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ST:
Yakaon House had been more active since the Wounding, as much a place for Forsaken without somewhere to go as a place to take some measure of comfort in (remaining) numbers, or to simply be among one another.
It was often home to organic conversations about the nature of what the Tribes faced, sometimes loud and fractious conversations, as had been the case literally every week since the Wounding itself.
Several Uratha filled the space there now, not for any planned meeting so much as the happenstance of several of them being there at once, a few outside, a couple in the kitchen, a handful in the lounge, some asleep in their guest rooms. And practically none of them suspected anything at all.
Jolene:
The day before she'd have likely not shown up here, 'accidentally' being at a Tur that was out in the open was different than the purposefulness that was Yakaon house. An acknowledgement of her place in the community just by being here was made, something she'd have been unlikely to do before a conversation with Dr. Ludwig Altman that had come full circle, they weren't meant to be alone.
It was her first time here, and like many a stray, feral creatures, she watched the space with hyper-vigilance, always marking the coming and going of others, always knowing the entrances and exits, and at the moment she was lingering in the kitchen with covetous eyes. A space in her own home that she desperately looked forward to remodeling. Her blond curls were a wild mane about her face, and she was wearing slip on shoes, jeans, a red top and a black leather jacket over it.
Blake:
Blake, one of the Watchdogs, and a survivor of the Wounding, is languidly draped over one of the seats in the lounge, clad in a tailored suit, accessorized with gloves, People watching. Waiting, with subtle nods and smiles offered in greeting with People they know.
Ri:
Ri sits not from Blake, watching her packmate watch the others. Every now and then, she stands up and wanders off into the kitchen, coming back sometimes with a prize, sometimes without. Always plunking back down in the same seat near, but not next to, Blake. Her hands constantly move, tapping on her legs, rubbing against each other or her thighs, or making that annoying snap/clap thing that people sometimes do, but she sits otherwise still, eyes trained on Blake first, then movement.
Ri, as always, is dressed in the finest hackerware, a ratty t-shirt and jeans and oversized spectacles that she really does not need.
Killy:
Killy makes his way to the house, letting out a little human howl as he steps inside, greeting those around, particularly those hosting and those he knows. He waves to Blake, then walks to Jolene, smiling warmly. He’s wearing a red flannel shirt, jeans, and boots, looking not unlike one of those model lumberjacks.
Jolene:
She turned her longing eyes from the kitchen to Kill and flashed him a little smile, and gave a shrug, as if to answer the question that hadn't been asked yet. Why she was there. "Fancy meeting you here Killy." reaching up to brush some stray curls out of her nearly glowing sea green eyes, a futile effort as they fell right back in place. And then in a stage whisper. "I love the kitchen." Her eyes a little wider, impish.
ST:
A pair of Iron Masters were having a lively but friendly conversation by the sink in the kitchen. Outside on the slanted slopes of the grassy meadow that stretched out for acres around Yakaon House, there was something of a footrace being held between some wolves younger, and some older, to put to bed not for once, not for all, but for now, whether experience or youth would take the day.
Scents floated from the kitchen, and if anyone were to open the freezer, massive slabs of meat from creatures recently hunted and freshly felled would be stuffed in there, along with inside a second, and a third, those units dotting the longhouse where it made sense to have them.
And there was another conversation being held, more privately, more quietly, with voices more strained, and more difficult to overhear through the walls of Yakaon House, coming from one of those unoccupied rooms.
ST:
For those whose wolf senses keenly strained after those muffled and baritone voices, they'd hear what was certainly and undoubtedly an argument. The snippets that stood out were things like, "we need to go back there immediately"; "we should be on the offensive, not hiding"; and "if the Elders won't send us back there, then we should just go ourselves, who can stop us?"
The contentiousness of the argument started to spill, and as tempers often do, they flared, loudly. In little time at all, the Uratha in the main areas of House were more or less glancing around awkwardly at one another, either in affirmation that the others heard it, too, or in some kind of uncertainty as to what to do.
Ianto Thomas, one of the Iron Masters who had been bantering at the sink, perked up in particular, and pulled a face, pawing at the side of his neck. "Starting to feel a bit like mom and dad are having a fight again, innit?" His accent was faintly Welsh, and though absolutely nobody had asked him to, he held up his hands like he was off to perform some great service, the duty of which fell to him and him alone. "Ah. Just another pissin' match, I'll wager. Your man here will take a look."
Killy:
Killy smiles at Jolene as he approaches, giving her a quick hug. “Hey, Jolene. Didn’t expect to see you at a place like this. How are you?” He glances at the kitchen, grinning. “Getting you ambitious?”
He quiets when the shouting picks up, and frowns slightly as Ianto steps away. “Sounds like hard headed kids,” he murmurs to Jolene, tossing a look and a shrug to Blake.
Blake:
Blake frowns at the heating up in the spare room, shoots a nod and a look of concern at Ianto, and shrugs back, resignedly, at Killy.
ST:
Ianto strode towards the hallway that broke into hallways that led to the rooms, and followed the sound, humming some annoyingly pleasant tune to himself as he did, and then he delicately rapped his knuckles against the door that separated him from the now-very-loud argument, and within a millisecond of the very first tap, the door slammed open and outward, nearly colliding right into Ianto's face.
"Oy! Coulda taken my blooming nose off!" He was gripping his face in that way that you do when you've nearly been hit but have not quite been hit, but are still rapt by the awareness of what it would have been like had you been hit. Pounding footstomps thudded away from him and the room both and made their way into the lounge.
She was small, not very small but certainly slight, and slight in the way that people are when calories just slide off their bones, hair auburn and unkempt and eyes the exact same color, flashing in a rage that had been building. She had a bone to pick, a score to settle, and more people than not would recognize her as Hattie Acker, a Ghost Wolf of the Rahu variety. She looked around at those present, taking a measure of them.
"Are all of the rest of you really satisfied to do nothing? Buncha fucking werewolves you are, all of you. I'll go back myself if I have to." Hattie said the word like a curse and glanced contemptuously into the hallway where Ianto and her co-locuter had not yet emerged, but the question was clearly put to the group, to those present.
Jolene:
She moved into Killy returning the quick hug. "What can I say, I'm full of surprises....and this has definitely confirmed that I need a kitchen Island." She assures him, and she gave an almost grateful smile to Ianto have no idea who he was, but grateful that someone else was going to handle the growing. The little locus cast her eyes about to the others
She could feel the slight woman's anger, like a tangible thing in the air, and her lips fell to a safe, neutral expression, realizing she was quite out of her depth all of a sudden.
Blake:
Blake has a singular eyebrow raised in curiosity, at the lack of organized response so far implied for healing the Wound by Hattie.
ST:
Whoever Hattie had been speaking to, loudly, in that room, was still somewhere in the halls, and from the sounds of it, talking now to Ianto in lowered voices while Hattie took and tried her case before public opinion; at least, whoever was around.
Ri:
Ri's ears perk up at the heightened voices, the building fervor of the argument, but looked away with disinterest at Ianto's declaration. Her eyes widened and ears picked right back up at seeing Hattie's explosive entrance, but her mouth remained shut as her eyes narrowed back down.
Killy:
Killy lets a low whistle and produces a flask, taking a sip before walking over to the angry Rahu. “Ahhhh....Attie Hacker, right? I’m pretty new in town, and don’t know all the deets...what’s this about going back where?” He offers the flask.
ST:
Hattie wrinkled her brow at Killy and gave him a look that had only one meaning: 'seriously, bro?' With an incredulous sneer, she ignored him and turned her back on him.
"To everyone who does know their ass from their elbow, it's been months since the Wounding, and we have scouted, we have tracked, we have studied. It's time to do something, and if the Elders won't raise the Siskur Dah to hunt the Pure Tribes, we should do it ourselves. Which of you would come with me?"
Ianto was still in the hallway, still speaking in hushed voices with someone else, presumably whoever Hattie had previously been yelling at.
It took a couple of moments, but a handful of primarily younger and less bloodied Uratha started to raise their hands or step forward, even as some of them gave those few castigating looks or made sounds of disapproval.
Blake:
Blake shoots a glance at their present packmate, and with an air of resigned suffering-in-the-future, smoothly rises from their seat, and steps closer to Hattie. Blake inquires, honestly, "What's your plan of attack, then?"
Ri:
Ri gives a little look like "huh", eyes go up and she purses her mouth a bit but stands up a few seconds after Blake does, her eyes not leaving Hattie's face as she does so.
She smiles, briefly. "Yes, plan, or were you just going to show up and 'try to win'?"
Jolene:
There is a small level of ugh at losing such a good buffer to all the directions rage could go as Kill moves to talk to the woman. She however hunts for a drink, finding a beer that she takes more like a fidget toy, than a drink, to keep her hands busy if needed, and she moves to find a bit of wall to linger near in case it needed help being held up. She knew of the wound, whisperings of such things got around.
"....I can help....I'm a no one, I've been in town a couple weeks, I don't know how the wound happened...but It is a horrible wrongness, and I'll help. I can't fight, I'm Blooded, but I am a crossing point and a sneak and I've helped as an entry point for skirmishes before." It terrified her, she didn't want to help. It'd only been months since her life went sideways. It was stupid and could get her killed, but she said it none the less. "But there needs to be a plan." She a little nod of her head to Hattie but she lingered near the wall. All her best plans had gone sideways, they usually did.
Killy:
Killy’s smile doesn’t fade as he pockets the flask. “Ah, see, you never mentioned that part, that’s why I asked. For all I knew you were about to send up a rallying cry to get your stuff from your ex-boyfriend’s house. As for hunting Pure, I’m always down, what do the numbers and locations look like? How close to the Wound are they? If you aren’t enlisting the Blood Talons at large, how are you divvying up your muscle?”
ST:
Hattie scoffed. "Of course there needs to be a plan, you mewling pups." Oh, she had contempt for all of them, for all of their excuses, all of their quick contingencies and whatabouts.
"And we need to make one. Who am I, I'm not a tactical genius, I'm not asking to be your general, but I am asking you to show up and not wait to be spoon-fed like you have been, like you're wanting to now. Baby birds with your mouths open, demanding to be told what to do."
She turned on Killy. "Oh, so you do know what the hell is going on," she offered him a fake smile. "Like I said. I'm not asking to be your general. I'm saying get the fuck up off your lazy, cowardly asses and put pressure on your Tribes. There's been scouting happening; why don't we all have access to the findings? What are the locations of the Pure right now? Why isn't anyone talking about it or telling us? Do any of you care?" She looked back at a handful of them.
"Or are you all having too much fun spending the People's most holy rite, the Siskur Dah, to chase your new friends at Tur? To use the Sacred Hunt like a game, like a toy? Very impressive," she rolled her eyes.
Just about then, one of the side doors opened and someone let themselves in from the races and play hunts that had been going on outside; it was dark now, not that the dim light was so much a bother as it was an indicator of simply how long some of them had been out there.
"I knew I recognized those sweet dulcet sounds," the Blood Talon named Raconteur purred. "And prima facie, Hattie, look, I'm in," he started, raising his thick shoulders congenially. "But I have to believe that if we haven't made a move yet, it's for a good reason. Even if I don't know that reason," he told her, glancing around at some of the other faces, his own covered in sweat.
"I know that doesn't satisfy you. I know it's frustrating to wait. But if we charge in there because you want to, nothing's gonna go differently," the big Blood Talon reasoned.
Jolene:
Old habits die hard and she she slipped back a step, grabbed a bottle of water, and gave a low 'heads up' whistle to the sweaty new arrival, Raconteur before giving an easy toss of a water bottle in his direction. It wasn't subservient, it was the comfortable language of a group. Of course this wasn't really her group yet, and who knew how it'd be received. She blinked at the bit of the Sacred hunt coming up, brows tugging together in confusion. She'd clearly missed something, somewhere along the way.
ST:
Raconteur snatched the water bottle out of the air and bared his teeth in a broad smile at Jolene from behind an equally broad beard, a beard like a Belgian forest, and downed three-quarters of his contents before he the back of his flannel-covered arm across his brow.
"Your brother is going to have himself a fit, Hattie, when he gets wind of you whipping people up," he muttered. "I don't want to hear anymore about this until after you've spoken to him," the Moon Screamer decided, definitively but congenially.
"Yeah, well that's just too damn bad," Hattie seethed back with the petulance of a scolded child. "Because he's not the boss of me and neither are you." Ah, yes, the ol' not the boss of me logic, irrefutable, always.
Ri:
Ri chuckles a bit in response to Hattie's speech and Raconteur's appearance like cool water. "Sounds like you're wanting as well, wanting someone to spoon-feed you a strategy and a target? Wind you up so you can go, and rile us up so you don't go alone?" She thrusts a jaw at Raconteur. "He's right on, though. Don't mistake Hishu for inaction. If you have a plan, though..."
Killy:
Killy nods to himself, drinking from his flask again. “Bold talk from one who would hide herself from siblings in the Uratha, and sit in silent judgment rather than challenge something she finds so despicable.” And then he pointedly spins around, turning his back on Hattie and walking away.
Blake:
Blake frowns in mild exasperation at Hattie's excuses, but gestures evidently at Ri with her response. "She seems to have a point there." After Ri's nomination of Raconteur, Blake offers, "Yes, it's Wise to have a plan of action, for things you want doing, even if you can't kick off that plan, no?"
Jolene:
She looked relieved when the gesture didn't earn a biting remark, or a confused look. She knew the language of pack, of family, of wolves. Her pack, her family, her wolves, and these were not them. Not yet. She gave a warning chuff of air "She has acknowledged she is not a strategist, not a tactician...We have our strengths and weaknesses, which of us has so readily shared our passion and our weakness to a room of people that we aren't close to?" She offers the counter argument, but does so with a flash of throat and falls back silent.
ST:
Ianto and a tall, blonde woman with amber eyes were now visible in the threshhold of the hallway, and they were been watching the outburst and exchange between Hattie and Raconteur.
Without turning her head, Hattie held up a finger at Ri as one does to indicate they are too busy for it, whatever it is. She addressed Raconteur instead. "You're all a bunch of fucking cowards. The Elders are doing jack shit, the only Blood Talons left are apparently the ones that ran away, and the pups are calling the Siskur Dah to play games in the park. Never have I been more grateful to not be part of your Tribes." She practically spat the words at him, at all of them and then slammed out the side door through which Raconteur had come in.
A couple of other Uratha sprinted out after her, calling for her, asking her to calm down, trying to talk sense into her, to reason with her, their voices and tones ranging from the cajoling to the soothing to the castigating. Their voices got dimmer and quieter as they moved away, moved after her.
The blonde woman had rested a hand on Ianto's shoulder, subtly stopping him from doing something. They spoke in a low voice, a few more exchanges, and then with a slow look around the main quarters of the House, she slipped back into the hallways. Ianto, for his part, looked deeply troubled. Raconteur, for his part, found most of the remaining attention was on himself, and he was happy to fill the personality vacuum. "She's a good kid, she's just restless," he offered with a grimacing grin to those who were still milling around.
Ri:
Ri just stands and looks at the Ghost Wolf's departure and halfway sighs, "oooookay then."
Blake:
Blake shakes their head at disappointment at that outburst. "To make war isn't just to find the nearest enemy and throw away your life in an attempt to defeat them, as much as the Warrior's instincts scream at one to do so. Anyway, do you know who's been scouting the Pure?" That last question wasn't rhetorical and directed at Raconteur, after approaching him.
Jolene:
"She sees a wrong and she wants to fix it, it's the way, it's the how we fix it that gets wiggly." a faint smile, her accent a touch heavier, and not readily identifiable, as she sunk back into her silence, and took a sip from her beer, wondering if this was the right decisions. But perhaps any decision was better than no decision which had been her original plan. Her heart was racing though, even as she forced her breath to be slow, steady.
Ri:
Ri looks over at Jolene, smiles, and gives her a little wink.
ST:
Raconteur raised his big shoulders and gestured about. "Look around. All the Hunters are out scouting. If they're still scouting, it means our information must be incomplete. Don't, don't go running off after Hattie to play lone soldier, or dire wolf. I'll talk to Brian, her brother. He'll calm her down."
Killy:
Killy sighs and shakes his head. “Jesus.” He moves off to the side of the room, pacing a little.
Blake:
Blake turns to Ri, "We should bug Sal about asking the other Meninna about what they're able to share."
Jolene:
And at Ri's wink she actually visibly relaxes. It wasn't easy to speak up in a group she didn't know, to share her view points, especially when the room was running hot. She gave a smile in turn and a slight bow of her head. Her mane of blond curls half hiding her face, but her piercing eyes practically glowed, and promised that she'd never quite pass as human.
Ri:
"Agreed. I'll add it to my list," Ri adds with a smile.
ST:
Ianto made a 'get over here' gesture to Raconteur and pulled the convivial Moon Screamer away into a private discussion. He gestured in towards the room he had fished Hattie out of, where the woman she had presumably been speaking to had disappeared once again, and said a few quiet words to him, then gestured towards the door.
The big-voiced Raconteur replied loudly enough to be heard, "But that would be suicide." With a hissing sound of distress, Ianto flicked Raconteur in the shoulder, indicating he shoulder lower his goddamn voice, and then he went on. Then both of their eyes went the door Hattie had left through. Then both of their eyes went into the hallway. Then they made eye contact with one another. Raconteur grimaced again. "I'll call Brian now," she mumbled, letting himself out through another side door, fishing a phone from his pocket and wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans before he handled the touchscreen.
Blake:
Blake turns to Ri, rhetorically asking, "Hattie's doing something dangerous and dumb, isn't she?"
Ri:
"Oh, yeah. Super dumb. Like, to 11."
Killy:
Killy growls, then takes a deep, slow breath, then walks over to Jolene and gently takes her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “You’re right. We should be focused on a path forward, even if the person pointing it out is...lashing out...”
Blake:
Continuing their dialogue with Ri, Blake asks, "Should we offer our help?"
Jolene:
Her eyes flicked towards Ianto and Raconteur, towards where they'd looked, her lips pursing as her eyes blazed with curiosity, looking from the door to the hallway that seemed to keep engaging their attention. She let Killy take her hand and slowly exhaled "We don't know what she lost to that wound....who she lost to that wound..." she offers softly to the man, giving his hand a squeeze in turn, and exhaling like she'd been holding a breath.
Ri:
Ri takes a deep breath before answering Blake. "We should help? Right? We probably should?" She stops a bit. "I just don't know what 'help' looks like. A big part of me thinks help is bonking her over the head until her, her brother? shows up to calm her down. Another part of me thinks she's about one bonk from losing it, too."
Blake:
"Feels like she's heading to the nearest group of Pure she can find or the Wound to smash against, to be honest. Won't know unless we ask, I think." Blake conjectures, basing off of Hattie's outburst and what their instincts would drive them to feel in her position.
ST:
"Do not go after Hattie," Ianto warned a swath of Uratha as he fluttered back across the large space of the room. "I am utterly serious. Don't. Even if you think you're doing the right thing." He covered the lower half of his face with his hand, and then rubbed his palm across his eyes. "Especially then."
From outside through a crack in the door, Raconteur's voice said, "We need to talk about your sister, buddy," and then the door shut.
Jolene:
"Other's went with her, who know her, care for her-" And finally she snapped her attention to Ianto, with a head's up nod. "Who was the blonde? Seemed like she gotten you and Hattie going in different ways..." Slowly breaking away from Killy to move towards Ianto now as she questioned him, lips pursing.
Killy:
Killy starts to pace again, frowning, arms crossed over his chest as he appears to think furiously.
Ri:
Ri starts to respond to Blake as Ianto saunters into the room with his warning. "Huh, well, maybe best to leave Mad Hattie to people who know her? Sam and I had an idea that we were tossing around that might be the start of something, speaking of getting more information on the Pure. It's about as well baked as Hattie's plans right now but it might be something."
ST:
"And hopefully they'll get stopped or come to their senses," Ianto exhaled uneasily. He pulled his hand down from over his eyes, the palm covering his mouth. He tugged it the rest of the way down to his chin so he could answer Jolene unmuffled. "A visitor from another Protectorate," he replied before he covered his mouth again, hazel eyes searching the other end of the room. "I think I'm going to go, ah, check on Robert," she said, by way of referencing Raconteur, and then he let himself out that same side door.
Blake:
Blake looks over to Ianto when he gives the warning, and shrugs in response for their packmate's benefit, "That's fair." At Ri's mention of conspiracy with Sam against the Pure, a look of curiosity forms on Blake's mien. "You've my attention."
Killy:
Killy can’t help himself, he stops pacing and looks to Ri, clearly interested, though he doesn’t say anything.
Jolene:
She gave a little breathy sound, that was better suited to spirits or animals, a vocalization that wasn't a word but a meaning at the mention of a visitor from another Protectorate. And she gave a slight bow of her head. "Thank you for your time." and her eyes that always saw too much turned to take in the space. It was a Tur, and she didn't know if there were any additional rules, but presumably a little exploring would be forgiven.
She began to quietly slip away from the gathering to explore deeper into the house.
ST:
[[ I don't have anything further for you at this time. There are a few options that have come up. You can:
1. Try to find or track down Hattie -- despite being told not to.
2. Contact a high-ranked Mennina to get information about Pure scouting reports.
3. Follow-up with any of the NPCs from this scene that were not Hattie. ]]
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