Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 07:44PM EST
Taking a few pieces of wood from the far side of the Vardo, she swished over to the small firepit, and tucked them into the small blaze that was going. Poking it a bit to stoke it up before she found a seat. She always looked out of place in a modern setting when working around the vardo. Tonight she had on some pathworks skirts and had cinched up her blouse with a nice little vest. Overlay that with a thick shawl and she looked like a gypsy. Maybe she just liked suiting others images. Or maybe dancing in this was more fun. Only her feet fit in, with her hiking boots for snow on them.

The swirl of her bells filled the forest around their little campsite as she moved about, eventually dropping into thick silence when she sat. Tucking her long, waist length raven hair back to twirl in wavy curls over herchair, she waited. The Vardo was empty, the campsite was empty, but that never lasted long. Someone would come home and then the night would start. She had to talk to Ra'gon now, and hope he didn't want to thrash her more. And who knew where Gemile was hiding but she really needed to talk to her sister.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 07:58PM EST
Through the silence of the falling slow the black wolf moves, stopping at the crest of a darkened hill to catch the scents on the wind. Others are about in these woods...they always are. He can scent the small things that creeped and crawled underfoot, insects and rodents; he can scent, also, the distant hints of humans with wolfblood in them, and others like himself. Close, the sharp and acrid scent of the Ragabash who had just vanished; farther away, the scent of the celtic werewolf.

And threaded between, the scent of smoke, a fire burning...

The black wolf lowers his head and spurs into a trot, following the trail of smell and, eventually, sound. Sight. The crackling of flames. The glow of fire.

Black as sin, the yellow-eyed wolf emerges from the shadows and stands stock-still, watching and waiting to be seen.


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 08:11PM EST
The fire licks at her added wood, slowly consuming it and she watches the flames dance about the winterized wood. Little pops and snaps as water inside the wood thawed or broek free. She really wasn't paying all that much attention around her. Wasn't expecting unknown visitors, just the ones who enjoy making themselves known.

Its a long few minutes before a chance glance about the campsite makes another aware to her, and she starts slightly. Its the faint tension of being surprised, and it being a wolf, no less surprising to see just appear at the fringes. Making sure she hadn't seen Ra'gon or anyone else of the pack approaching, around. . no, alone with an unknown wolf. Beautiful. She'd had the best last few days.

Watching him, watching her, silent circle, since she had no really good way of knowing if he was a real wolf or a Garou. Tucking her heavy woolen shawl tighter though, as they watched each other.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 08:15PM EST
The wolf is large and massive both, heavy jaw and heavier shoulders. His yellow eyes narrow as he strains to catch her scent over the pungent smoke. Humanscent, mostly, but there was a tinge of wolf to her...and to this clearing.

One large paw before the other, the wolf moves forward for closer scrutiny.


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 08:20PM EST
Okay, strange wolves not exactly what she wants creeping closer, but don't natural ones not like fire? Lets take a flying leap of an assumption based on the sheer fact they were staying in Garou territory, had seen nothing but garou for weeks on end. Offering her smile, its that teasing coy smile that springs to her lips without a thought. Well trained lips, those.

"Most wait for an invitation before entering."

Lilting voice, exotic, in its English. There's an accent there. If you heard her native tongue, you'd understand.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 08:26PM EST
And that concludes the tentative dance of are-you-kin-and-are-you-Garou. In the blink of an eye, the Knife reassumes his birth form, straightening out of the crouch. His dedicated clothes are simple - black slacks, grey t-shirt. To the angle of his jaw there is a certain imperious nobility; to the rest of him, there is a certain lean grace that the powerful lupus-form might bely.

He does not move, though, other than to stand, and so it is the brute full-moon strength to him that is most apparent. An inclination of his chin - "There are none here who could extend the proper invitation. Where are your Garou? I smell them, but the scent is old."


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 08:33PM EST
"They had things to attend to."

Good guess Nadja. Of course out here, its easier to assumre wolves are Garou then not. Funny how that works. Straightening in her chair to stand. She's not the most formidable of women. Not a warriors grace of movement, as can be seen quickly, but a dancer's grace, movements honed to precision in that intrinic suppleness. As she moves, so do the bells ring, in soft silvery tones. Its a exotic, un common sight she presents.

"May I ask who you are?"


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 08:38PM EST
His eyes are tawny by firelight; not quite the gleaming yellow of a moment before, but still far from human hue. They flicker to the camper behind her, and then over her, bells, dancer's grace and all.

"Gypsy, are you? Why do they put bells on you?" His is a low voice, smooth as well-aged wine, and laced with a certain humor - gentle, one might say, but oh so unkind. "Are they afraid they'll lose track of you otherwise?

"Konrad is my name. And yours?"


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 08:43PM EST
That smiles flickers off with his words. Its a defensive action, if you could call it that. Goes from smooth dancer to insulted woman in a blink.

"I am Nadja, of the Romsir."

What had set her off? Perhaps her address gave a clue. She leaves his other questions unanswered for the moment.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 08:46PM EST
What had set her off? Obvious enough to him. "Rom," he corrects himself. "I apologize. I didn't know better."


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 08:49PM EST
A few seconds and her smile returns. Apology accepted it would seem, or she is really not one to be overly hostile to garou. Always a smart thing. Tension flwoing out of her like water, she actually gives him a wink with her net words.

"Apology accepted Rhya Konrad. Not all can be properly educated after all."

There's her gentle humor, or more her teasing humor, but its with playful smile and of course that wink.

"And I wear bells because its a family tradition. They lend to the dance, after all, and make this place sound that much sweeter."


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 08:56PM EST
"Ah. Wrong twice." He returns the smile. You couldn't call his playful, but it conveys a measure of warmth. Seems the Shadow Lord wasn't all ice and darkness. Perhaps.

"I hope I'm not setting a trend. Then again, you do seem the type to be hard to keep track of." The smile. The wink. The tease. He notices. "I doubt your Garou will leave you alone long. When they return, would you give them my greetings? I've claimed adjacent territory that way." He gestures the way he's come with one hand. "They can find me there if they want a word."


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 09:00PM EST
"I can certainly relay your message Rhya Konrad."

How is it she can make a polite title seem almost. . . taunting? Must be talent. A glance the way he gestures, and shift of her body, a tiny peal of bells.

"And if Garou were omnipotent and omniscient, we would live in a perfect world. Being wrong so far is hardly jeopardizing. I'm a forgiving sort."

If you weren't her Strider blood, right now, or a certain cat. Oh there would be some words coming for a chioce few people. But none of that shows, just coy, playful Nadja of Water.


Knife-in-the-Spine

Thu 09:03PM EST
"Thank you, educated Nadja." Taunt for smiling taunt, though never beyond the borders of what could be called polite. He nods his head to her, "Good night, then," and, turning, walks away.