates and rubs their ears in turn as at least one of them start snoring, though she stir him out of it. Only to received a 'boof' of reprimand from it. "but that may require some time, as there are not many in the region per se."
"However, If some of the enemies we encounter during the hunt prove too difficult to attack, the lodge's sacred hunt is efficient at making our numbers count." she explains.
Jano turns from watching the dogs to listen to Ludwig as he speaks. His face is relatively placid as he does so, though at one point he raises his eyebrows very slightly. Otherwise, he merely nods in acknowledgement and continues to sip from his beer. He leans back in his seat once more and lifts one hand to run his fingers absently through his hair--which probably explains its somewhat unkempt appearance.
He then listens just as quietly to Salome, and also turns to watch her, focusing on her features as he speaks, and still he retains his silence as he listens. It is only after a few moments of considering what each of them has to say that he eventually speaks. "I know very little about the Companions, but I agree with Dr. Altman that any additional support and knowledge would be invaluable. I also share his concerns over our timeline. I am never a fan of rushing anything, but with this problem, we may not have the choice and--"
He turns back to Ludwig, "--I am deferring to you. I am offering my support and that is why I am here. Where my opinions differ are not challenges." He pauses, breaking his thoughts with another sip from his beer, the last one. He sets the bottle down and pushes himself to stand. "The pups are howling for war. They are incensed by loss and they have not been given the opportunity to wail their grief. They may never receive it, but the grief will only grow greater and make us weaker if it is not addressed. It is a difficult thing to merely...teach...but I know the techniques of our enemies, and I know that they seek to fill hollowed hearts." He looks back down to the dogs again, staring at them hard for a minute as if they were the keepers of some old secrets as much as the books on the shelves are, "Let's provide them with meat before they try to eat ash."
"To clarify, yeah I'm deferring to you too. I'm way too much of a fish out of water to take the lead here." she confirms.
Ludwig's turn to watch Kills Crow and listen, frowning thoughtfully in places. Resting dour face. It's a problem. He worries at his lip for a moment before speaking himself, "I would nonetheless welcome your opinions." Ludwig ticks his head forward and lifts his eyebrows a bit just to impress the point, and then resumes his prior reserved bearing.
"I arrived to this situation as it is. I was not here for the events that caused it. I do not know the people or the players. But I do know grief, and I do know loss, and I do know how easily our young are tempted down the primrose path of Anshega. That's why I do all of this, in fact." A vague gesture around himself is given, implying the building, its contents, and all of the craft and artifice that goes into it. Even that ridiculous painting out there.
"My approach to spirits and to my Auspice is as a scientist. Clinical. Distant. Deliberate. I lack a certain bedside manner. I do not have a way with people. People do not find me comforting. But if all the young need is to face the wound their losses spawned, that I can help them to do. I am not much of a nurturer, I am afraid."
The tiny kitten sleeping in an olde tyme doctor's bag on Ludwig's desk chooses this precise moment to stretch, yawn, and let out a crackly, broken little mew as if to call the man out on his Byronic bullshit.
Salome, proud owner of the Beast Talker Gift, turns toward the little noise with a warm, happy expression and wide eyes. The Meninna wiggles her finger in greetings, making a similar noise in return. Only saying hi to the young animal. After the display of strange, joyful noise is done, clearly she heard Ludwig's words there and return her attention to him.
"My deference is about the research at this very moment, the books and acquisition of knowledge that we're trying to find. I can be persuasive with people and animals, but I am detached from modern society by the life I've led for a long time." She explains. "My approach to the spirits always relies on knowing the terrain, the concept and events that spawned them, I know of the Wounding of Bancroft, but I didn't experience it. I know of the Host that assaulted the city for a moment, but did not make it here in time to repel the assault."
A deep, calming breath later. "I am a stranger in a familiar place. But I have a pack, I have a family and I work better with people, cooperation is going to be the key and I am good at that, so maybe I'll be able to foster that approach to this problem."
"We experienced it," Jano says, walking away for a moment--but only long enough to retrieve another beer which he starts on fresh. He turns back to the other two. He glances toward the kitten, and although he does not speak to it, he does not seem to find speaking to it unusual enough to note. But he does eventually return his gaze to Salome, considering, thoughtful, but otherwise still occluded. "Having experienced it we were also unable to repel the assault. I do not hold any lack of punctuality against you either, because having experienced it, I do not think you could have repelled it."
He takes another a longer draught of the beer and returns to where he was seated, resting one hand on the back of the chair. "Comfort isn't necessarily our jobs, Dr. Altman. Seeing what we see, comfort can be difficult to provide in any case. But if we move decisively we may be able to keep them on the right path, and that is an even greater concern to me than the Wound itself--which I am certain you can imagine will be much more difficult to handle should the cubs hunt on a darker trail."
A short pause. "I'm ready when you are."
The kitten mews a little more insistently, and frankly doesn't look at all old enough to be weaned. Its eyes have clearly only recently opened, and it still looks more like a fuzzy bean than a proper feline. The continued mewling has Ludwig flashing a brief and apologetic smile and heading over to the kitten to scoop it up and head over to the microwave. A little carton of milk is plopped in and warmed so that he can fetch the eye dropper and prepare to feed the little thing. She's tiny.
"You are correct. I chose the wrong word. I suppose I can teach a thing or two about grief and dying. And help them navigate those waters somewhat. It's just that being from the Lodge of Death doesn't really incline me to coddling people about it. It's going to happen, so get to work on the things that matter to you." Ludwig makes a gesture of his hand towards Jano, implying this sentiment is similar to what the other fellow expressed in some fashion.
"The rest of your pack are welcome to make use of the resources here, Miss. And likewise your own, Mister Kills Crow. For whatever matters our resources might assist you in. And hopefully I will be seeing you both in the morning as we begin our work. Our doors open at 8:00am but I am usually here and working by 6:00. You may arrive any time after that. We do serve three meals a day here, so if you could share any dietary restrictions with the front desk on your way out, they will be accommodated."
Salome watches the process of preparing the food for the kitten with riveted attention toward it. She shakes her head slightly, before turning to Jano. "Who's your pack? I'm with the Watchdogs." she offers first, as she stretches her legs out, resting them ontop of the pibble's back. No protest from the dog.
"And I'll speak with the front desk to let them know, but if you serve The People often, I think the limitation should be relatively common." Salome says, she runs her finger over her hair, testing for the remaining dampness.
Jano cocks a brow at the word 'coddling' but otherwise doesn't comment on it. "Six is reasonable. I'll have toast with you," Jano says, still standing by the chair. He recognizes the direction of the conversation and dips down to zip up his backpack.
"The Cardinal Wind, who stood at the vanguard, and whose leader Askthathim, alongside Sagrikhanzer, Suathakh, and Uhurdur fell in glorious battle against the Anshega." He meets her eyes as he recites those names, each one spoken with focus and clarity on the pronunciation of their deed names.
He hoists the backpack over shoulder then.
"It was a pleasure, Miss. Mister Kills Crow. Auf wiedersehen." Ludwig's focus is on the cat and the eye dropper. He's clearly distracted and, but for the requirements of societal politeness, he's already moved on to the next task on his list of tasks. The eternal bucket list of the Lodge of Death. He begins mumbling to the cat in childish German, bouncing it a little while he goes to fill the eye dropper and resume the feedings.
Apparently they can see themselves out.
"I'll be there too." She says to Ludwig's intention, though her standing up cause far more of a ruckus than she intends do, what with three dog following suit.
When Jano list his fallen packmate, she listens and makes her best attempt to commit the names to memory, at the very least. She doesn't speak, possibly because there's nothing she could really say.
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