Konrad Vrdoljiak

(butterfly)
it had watched its friend it had seen it when the final blow was struck that pushed him into the sweet oblivion of unconciousness, it had seen the one without honor continue to torture even after the cat lay so close to death and only fled when one began to cross over. now on rainbow wings it finds itself seeking one it would if it could avoid one who deals with death. yet for this it must endure. to Ruv Ra'gon butterfly whispers its message imporing for help.

"your furred cousin, child of both gods, the one of basts blood has been taken by those of your blood. he who rivaled him for love of your family now. holds him"

another has to be visited still tonight a lover needs to know as well.

(ra'gon)
It was a rather odd chilly day as Ruv sat there upon his stump overlooking the Yard of Bones and listening to the panderings of 'Johanuss' about why the Iriqouis are Savages and why the Hurons are devils. ~Cannibals?~

"Im sorry Johanuss" His hand softly caressed the old grayed bone of Johanuss' skull "Did you say Cannibals?" Rolling his eyes as the ghost decided to explain the dynamics of such an 'uncivilized, uncultured, birthed of sin and satinic peoples' to him.

"Johanuss, the savages are all about us. You will keep watch yes? Let us know should the French or the savages come?" A sly grin he gave to the skull his hand was stroking upon.

And then he saw it. Odd actually, so chilly and yet a spring and summer insect was flapping it gorgious colours around to the beat of....Eyes widen ~Holy shit it talks!~

Obviously Ruv would not notice how far his mouth had dropped. Nor would he notice how angry Johanuss was for the sudden ignore of his words. ~A spirit...A butterfly spirit?Talking to me?~ Eyes quizically glint from left to right ~Message? From whom? OoooooOOO!~

He could not answer the alien spirit, he had no words to give it. Of life, birth and happiness it seemed to breath upon him; upon Ruv who worshipped Death, Decay and the darkest points of Balance. Now his body tingled alive, odd sensations sparked upon every fiber, raising every hair in static splendor. ~wowww~ And then it was gone. No longer to linger, the spirit had left.

Ignoring the grumbling protests of Johanuss he pondered the riddled missing words of the Butterfly. ~Harlequin? Trouble..who has em? Rival for Pena?~ Head cants as his thoughts fleet upon The Builder. Eyes narrow as the image of the Builder is replaced by that of Simon, the angst between the two he recalled suddenly.

He stood sudden, letting the bones of Johanuss crumble to the stump. Shrugging off the screams of ire as the ghost makes his rumbles behind him. The door of the large vardo opens wide.

"Pena..find the Dell. Nadja! Nadja! find the Builder..bring him here. Something came to me with words of our Prala Harlequin"

(gemile)
She was leaning back in the Captain's chair, watching the last bit of CNN when the vardo doorway suddenly opened, sending a hurling chill inside the once warm shelter. Her had snapped to the side, eyes narrowing at the site of her Prala. A brow arched as she sat up, resting arms upon kneecaps.

"Come inside and tell us what happened first..." her gaze flashing to her twin mirror image, then back again, "I'm not going to rush off to the Del without telling him what the importance is."

(ra'gon)
"Well...." Slipping towards the couch to settle himself down with a smile instead of a frown. Odd? Isnt that Odd? "Well" Smiling bright "It rather was one of the most exilerating experiences I have ever had. A butterfly told me" Nodding with that same odd smile quite vigorously as if that was enough to settle her food for thoughts. It was momentarily for him.

(gemile)
Brows folded to creases as she watched him, like a boy who just had his first kiss, beaming with inner exhileration over to the couch and plop down. With his words, both her thin brows slowly raised, "You.... just talked... to a Butterfly."

Clearing her throat, flashing hazel orbs to her sister again, then back to Prala. He must be on X again. A hand rolling around in the air to beckon a contiuance from him, "Annnnnnddddd....."

(ra'gon)
"And what?" Shrugging before his eyes snapped wide "OH! right." Almost forgetting the words the alien spirit had uttered upon coloured wings to him. Weren't they important? If so, why did he feel for the moment that the presence of such a spiritual entity overshadowed the predicament of his Prala? "Yeah, Harlequin has been...." Glancing up and to his left "Hurt maybe? Taken?" Shrugging "I can't rightly remember..I just know that butterfly had a very awesome effect on my skin"

(eleanor)
The threads between shared friends is impossibly thin.

The door to the third floor slams shut, shuddering hard upon its hinges and frame as the young felines snarls in futility. The darkness of the stairwell is cool, but it provides little comfort to her Rage fired blood. Damn him! Hands become fists, useless fists, which blanch white knuckled. The young child of Bast turns to press her forehead agianst the cool black marble pannels that adorn the walls, her jade eyes closed as she draws measures of cool, calming breath.

When she has quietted, a presence makes itself felt. It is little more than a disturbance, a soft prickle of light scarcely seen a few precious inches to her left. It mutes immediatly with the descent of two patrons, who press through the doorway and spare the young Cat no small leering look. But with their passing, the small mote reassures its existence, coming to being once again.

She is young, but she is still an ally to be called. And there is no doubt that she would fail to answer her dearest Companion. Hello, Child. I have a favour to ask. I have a friend...

(judah)
Cymaa. The place where so many odd events had taken place over the course of a few months. It lay cold now, cold as a crypt made for nothing more than to house the dead.

There were many rooms and many passages and many secrets within those crypt(ic) like walls. More so perhaps that anyone realised, certainly more than the dogs cared to see.

Wearing no more than comfortable cotton pants and a beautiful gold Scarab necklace, Judah Alexander Rahotep walked slowly the narrow dark path that led to the front door of the Club. He stood there, observing the darkness of the steel door, the fine etched glass ... the way the shadows shrunk back into the corners of the walls as his eyes rolled over their darkened tendrils.

His words flowed freely in Enochian (... A ka dua...tuf ur biu...bi aua chefu...dudu nur af....an nuteru...) as a hand stained with blood washes over the front entry to Cymaa. Turning, he starts back down the hall ... hand trailing down the glyph laden wall, his lips repeating the chant over and over and over ....

It is night now. The club is no longer the cold and claustrophobic crypt it was during the day. It is the heat of night, bodies pulse and sweat, music courses like a living being, taking a piece of each dancers soul and transferring it like some contagion to another...empowering...

He has showered. There's the slightest tingle, however, once dressed, that sets him on edge. The hair along the back of his neck rises to attention and bright green eyes narrow.

His steps are quick, and as he's easing down the stairwell, his footfalls likely register different than others to her keen ears ... they are lighter, he pauses upon reaching the Kitten .... his eyes searching the blackened space around her.

"What is going on?"

(nadja)
She'd heard Prala's jumbled calls from the back bedroom. . Harlequin? Coming up front she looked from her mirror image to Prala quizzically.

"But Prala, I saw Harlequin just last night, at the boardwalk. He looked fine, was in his usual mode of flirting with everything."

(gemile)
Brows creasing deeper, if at all possible, as she stares at Ra'gon. Blink. Blink.

Lips parting to speak as she raised from her chair, a hand smoothing over the top of her head. Nadja's words quelled her own, and she turned to look at her image. Blink. Blink.

Shaking her head, "Wait wait," hands waving in the air before one comes down to point at Ra'gon, "Are you on drugs? And if your not, then explain..."

(ra'gon)
Shaking his head "Look..all I know is Mr Twinkles is in trouble. And..." Rolling those eyes as his thoughts caused him pause ~Feline's? Bugs? Connection? Its not likely they converse with our spirits, so....perhaps....Bugs. Well no wonder they all sit and stare at em. Flies on the otherhand...Jesus Christ Ruv! You're thinking to hard about this shit. It was a Butterfly!~ Brows furrowing in mid sentence "You think cats talk to bugs when they make that god aweful machine gun sound from their throat? You know. That ackaackaakaackaa sound?" Canting his head towards Gemile.

"No I am not on drugs. Im trying to figure out how Mr Twinkles sent me a message using a Bug Spirit. For christ' sakes woman listen!"

Rising from couch "The Butterfly spirit said this and I quote your butt grooming cousin is a child of two gods but only prays to Bast!" Fluttering his eyelashes "Hello? Thats Harlequin, aka Mr Twinkles. Let me finish the quote." Clearing his throat "Where did I leave off? Oh yeah right. Being drinched in blood, was taken by a rival for our Pena's heart."

Casting his brows towards Nadja "Soooooooo Either the Builder has em, which I doubt" Dismissing the thought quickly, not really seeing Noah as being 'that' shitty "Or Simon has em. And if that is the case, it wont be long before that slippery little snot runs off and tells his Lord Marshall Farkwad what Harlequin really is...thussssss" Raising a finger "We have to mount a counter insergence. I say we kill the rock giver."

Quickly pointing towards Gemile "Did you save any of his gifts? You know" snapping his fingers quickly "Those funny rocks he sent her? If so give it to me and we'll find him. Where was I?" Canting his head back towards Nadja "Riiiiight. Kill the rock giver, rescue Mr Twinkles, hide him with our cousins on the boardwalk" Snickering "You know I just thought of something funny. Beach? Sandbox? Litter?" Eyes darting between the two mirror images before rolling "You fuckers have no sense of humor. Ooooor! We wait for the Del and ask him what we should do. Sense I can tell by both your wide eyes I said kill just alittle to soon."

Turning from them just a moment before snapping back with another interjection "Nadja? You have anymore suitors we don't know about? I'd hate to lob off the wrong buck's head." Head Canting as his fingers snap quickly again "Heey what about that other cat? You know the one he was always with? Shit..Nadja! get out your sewing needles. I need a small yarn pouch for my catnip..I mean mint. We'll summon the little bastard we will. Also, I might actually have to go seeking a Unicorn about bug spirits"

(gemile)
Lips pursing together as an attempt to supress a snicker at Ra'gon's name for their Prala. Failing, she only shakes her head and chuckles before her attention fell again back upon the Darkside of the force.

Mouth opens, snaps shut. ~Rival blood huh what?~ hands going to her hips. ~Noah or Simon.. right right. No the Builder wouldn't touch em, not his style...~ Mouth opens, shuts. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, eyes flashing to Nadja at the query. ~Any more suitors? Well... hmm... she might but I don't think so, then again...~

"Oh just get a sock for the catnip or mint or whatever." Pausing as she makes her way to the liquor cabinet, "And whyyy do we want to find the other cat?" Crouching down, hands shuffle thru the stocked bottles for a box of, what apparently reads, martini stir sticks, "Lets wait to jump at killing them." All. Standing, she turns around, nimble fingers opening the cardboard and handing the box to Ra'gon, "First, yes we go find the Del." Nibbling on her bottom lip, her eyes roll around as she ponders possibilites, "As for the Builder. I'm not positive we should involve him... yet. He is gajo, and this is.. until Mr. Twinkles identity is discovered... a Rom situation. Del first."

(ra'gon)
"You are absolutely right Gemile! Save for solely us Rom. Lets get Mr Twinkles little buddy a call. I think that child of Bast might just want to help find our Prala. He is a cat too afterall." Grumbling "Damn furball."

Sighing after his hands place themselves upon his hips. A definate show of those wheels and cogs churning upstairs in his cavern of dark mystery.

"I have a plan. Its spewing out of my head faster than I can give it to words. So follow me as best as you can. I awaken the spirit of this catmint, we each take alittle bit in a pouch and wear it around our necks. Thus why I didnt ask for a sock Gemile...keep up, your fuckin with the plan." Snapping his forefinger towards her like a lecture.

"Sooo in short we are all like walking beackons of yummy yummies for this buddy of his. Its black, its bigger than a house cat and has big yellow eyes. So that means we have no idea what this fucker looks like. And we have no idea where this bloke could be. So we split up and walk all around the woods tonight." Canting his head "Here kitty kitty wont cut it. Don't do it, don't think it, I've heard tails that these creatures read minds and steal secrets from your breath. Lets not tempt fate here Pena's."

"Tomorrow we could go to city. We go to Prala's haunts. That Egyptain Club, the Diner and the Boardwalk. If that fuckin cat is around, it'll sure enough come to us."

Grinning ear to ear. "So..whatcha think? Sure needs alittle sprucen up here and there..but its a sound plan right?" His eyes were casting between them both.

(gemile)
"A sound plan?" Lashes fluttering as she stares up at him, "Um... no. It sounds good, but I have a few problems with it." Raising a finger, index pointing straight up, "One, I've seen what catnip does to house cats. They get all freaky and scratch and roll around on the shit." Blinks, "Two, does this plant your talking about attract just big cats or little house and alley cats too?" Eyes going wider as her hand thrusts towards his chest, finger pocking on his solar plex, "Because I am not going to be the Pied-Fucking-Piper of Kitty Nation and neither is our Pena," hand rolling off of Ra'gon to gesture absently behind her where she last saw Nadja, "Thats like turing us into a big crackrock and slamming us down in the middle of Junkie-alley. Uh-uh. No way." Shaking her head, arms crossing over her chest as she stares up at him in defiance, "Its a good plan... to a point. Yes, searching Mr.Twinkles's haunts is a fabulous idea. I think we should definitly try that at least. But, you have the stones as well." Canting her head towards the box in his hand, "I think we need to find the Del, right off the bat and see what he says about all this. I might go with the idea of us walking around the woods with that herb of yours, but I'm sure as hell not going into the city with it until I know what it does exactly, and I'm not letting either of you two do it as well. I mean, your right, we don't even know what the hairball looks like! Priorities!" slapping her hands together now, knuckles on plams, "We need to sort our priorities! Del first."

(ra'gon)
Nods "Uh-huh..and in the meantime what? We pray our Prala is safe? Time is of the essence Gemile...So where is Del Khepera?" Casting his brows to both she and Nadja who was oddly quiet. ~UH OH!~ The alarm bells chiming off "Nadjaaaa..what are you thinking?"

(nadja)
But she doesn't look like she had been thinking of much, was actually still a bit stunned. It'd only been last night she had seen him, and though the interaction with that woman had been, well, almost hostile at times. . . she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"Well, we surely need to find Prala Harlequin. If indeed Simon was involved. . . well, we've still the three stones if it helps. Simon called them heartstone, not that I am sure what that is or if its important. And the woman who was with Harlequin last night? I didn't know her, nor if she was Garou, a child of bast or otherwise normal. . . but perhaps she saw something. . . "

There'd been that strange, almost hostile aura at times. Harlequin had been trying ointimidate her. She'd asumed because the woman wasn't repsonding as he wished. . .

"Or maybe she was involved. . . they hadn't seemed too greatly pleased with each other, but I assumed Prala was merely finding a gaje woman who had a smidgeon of self control. . . "

Looking from one to the other. Had she been the last to see Prala? If only she had stayed. . .

(nadja)
Nodding her head, she sighed a breath and went back to the captain's chair to sit. Leaning over to slide black boots on, "Ok, Nadja you come with me, since you saw him last and you saw who he was with last. We'll start at the Walk, make our way to that club he loves so much. If we run into the Del, then we'll tell him then. Ra'gon, you do this kittycrack thing and see what you can round up. We'll meet back here and start tracking Simon." Quickly lacing up, she stands and makes her way to the back bedroom, "Last peson lock up the Vardo and stay the hell away from Thunder's Children till we regroup."

(khepera)

~They seek to find their wayward Del. One would think, knowing what he was, being a child of the great Water Spirit, Uktena.. That he may be drawn to water. Or at least somewhere near it.. There was only a few places he haunted. And one area he called home~

(konrad)
All the hustle and bustle next door has not gone unnoticed.

Up on the headlands over the graveyard where the Rom have made their home - made it in a peninsula of territory surrounded by his land - the Ahroun watches in his wolf form: silent, black, motionless save for the stirring of his fur in the wind.

He's too far to hear them. He's too far to be easily seen. But he can see them, busy little Striders that they are.

Perhaps a little too busy.

The air around him shimmers. He pulls into the Otherworld - reemerges in his home. Rummaging through his roughhewn desk, he finds his cellular (no phone lines come out to this place) and curses softly at the reception. Paces to the window, facing the general direction of the city, and the cellular antennae. Waits until the message shows up on the little screen:

Welcome to AT&T Wireless.

Presses buttons. Holds the phone to his ear. Waits for it to ring, ring, ring, until the other end finally picks up.

"Simon. Konrad." He wanders away from the window, pours himself a glass of water. "Quite a bit of commotion next door, today. Looks like someone raised the alert. They push our hand. They might attempt to intervene. Interfere with justice. There is no time for a trial."

Something replied through the earpiece, indecipherable. A pause. The Ahroun returns to the window and looks into the east, eyes narrowed, sipping from his glass.

"If we err, we will err on the side of caution.

"Execute him."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 07:15AM EST
A peal of bells . . .
A whirl of jasmine . . .
A dervish of trouble waiting to happen. . .

The information about Harlequin will make anyone pause. It could make anyone wary. It did both and more for her. However, even being on alert did not stop her prayers. Sarrath at sunset. . . so her reconnaissance of the Boardwalk done, a quick sweep through Cymaa as Gemile wanted and she came home to the Vardo. Came home to greet burning death of day with fervent penance. No, evem Harlequin wouldn't let her stop with that. . . and so, on her knees to the East, she prayed, Romani thick and sweetly flowing like wine.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 07:21AM EST
You'd think he'd skulk more. Be more careful. He'd seen the Strider camp all up in arms, and being a Lord, he likely assumed his name had been blacklisted along with the rest.

But he doesn't. Skulk, that is. The assumptions were his to make and his to keep. Yet his posture is the same as ever, spine straight, head held high, limbs loose and relaxed: a swordsman's stance, not fifty feet from her at the boundary of their territories.

Politely enough, he waits for her to finish before clearing his throat softly.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 07:28AM EST
She rises, and at his sound, turns, and he can already see the difference. Poised and wary. . and Hazel eyes not atwinkle at all, but darkly watching. . .

"Konrad of Thunder's Children. . why am I not surprised?"

She must be strong orelse she will fall, to the Balance. . . no need of spiritual protectors. .

Her family, who could do so much, did so little at times. Had he been involved in Harlequin's disappearance as well? She just couldn't know. Alexis' face not one known to many Garou. . . and their only real clue, useless as it was.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 07:32AM EST
The wariness in her eyes does not escape him. He exhales, breath fogging white in the fading sunlight, and the line of his shoulders seem almost to sag for a moment. He pushes a hand back through his hand, distractedly, and looks over her shoulder at the camper. "Are your Garou home? I need a word with them."

And you can bet he didn't approach until he was certain they were not home.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 07:40AM EST
Were they? Could he not tell? Truck is gone, fire low, scent old, but then. . he's in his human form. Perhaps he wasn't so skilled there. Eyeing him, she does not approach either. There is safety in distance. There is safety in the camps. . right? But listening to him, she still cannot reconcile that image of what happened with harlequin with what she's seen of him. . or at least his words don't make her outright wary. She has the sake of distance, of the Vardo nearby. . .

"They are otherwise occupied. I will give them a message when they are free."

Thunder's kin may well toe the line with their garou, but Rom could be startingly frank and straight forward at times. Hers a pride and security she maybe should not have. . stubborn, unbroken pride, and security in her home and family.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 07:48AM EST
There's a distraction in him, like there was something else on his mind - a pressing burden. Tawny eyes finally pull away from the camper, back to her. He draws a breath, drops his hand (because he will not seem weak before a kin), and looks her in the eye.

"Tell them this for me." The words sound recited, strained, like they'd been memorized to ease the humiliation. "A female of my tribe has acted without honor and struck against one that Simon tells me is close to you. She has an irrational hatred of your kind, the Rom. Her crime stains all our names. We hunt her, and we will bring her to justice - but - she is skillful and elusive. We want to be certain that your people are aware of this danger...lest she strike against them, as well. The last we saw of her, she was coming this way.

"Nadja..." Oh, that was not scripted. Raw emotion is never scripted, and the best lies always hold some element of the truth. "It's not safe for you to be alone."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 07:54AM EST
He will not seem weak. She rarely is, these days. Only weakness that of being kin s opposed to wolf and even that, debatable. The spirit of the wolf slumbering within her blood, and the minute differences of her as opposed to gaje kin hidden until danger woke it to life. . . until even kin could roil in wolfen power. But thats not now, not yet. . thats for a woman she had seen adn elft Harlequin with. . . perhaps as good as condemned her kin right there. She listens though, to his oh so credible words (tricky.tongue.of.a.lord.no.doubt. but.hard.to.say) and nods, with a sigh.

"The woman from the Boardwalk. . . then we pursue the right adversary. I will tell them, Konrad. . . and thank you for your concern."

Still had not come closer, only watched. Was she safe even amongst others? The Rage of Garou made any kin suspect that safety.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 08:02AM EST
His chin inclines a notch; he studies her thoughtfully, considering. Finally, some faint measure of amusement breaks his tension and he shakes his head. "Nadja of the Rom, so damnably brave. You shouldn't be left alone for more reasons than one - " humor fading, "but this time, that one is a very good one. You're not safe here. I'm sending my mate from this place to stay with my family in upstate New York. I think your sister would skin me if I didn't offer the safe refuge to you, knowing who might come for you."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 08:07AM EST
"A generous offer, Konrad, but my family shelters me and I can look after myself."

Rom let their weak fall by the wayside, to preseve their Balance. . . and yet Harlequin's disappearance made a vaccuum in that very Balance. . . what untipped scale would result if something happened to her? Still holding to her distance, but speaking politely, almost as always had with him. A subtle shift of weight, easing her stance some, releasing song into the still, silent twilight forest.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 08:18AM EST
Perhaps it's the song of her (black) bells. Perhaps it's the subtle shift of position, the grace that betrays her dancer's passionate soul, even if she forces it into some semblance of penitence and propriety. Whatever it is, there's a silence from the Shadow Lord, punctuated only by the rhythm of breath.

Behind him, colors of the dusk streak and run and fade. Yellows bleed to orange, orange to red, red to violet and violet to black. Stars appear, and the gibbous moon rides above.

"Nadja," and it's only her name, this time, for a very long time. He reaches out as though he might touch her but - at the last minute - touches one of her black bells, instead.

"Black doesn't suit you," low, now, and he doesn't cross the border. "It doesn't suit you at all."

Too much fire.
Too much danger.

Whirling dervish didn't begin to describe her. There's the slightest of tugs on the bell he holds, wrapped about her waist: invitation to cross into his land, and more.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 08:26AM EST
A tug, and she stands firm, though eyeing him like a new creature. He'd said he had a mate earlier. He'd never made such an advance. And yet. . . there is within him that can draw even her. . . she balks, now. .but for how long?

"It suits me perfectly."

Because the things he made her think would guarantee black and more.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 08:34AM EST
The Ahroun laughs under his breath, and his hand moves, curving through the line of the belt until his knuckles rested firm against her taut abdomen.

His eyes flicker up to hers: tawny, dark in the fading twilight, a deep and resonant hue. He meets her stare, returns it, and looks at her like she was beyond new. He has a mate. A business relationship with benefits, and that's all the damn well needs. But the things he's thinking? Nearly frighten him.

(if this one had come first...)

The problem with a good lie was, sometimes you could start believing them, if only for a moment. And it's firmly and irresistibly, now, that he pulls her forward - yanks - jerks: a single hard tug that damn near collides her into him.

"Liar."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 08:40AM EST
But any person lies. Its a day to day thing. They lie with their mouths, eyes, face, body. . . why she should be different is absurd. He laughs, and it curls inside her. He presses those knockles against her abdomen, and she shivers. . . and she meets his eyes, and is lost.

His tug unexpected, with the slow, teasing way he had been going, and she almost stumbles, innate grace savig her such ignonimy. Instead coming to within inches of him, to wihtin his territory. . .

"Perhaps."

Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 08:56AM EST
"Always."

Himself, or her? - didn't matter now. She almost stumbles, doesn't, rights herself, steady as a gyroscope, fluid as water. Her grace is innate; her solemnity, a facade. His savageness is innate; his civility, a very thin facade. Inches left, and they don't last long: devoured by his step forward, muscular frame aligning to hers.

He kisses her.
No: he ravages her (hunt like an animal. kill like an animal. fuck like an animal.). And he'd bet his family fortune on her giving as good as she gets.

(let's get outta here.)

Doesn't need to be said. He lets her belt go, grabs her by the hand, and tugs her away from the border, deeper in his wooded territory, his strides eating up ground. Shadow Lord turf, now, and for better or for worse, tonight the lie goes like this: she's shadow lord property, herself.

Half a hundred yards from his cabin, though, he falls behind half a step as though he'd stumbled on some root (how ignominous, indeed) - and strikes her at the back of her head where cranium joins spinal column: swiftly, almost casually. Lights out.

She crumples. He catches her, Glabro-shaped now and dwarfing her utterly, lifting her effortlessly. His nostrils flare to drink.her.scent...and then he looks around for his Beta, because he knows the damn Ragabash is watching.

"It's a fucking pity," he growls, "that we don't have more time. Where's my kinfolk?"

Storm Crow

Wed 09:01AM EST
ANd like water rippeling down from stormclouds above the beta shimmers into existance infront of the man. Startelingly close Crouched. Dressed totally in black. BDUs with pockets full of the tools of the trade. He looks up and smiles. His head tilted. He sniffs once and arks a brow "You didn't damage her overly much did you? Such would be a waste."
Fluidly he flows into a standing position. "Well she and I had been getting along marvelously but I smelled your return and sent her to warm the rental. It's still under my name so if they are tracking it though the computer resords it'll be there. I made sure to use a credit card with my actual name on it. Just in case, on that one. The route I've set was predetermined on my trip back from my previous journey. She won't know the end location untill she gets there. I left directions at a dozen markjers along the way that only leads to the mext marker. Therefore she cannot be a liability. Her instructions give times and numbers to call to confirm safty remains."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Wed 09:03AM EST
Passion. Lust. And that tiny voice that cries at her, knowing what she did was wrong and still could not help herself. Irony of ironys, her life was the Comedy of Errors. . . because to err in ignornace is still.to.err.

He's right. She gives as good as she gets, water amde her fluidly graceful and manipulative. . Zapaderin and her trainign made her passionate. . . Sarrath blood made her animalistic at times. Lucky Konrad. . .

But following him her thoughts are not given purchase. . when the blow comes (so.quickly) and blackness bleeds over forested sight. . .

Fool girl. You've tipped the scales further. . .

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 09:10AM EST
Some low sound in his throat, a long guttural rolling growl that might, might just be a laugh. "I'm sure they'll get along great on the roadtrip...she has instructions on what to tell Nadja when she awakens. As long as the girl believes it, she won't even have to ride in the trunk."

The Ahroun's tongue licks across his lips, flatter, thinner than the human organ. He scents the air and then shifts the inert warm body in his arms. "Move quickly...but carefully. Ra'gon is a Theurge. Their eyes are everywhere."

"I will see you shortly, Bobtail."

And, turning, the Glabro strides slopeshouldered through the dark woods. One last diversion...

A note left for the Rom.

A note, penned by Konrad, incriminating Alexis - indicating that Nadja was under the protection of the House of Vrdoljiak. A telephone number is left at the bottom: Konrad's cellular. Whether they believed it or not was up to them. Konrad was done here.

Storm Crow

Wed 09:18AM EST
She's been instructed that incase of capture to tell her captors that if she does NOT call and confirm her safty that we will know, thus calling at the wrong time will tip us, or that if she is not captured the proper procedure will be stuck to. Either way we'll have roughly 3 hours warning minimum."

He moves over and looks at Nadja. His hands clasped behind his back and a nutral look on his face. Right leg strong as ever. THe faked injury gone among just the two of them.

"Now that you're close you understand the perils of my infiltration rhya?"
A smile plays across his classicly plain features. He could be 1 of 1000 people you see every day. Not overly handsom not ugly he blends in so well with the crowd that it's almost uncanny. It's almost like somone went out of their way to make a generalized sterotype male. His only distinguishing feature is that he's slightly above adverage height.
Just standign there. Bare feet away from Konrad the Knife finds it hard to focous on him. To commit his features to memory. They simply defy the minds ability to track in that fashion.

(Harlequin)
it had been rich pickings tonight, those fools all so eager to part with thier money anyway that they throw it away in those electronic machines did not notice the shadow that passed through them. did not note the oen who so stealthily weaved his way along the isles of slot jockeys selling ther soul to the gambling god in a hope of jackpot. making some fat gaje richer. no only later when all thier quatres are spent and all thier money gone will they notice the wallet missing. those chips they kept so carefully. those notes all gone. the leather containers tossed carelessly into some rubbishbin as he passed.

now well now well no he relaxes. making his way out of the casino and heading towards the boardwalk he casually juggles 4 apples. that he snagged from a fruit platter in one of the casinos dinning rooms.

(Alexis)
She has returned to the boardwalk for some reason that is unknown to even her, but as a rule, she follows her hunches – the have always proven to be correct. As such, she is now leaning against the wall of some storefront or another, hands tucked into the pockets of leather coat, the heel of a boot resting against the bricks behind next to the other knee, dark gaze scrutinizing, watching, listening, learning something from all those that pass. 99% of her job is observation, after all.
Dark hair pulled back into single thick braid that lays over her shoulder so as not to pull against the bricks, slacks and silk shirt completing the ensemble under that jacket, and she seems unbothered by the cold.
The juggling Harlequin catches her gaze, and she arches a brow, slightly, and as he passes a hand slips from her jacket and faster then she should be snags one of those juggled apples, hand falling to rub it against sleeve and clean it before even teeth snap a bite from succulent fruit.

(Harlequin)
two of the remaining three apples dissapear as if by magick. only one left snagged out of the air. and bitten into. turning slowly to look at she who would take one of his hard earned apples... head titled to the side dark khol lined eyes looking at her. a smile predatory deadly delicious smile

(Alexis)
Two disappear, and she doesn’t take her eyes off him, jaw working as she chews the stolen bite of the apple, another taken and given the same precise work of muscles, teeth and tongue before it’s swallowed. Throughout the long moments (eternity) she simply watches him, and finally she speaks, voice thick with Russian accent, though her English is perfect, and grammatically correct. Precise. “Good Evening, Harlequin.” Teeth tear into the apple again.

(Harlequin)
that brngs him up short mouth about to take its second bite on that green apple. head straightens slowly as dark lithe body sinks into a bow an ever so mocking one at that. a florish of that grey hodded coat. "Good evening my lady" he could be born anywhere either here or on the continent. the soft lilt of his romany tongue hidden behind a smooth facede. "i do not beleive i have had the pleasure""

(Alexis)
Lips curve into a slow smirk, dark gaze unreadable as she keeps that unsettling, direct gaze on him. The mocking bow receives only a slight dip of her chin in acknowledgement, perhaps she believes she deserves such things – mocking or no. Her very bearing speaks of confidence, an aura that surrounds her, almost visibly. “I am positive you have not.” And equally positive that he will not. Glib romany tongue hidden, but not completely, under oh so smooth façade.

(Harlequin)
another bite of that apple slowly chewing it before he swallows tongue darting out to run over lips in that sly seductive manner a single drop of the apples juice frozen for a second before it is claimed and relished. his smile changes subtly as he straightens looking at you eyes sweeping over you predatory once more that sweet hunters smile a predator in human clothing....
"and my most mysterious stalker do you have a name by which i can call you. a name i can savour, something buy which i can define your beauty?"
(Rolling sweet hunters smile - 6D10 Dice Roll: 3; 10; 1; 3; 9; 7)


(Alexis)
She is not watching his lips, and other then the periphery tug at the edges of her vision, her gaze remains locked on his. The sly seduction in that smile seen in the depths of his eyes, and that brow lifts just a touch, and perhaps the smirk softens just a bit at the edges. However, the aura that surrounds her, the confidence in which she holds her very being does not waver. Her voice is as cool as it was with the first words. “Such things defy definition, do they not?” Her beauty, her name, her stalking – any and all of the above. “And thus by an attempt to savor only defiles the inherent beauty within a single name.” She has one, but she is not giving it out. Yet.

(Simon)
There is a fine line between shadow and reality, between darkness and light, on that nebous line there is fathoms and fathoms of depth. In those depths a faint fiew choose to dwell, of those scant few there are fewer still that do so out of choice. Of those very few, a miniscule ammount watch the watchers.
Those few. Those blessed few move though the shadow and wakig worlds sampeling both light and darkness, life and death at their leasiure. They are the judges, the assassins, the choosers of the slain.
Tonight he shadows are long, the winder is upon new jersery, Nights are long and the days short, gray skys aboive disgorge a steady almost unrelenting stream of powery snow. The storm that hit the north east just days ago has abated and in that land of grayness, as the pollutants soil the chrisp whitness a blur moves. Hard to make out at high noon in the middle of a footballfield painted stark white this flickering image is nothing but darkness wrapped in shadow, cloaked in silence and given breath by the storm itself.

It moves along the boardwalk effectivly cloaked from eye and ear alike.

(Harlequin)
"ahhh but i do not wish to defile it or even capture it. what i wish is but to have something by which to describe it. even if in the descrpition it would pale from the reality. something by which i can explain to others what they miss in seeing such a beauty for themselves. " his smile grows wider as he watches her. he is enjoying himself another bite of the apple (it is said that the apple os the fruit of knowing. does that make you eve and harlequin the serpent?)

(Alexis)
She too, continues to eat her apple, merely watching this bastet whom she will soon be called upon to deal with. It is curiosity that brought her hear tonight, it is a hunch that has played him into her hands, perhaps it is merely a deal struck with the devil that shimmers between dark and light and as always watches the young cliath She chooses another bite, and waits a long moment as she considers and chews carefully. Finally, a word – a single syllable that means everything and nothing at all. “Taiga.” (If he is the serpent, she is the winter chill that permeates the soul and fills it with knowledge the moments before death.)

(Jastima Ves’Tacha Nadja)
rrrriinnnggg,ringringringring riiinnnggg

The pealing like an announcement. The bells a message, warning, and invitation in one. The bearer? Striding like she always did, healthy confidence and sultry grace in liquid motion. Poured into soft black leather pants with loops of black bells hanging low on her rolling hips. Jacket ended at her waist, tailored close and tight, in furlined leather as well. What was she trying to prove? That she had the strength to face the next few months as a Rom. Strength. . and a stubborn (I.will.not.break) pride. Making her way down the walk, to the descant of whispers as she passes various Romani ventures.


(Konrad)
Up above, on the roof of the boardwalk boutique, crouched out of sight of the sidewalk directly below: the muscular Alpha. The half-moon set long ago. The rooftop is shrouded in shadow, and he is shrouded all in black.

Just listening. For now. Evaluating performances, if you will.

(Harlequin)
he is on edge yet does not notice anyone else near them. who is connected to this one. how does she know his name. it is not the one he uses when preforming . it would be nice to know. how Taiga (if that is what it is ) rolls of his tongue "thankyou madam. and may i prehaps enquire to how you know of me?"

(Nadja)
She may look casual, calculated, controlled. . . but a tightness to the eyes perhaps? betraying more. She watched tonight, searched. . . and with the smile of an angel falling to earth on her painted lips, she went forth to her own battles. Oh the irony. . . as her eyes fall on one she knew. . . Harlequin. The path of her singing walk changing ever so slightly, to meet him, with his mysterious woman. Too bad. She was Rom, marhime Rom, but still Rom. He could greet his sister before he played wiht his toys.

(Alexis)
Her smile slides once more into a smirk as she watches him, before slender shoulders lift and fall again. He may inquire, but he has not as yet. He merely asked if he could ask the question he wishes the answers too. The Philodox watches him, continuing to work toward the core of succulent fruity flesh, teeth snap, rend, tear, and chew.. smooth throat flexes in swallow that pulls it down to nourish the depths of chill within her frame. Taiga. The winter forests of her home, the frigid depths of wasteland that is so apt to describe who she has become. Chin dips in slight nod, and voice slides thickly accented English free again… “You may.” Permission giving for question to be asked… the judge plays with words as easily as the accused…

(Harlequin)
the sound of bells brings his gaze breifly from the woman in front of him to her that walks towards them. a smile a geniune smile spreads slowly across his face. "sastimos pena"

gaze swiviling back to the woman. so she chooses to mince words. "my sweet lady, prey do sate my curiousity and tell me how is it you know my name?"

(Alexis)
Dark gaze swings toward the approaching woman before soft chuckle is born, at the finally asked question. A final bite of the fruit is taken, and well-aimed toss sees the apple core falling into the nearby garbage can with neat precision. Her hand slips into her pocket again, and only then does she decide to answer. “Simple. Your reputation precedes you.”

(Nadja)
And it comes. That picture perfect smile of beguilement and sweet promise. Gracing lips and filling eyes, drawing off tension and changing body language. The game begins, and she's merely putting on her uniform. A glance cut to Alexis before she responds to Harlequin's greeting, and his smile. Was he happy to see her? Did he see the mark upon her, the black bells (scarlet letter) she bore? Of course, maybe its kinder to not question one of the Blood who doesn't seek to punish her more.

"Sastimos miro prala. Sar san?"

The romani flowing like wine from her mouth, with that faintest accent lending it mystery. I prefer this mystery. . .

Then she comes to stop, casual, looking from Harlequin to the woman. Nothing overt but you could almost think she was posing, that innate is her dancer's grace now.

"Greetings."

(Gallows)
He is there, amidst the late night denizens of the boardwalk, heading away from the vicinity of the pier to casually take in the flashing lights of Atlantic City's sinful pleasures. Frigid ocean breezes rolled off of black oceans to cut across his lean frame. The thickness of his black racing leathers provided protection from the harsh drafts. The heavy thud of his boots echo over the worn planks, moving in a quick rapid succession as he crossed over them. He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his coat, lips pursed together in a grim line as warm air smokes from his nostrils to mis before the weathered lines of his tanned features.

(Simon)
Eyes blink slowly

(Harlequin)
softest of purrrs hidden in that bubbling laugh such a sinister sound, his voice slides low and deep like warm honey, promises of nepharious deeds done between black silk sheets. of dark desires met part threat part promise it pours from between his lips "Really and what would my reputation be?" a step closer, a narrowing of that distance between them hes not exactly tall yet he seems to bring himself up to his full hight to tower that smile the stare becomes especially dangerous deadly. hes trying to intimidate you..

as for nadja well he is marhime due to his mixed blood he is outcaste due to what he is so to issolate her for her black bells, unlikely? he slips into romany to talk to her although he does not move from looking at alexis his gaze does not shift. ~i have been better pena, and you my sweet?~

(Nadja)
She could almost laugh, watching Harlequin at work. The woman no one she knew, not Rom, but gaje, and so the spectacle mildly amusing. ~Hardly the way to win a woman's heart, prala, but then, maybe you lack skill there.~ Such thoughts only fuel her smile. Once more in romani to him.

"Mashkar le gajende leski shib si le Romenski zor. Mishto homme dikava tute. So keres, miro prala?"

Was she being rude by spekaing in a tongue the woman couldn't understand? Oh well. . .

(Alexis)
He steps closer, and still she does not move. He purrs in a bubbling laugh and still again she does not move. His voice promises of heated delight meant to soften winters chill and thaw the ice from well bred veins and still, she. Does. Not. Move.
Intimidation is a tricky thing. On one hand, it turns the sufferer into something akin to jello, it pulls at her stomach and gnaws at her senses and a flicker in her gaze shows this. On the other hand, there is the training, the reservation that comes from who she is, the intensity of the desire to Never. Show. Weakness. One can be tortured for days, suffering the intimidation and outright fear of ones captors, and still it shows only in the tightening of lips, the flash of something in dark eyes, the clench of fists inside the pockets of her coat.
And when one of her training is intimidated, it is true to form to Snap. Back. What happens when your corner a canine…
Her smile is slow, and it slides into dangerous smirk as weight pulls from hips first, the rest of her body flowing from the wall as she closes the distance between them completely and her voice growls across his ear “that of a philandering cat that is unworthy of our time, yet always seems to have his fingers in the wrong bowls… watch your back, kitty cat…”

(Simon) to Konrad Vrdoljiak: He would hear a soft snort of decention. "She told him she knew he was a cat... it's a secret..."

(Nadja)
Well, seeing him otherwise engaged with the gaje gal, she merel smiles a bit. No, let him have his fun. English now for both their benefits.

"Well, Prala. . . I'll leave you to your fun."

Striding off in that entriely too confident way she has.

(harlequin)
for now nadja is ignored there is a more pressing buisness and he is not going to let himself be distracted. he will appologise if he gets the chance later.

the smallest of signs is not missed the tightening of fists the way balls form in jacket pockets the material pulled tight. over clenched fingers and hands. the acrid smell of fear that seems to permeate the air. risine apple slowly to his mouth he bites it stright through sharp teeth cutting through the core snap the geasture is deliberate your spine your neck snap

some they yell they berate they scream, others they are cold emotionless, the threat however is just as deadly help in his voice held in his eyes, his voice is the low sound of someone who would enjoy tieing you up. its the voice of someone who would do all those unspeakable things. the sinful pleasure still flowing "i think prehaps you are the one who should be careful Rikono those who spill words carelessly where all canhear often end up finding themselves without a voice... who told you?"

(Alexis)
Ah.. but a cornered dog will bite, and a cornered intimidated dog will bite harder. Her words still a hissed growl against his ear, the tremble in her body held at bay by ramrod straight posture, the things taught when she was but a child dredged up in memory to strengthen spine and her chuckle falls in growled voice spilled against lobe. “I am far from careless, Romani whore, none can hear but you… and my beta has spilled all knowledge of your slandering ways to my pack. We will teach you manners, or you will die trying.” The truth from the lips of the Judge, as she turns her head slightly into him, breathing deeply of his scent. The object of fear marked in memory..

(simon)
to Konrad Vrdoljiak: his whisper again from the unseen one "She's tipped the hand.. what's the order?"

(Konrad)
to Simon Kovach: Konrad simply raises a hand: hold. Wait.

He's still evaluating.

(Harlequin)
that makes him laugh that bubbling purrrr of a laugh so sinister so sinful so delicious. he circles her slowly not quite touching as he draws a breath in through his mouth and nose tasting smelling breathing her in. hers is a scent he will not forget. that delicious lick of his lips "your pack? " such scorn what you are afraid to fight alone " my little russian harlot obviously you are not as careful as you think, " harlequins not a whore, how dare you even imply such a thing "and your beta told you? who would this marvelous beta who has obviously left you under many a mmisconception be?"

(Konrad)
to Simon Kovach: ...and just like that, he's done evaluating. He leans over and speaks into the nearly invisible Ragabash's ear. Two words.

"Show him."

(Alexis)
So afraid to fight alone, no.. she is not, and her smile is cold as the winter ice across Taiga, clinging to the trees in great daggers of crystalline purity (though within it is melting fast by the tremor that burns in her belly) “Harlot? Is that the best you can do with your pretty words and sinister lips? Do you not know what a beta is? Are you stupid as well as blind? Ah, but your reputation that you so wished to hear of claims such, it is nice to see that it is not a futile rumor spread by lips that could not have known.” And whispered voice stills her own, as chin lifts slightly.

(Harlequin)
"ahhhh simon of the nooooo tail (ooooh you know what hes impying) i should of known, not still crying over the rejection from my pena are you?" he is standing still dead still not a muscle moves a knife to his throat and groin afterall "i take it then you are her beta then"

(Simon)
He remains silent as the blade sticking though the cloth of his pants tilts just enough to slip between his penis and his scrotum. "Come...... Again?"
Ohhhh yes you know what HE'S implying

(Alexis)
She steps back, and with ease resumes her place against the wall, foot propping against brick near her knee as she watches Simon and Harlequin. Her calm restored with the feeling of ‘pack’ and the knowledge he was indeed there to watch. She chuckles, softly, amused, as fingers find slim gold cigarette case, and she takes the time to light one, and tuck it all away, exhaling a slow.. “I believe I told you to watch your back, did I not?”

(Harlequin)
poor poor simon i still have a tootsie pop for you if you like " he laughs he actually laughs hes not intimidated sure hes worried about looking his bits but hes not afraid. time for the bluff. "you shouldnt of let nadja walk off simon that was sloppy of you look around look where we are. this place is crawling with my people" the rom i mean his pena was seen here in thier company "do you really think she just wandered off..."

(simon)
He chuckels having waited for the Rom to run his mouth he flicks his left wrist severing the mans penis even as the point of the right blade presses dangeriously aginst the bottom of his jaw. one pound more pressure and it'll break skin. to be jamed up into his brain. His whisper soft "What makes you think she's still alive? Little puppet..."

(Alexis)
And she? Watches the play as it unfolds before her, smoking in silence.


(Simon)
Harle shifts up into a big furry kitty as the knife plays across his johnson but doens't cut. Simon goes along for the ride as he takes off. Seeing that the viel is well and truly screwed he joins the kitty in crinos. Biting vishiously at the back of his neck trying to incapasitate him. THe kitty runs some more reaching back to grab Simon and pull him over, teeth coming away with mostly fur. Spit ack!!! Simon hits the ground as Konrad makes his move and then once Harle is down he moves forward to fullfill his priomose.

(Konrad)
What happened?

It's a fucking blur. Such is the way of the shifters. Simon makes a small incision - and suddenly the sleek young man is huge, impossibly fast, faster than the human mind can comprehend.

And moving.

Simon reacts nearly as fast, clinging and shifting up with the Bagheera, black wolf on black panther. There's a bite - blood spews - and meanwhile, another huge black form is bounding off the fuckin rooftop, streaking up out of nowhere.

Simon is tossed aside. But by then the black Hispo-wolf has caught up, and bites to crippling effect.

As the Bastet goes down, the Ahroun wheels, sharp claws digging into asphalt for traction as he charges back, faster than the eye can blink, and slams into his Philodox with nearly eight hundred pounds of fury.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!

...raw fury.

(harl)
therea a twitch the only warning he gets before knife slices so close and it raises in him a furious tide of anger body shifts faster than he can blink the black panther making a break for it running. and then the bite on his back teeth sink he screams Brking roar ripping the thing from his back. only to get tackled from the side lights out thats it game over blissful dark flowing in to take away the pain.

(Alexis)
What. Happened.
It’s all a blur and after she stepped back to allow her Beta space to… (there was to be a trial) …capture the bastet, he looses the mind gaia gave him and attacks… they all go furry and freak out and before she can even regain her wits and head to help or stop or anything
There is another blur.
There is 800 pounds of fury slamming her into the unforgiving brick.
Head slams back against the wall and even before she can possibly figure out how much is broken in the full on attack of the Alpha against his Philodox she’s screaming her reply to both them… “THERE WAS TO be a TRIAL are you OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS!” and whiplash fast and furious she snarls through both minds “ Leave. Him. Whole. There was no Trial, there was no honor.” Though it is already to late. She may be killed for her insolence but there was to be a trial to prove her worth, not some fiasco of Ahroun brawn without brain in the middle of the boardwalk even as she’s raging and shifting under the fury still pressed against her.

(Simon)
Getting to the alley he just drops the body on the ground. Giving it a kick. Muttering in croatian "Who's laughing now kitty??"
Kneeling and switching to english he pulls a small blade. carefully wrapped. A skinning knife. Switching to rnglish he smacks Harles cheeks "Stay with me witty one... stay with me. You remember all your insults that you thought I indured? I'm sure you remember them now, yes?"

(Konrad)
She dares?!

Hispo becomes Crinos in the blink of an eye, a massive handpaw closing about her throat and lifting her like a rag doll. The huge Ahroun, thoroughly shorn of anything remotely resembling civilization, wheels about and hurls his Philodox across the street. Then he pauses long enough to throw back his wolven head and roar loudly enough for every fearmaddened human in every apartment on the block to shriek and shudder -

LEAVE HIM BE, BOBTAIL!

That reckoning will come later. For now, the Crinos is bounding across the street in a single leap, landing braced atop the Philodox (who is by now Crinos if she had half a mind at all), caging her in: half a ton of black fur, hot muscle, hard bone, pure blood, and five steelhard talons planted in the center of her chest, holding her down.

She might think she would be killed for her insolence. But the Knife growls low, We merely caught the whelp. It would have been easier. He fought. We adapted. He is whole. He will heal. And there will be a trial when he does.

One week. Be ready.

(harl)
all he gets is a very very pained moan

(Simon)
He beta is there, in homid cooing to the bastet. the skinning knife ready but not in use as of yet. Those pale green eyes flicker up to Konrad as he enteres the space with him. Not a look of defiance but one of accention. He'd done as he was told he waits over the crumpeled body. He'd heard the "one week" Pronouncement. He thought that a bit silly. One night was waiting too long when you had a captive. You wring the information out of it then dispose of the evidence.
He doesn't say this. He just remains there, gently patting Harles cheeks. He knows the fera can hear him even as he moans in pain.

His hand lifts from the Half-Moon's breastbone, and he rears on two legs, shambling-stalking toward the alleyway to see what the cruel Beta was up to.

(Alexis)
She. Dares.
He Shifts, and she flies and with a snarl snaps to Crinos before she is half across the street, landing in a bone jarring crunch of large form the roar shattering windows and sliding and with a bound there are five talons holding her down.
She is not finished yet, but the words are bitten back. They will be spoken at Trial in one week. She. Will. Be. Ready. And Gaia help whomever crosses her between now and then.
Alpha stands and walks away, and she takes a few seconds to heal damage done from rush and throw, before she stands, shifts down again, and stalks away.

(Konrad)
He hasn't bothered to leave the warform. Full-brushed black tail lashing from side to side - agitation, not friendliness - the yellow eyes glower down at the fallen Bastet and then, relenting a notch, at Simon.

Judgment is not your task, Moonless Night. That is the task of the Half-Moon. His eyes are keen; he is more attuned to emotion and expression than many Philodoxes. He can sense his packmate's impatience. Learn to wait. The balance-keepers must have their say. We are not bloodthirsty and rash. We may taint our honor for the good of the Nation, but that does not mean we have none.

Such pretty propaganda, spoken so earnestly. One wonders if he actually believes it.

A claw points down at Harlequin, and the Crinos begins to fade acros the barrier between worlds. Take him away and be sure he does not escape. Bind him with silver.

(Harl)
between here and there konrad sees it flying away a lovely little spirit so out of place in the city a butterfly? in winter. prehaps it was just imagination.

(Simon)
He looks down at the man below him and nods. He would do as he was told. though holding one that was easily found when he had family was still foolish. "Do not find solice in your stay feline."
He leans closer his voice a hiss "Your preshious Nadja...... DO you think we let her go to spread the word? oh no... she screamed... she begged... she pleaded. Offered her body... her soul.... ohhh how her pain transformed her. How her cries were music of the night... Then she broke.... and hearing her mind shatter was like sweet symphony.
SHe fouled her self. and wallowed in it in her fear. All while you were chatting up my packmate, attempting to flirt. Your kin was breaking.

Oh... and your loving family... your preshious Strider allies that sheltered you? Gone. You were the last. The lone. The one we rounded up as a end gap measure.
You will stand trial for your crimes. You will not know peace untill Death. I have a week to play with you. And each... insult you've levied... will be repaied in Full."
His whisper sweet.
"Oh and the little one..... the other bastet... was she special?" Simon strokes Harls hair smearing the blood from his neck wound into it "I'll have to pay her special attention... when games with you bore me."

(Harl)
a soft buzz noise nothing no his body is focused only on the healing for now.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 07:45AM EST
In the lilting tongue of the Romani came the words. No one else meant to know what she said, except maybe eavesropping family. Facing east, as sun rose, she knelt in supplication. Odd sight to see for her. Easy smiling, playful Nadja. .so serious. . so contrite. . .

so diminsihed

"Daenna who gave life and family unto the Rom, beloved sister of Sarrath, mother of our blood, please give me forgiveness, give my blood back its honor, give me the chance to make amends to the Romania."

Fervent and heartfelt

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 07:53AM EST
The Knife wouldn't know her as easily smiling, playful Nadja. He had, after all, only seen her a handful of times, and most of them from afar. The once they spoke in length, he managed to offend her immediately. Usually he has better luck than that.

When the sun rises, he's returning from a last patrol of his lands before sleep. Predators and enemies stalked at night, and so it's at night that he's most active. A nocturnal creature, the Knife: black as the night, and as im(op)pressive.

Black in the dawn, too, the tips of his fur barely gilt by the sunrise. From the stand of trees fifty yards away he watches her, yellow eyes gleaming like coins. He is standing on his land, a hundred feet or more from the border, but clearly visible if she turned to look. When she finishes her prayer and rises he barks once, a deep rough sound issued from a broad, barrel chest.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 07:59AM EST
Black, blscker, blackest. . . even she bore some herself. Her rise accompanied by soft bellsong once more. Not the silent rom now, but the marked one, though only Rom knew the signifigance of those darkly painted bells. Black bells (Scarlet Letter) around hips, slung low over poured on jeans, black bells on wrists peeking from beneath her winter's jacket, and black bells strung rather artfully through her long long night balck hair. Can't see them so easily. . . but hear them. Oh yes.

His bark and she whirls, surprised. He seemd to do that to her, though why she didn't just expect the Lords is unknown. Maybe she just assumed everyone slept at dawn. Half expecting to see Simon appear somewhere too she moves somewhat closer, watching Konrad with Hazel eyes that look tired. Long night though hadn't been ill in hours.

"Good morning"

English for the rom impaired.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 08:04AM EST
At first glance it's hard to tell him from his tribemate. Both are night-black, thick across the shoulder in a way wolves known to man are not. But this one is larger, even more powerfully built, and carries himself with a self-possession that the Beta did not have. His head and tail (a full tail with a full brush, unlike the stub his Beta had) are both held high, though as she speaks he becomes larger and larger still, then smaller again.

She will be glad to know he wore his dedicated clothes today, fabric growing out of fur. He speaks, the last of the toothy lisp leaving his low, smooth-as-wine tones even as the last of the feralness leaves his face - except, of course, in the tawny hue of the eyes that, even at this distance, resonant with the light of the sun.

"And a good morning to you, Nadja." Crouching on his haunches, he studies her, his head tilting ever so slightly to the left. "You look tired."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 08:09AM EST
Yes, thank god for small miracles, he wore dedicated clothes. The whirling dervish of trouble (for.men) might yet be a bit gunshy around the gajo. She had been played rather neatly by them lately. They walked abouit smiling and fancy free. . .she was stigma to her people.

"Perhaps because I've yet to sleep."

No invitation, nor does she cross that line, likewise lacking invitation. A meeting over territory lines. ~Can't invite him in as she was only kin. . . ~ Gemile's word still fresh.

"And what brings you here at Day's birth?"

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 08:14AM EST
A small smile touches his mouth as though something she said had amused him. Rising to his feet, he comes down the slope of the hill, the placement of his feet sure and certain without his ever having to look down. Again, he stops quite neatly at the border.

"Morning patrol." He turns to look over the spread of snow-whitened, dawn-pinked forest. "Visiting my lands before I sleep. You never did answer me the other night...why do you now bow to the sun and moon each and every night? A sudden religious conversion doesn't seem to be your thing."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 08:20AM EST
Daenna and Sarrath, brother and ister Rom, the first from whose children sprang the powerful and ancient lupine Rom. There was hidden in them more then just Garou and kin. . . oh secrets within secrets within secrets. Summoning up that smile, like a familiar spirit, sweetly beguiling, wholly coy, meeting tawny eyes from across teritory lines.

"And why should religion not be within my pruview?"

Was she offended? He did have the knack, had indeed insulted her with almost the first words ever spoken between them. . but had been as quickly forgiven, for his ignorance and with an apology given by him. Letting the clever facade slowly dribble back into place, the mask that Gaje see, love, adore, want. . .

"Perhaps you should try it, Konrad of Thunder's Children."

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 08:29AM EST
Ah, but a mask once removed is hard to don again. For this he has only an everlasting silence while his head tilts, slowly and slightly, the other way. He studies her, and there is much of wolf and little of man in his eyes.

"Do you suppose I am so foolish as to believe in this lighthearted coyness, when a moment before I watched you nearly weep before the sun?" Understand, now, there is no anger in his tone. There is only a gentle, warm curiosity, as enveloping and alien as some womb-warn ocean. "Do you suppose I am like that Fianna whose lustful scent I have caught half a mile away, to be so easily gulled, guiled, beguiled by your temptress ways?"

He raises a hand and, greatly daring, daring much, touches the loop of bells that hangs upon her body. Perhaps only the experimental, curious, and rather impersonal way in which he fingers the bells excuses his actions. Thoughtfully, "You did not wear black bells before.

"I asked you a question, Nadja of the Rom, and the longer you wait, the more curious I become."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 08:39AM EST
"Religion is a very deeply moving thing. Why shouldn't tears threaten in sublime communion?"

A zealot? Thats a odd picture for her. The oh too vivid memory of her lesson from the previous night making her words very carefully chosen, carefully concealing. No, not all gajo believed the vision she created. . . for them she gave back the facade anyways. Its annoying looking at an illusion you know is there but can't banish. If his hands on the bells bothered her not even a twitch betrayed it. She almost seemed to wear them with pride, stubborn (I.will.not.be.broken) pride. The rom did not tend to create secondary roles for their kin. . . did not enslave them, mistreat them without cause, or look on them as property, prized possessions or worse. . . they were as equal as garou. . because they were Rom. In some cases treated better. . . becuase they carried rarer gems within thier blood.

"Why you assume your question being asked means it will be answered I don't know, Konrad. . . you may be a wolf, but even a wolf can be killed by curiousity. Put simply. . . I miss my home."

Ah warm simple Castile, where roaming bands and blood family thronged. Gaje not so prevalent in the teeming camps of her people. . . Spain not so bitter as New Jersey. Mediterranean flower blooming like an exotic additon to America's garden state.

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 08:43AM EST
Thankfully, his curiosity seems to have diverted. He inclines his jaw a half-inch, perhaps in recognition of her skillful words; those strange tawny eyes half-lid, and look over her head at the golden sun before returning to her. Looking down, his lashes shade his eyes in complex, quasichaotic patterns: shadowblack upon amberhue.

"Tell me of your home," he invites.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 08:48AM EST
A simple, non threatening topic, one for which she could relax a bit, but never completely. No, there is no loss of careful control around gaje now. Once bitten. . . always shy. Watching the contrasts of dark and golden with a smile, a smile drawing into one of lovely reminscing. . . perhaps she did indeed miss home.

Tell me of the waters of your home . . Simon's words weeks and weeks ago.

"Its a good deal milder then this country, and warmer. Emerald foothills and snatches of old wood forests where we make our camps, larger then this one. Its a comforting place."

Could have described in such simple words any number of places. Could he identify that faint accent, that spanish accent, the vague spanish tinge to her appearance. Even purer blooded Rom could bear the signs of centuries of mingling. Castellan Rom, Spanish Rom. . .

"What of your home, Konrad? As much an ideal for you?"

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 08:55AM EST
"My home?" It's spoken with a smile as though at some secret amusement. He takes a step to the side and finds a tree to lean his broad shoulder against, watching the eastern horizon over her shoulder. "Which one? I was born in the States, not far from here. My family," the word is spoken in a way that denotes not a family but a clan, a dynasty, "has a place in upstate New York, where I spent much of my early childhood. I don't remember much of it - my childhood - but I can tell you upstate New York isn't nearly so dismal a place as this. There are many trees there, deciduous ones that change their colors in the fall. Winding paths take you deep into the countryside. Treelined, brisk, mountains rolling down from the Catskills.

"But I grew up in the Czech Republic. It was Czechoslovakia then. Very different, that land. Larger mountains, rockier, darker. Stormy. Awe-inspiring, when lightning illuminates the landscape in a flash of cold white. It's the ancestral home of my family.

"So I leave it up to you to decide. Do I sound like I miss my home?"

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 09:01AM EST
"Miss it? Perhaps. Acknowledge its place in your blood? Certainly."

Even if she hd hated Castile, it would still be home, still mark itself on her in a hundred tiny indescribable ways. He came from storm tossed Eastern Europe. . he of Thunder's Children. Coincidence? Likely not. Coincidence that Prala came from similar areas, with his dark, stormy personality? Again, likely not. The information gleaned stored away where her secrets of gaje rested. Noah's secrets, Konrad's secrets, Simon's secrets and countless more. . . a vault of the mind.

A soft peal of song from her bells as she shifted, weight from one foot, to rest in a casual pose, body subtly apparent, subtly sensual, and always graceful. Its innate now, long years of work to create movements she no longer even thought of. He cool calm and collected in his games. . .she warm, alluring and temping in hers.

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly

Konrad Vrdoljiak

Sun 09:13AM EST
It's a gentle tease, "For one who misses her home so much that she's moved to religious breakthrough and tears, you certainly don't seem to know the sound of homesickness very well, Nadja."

The soft peal of bells draws his attention to her body - which, of course, is the purpose of the bells. Adornment. Attention-catcher. There is appreciation for feminine beauty in his long lingering glance, but he is mated, and she is Rom. There is that, also, in the lack of returning motion in his form. The unspoken dialogue of bodies is silent. He is relaxed and still, leaning against the tree for another moment or so.

"If you must lie," laughing now, "you must learn to lie better than that."

Then, nudging away from the tree bark, "But you're right. My asking questions does not correlate with your answering them. I'll leave you to your secrecy. It makes you more interesting, anyway. Sleep well, Nadja."

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Sun 09:23AM EST
"Ah, but not every answer can be measured by a simple yes or no nor would I ever want to be so dull as to answer like that."

The language of body. The dance, the song, the game. . . her bujo, which she did well, knew intimately, and lived within. Not for her to spend every moment eeking out existence on pickpocketing, clever games of chance or playing music for quarters in a park. No, she was the bujo. . not her talents, herself. Gemile leads from shadow, Ra'gon guides in darkness, and over them all is the mask of Nadja, the face many see within the camp. Idly wondering if the sneaky lords watched her other campfire activities as well, the dance, the song, the acrobatics. . .

"I am glad I am interesting, then. It makes for such a lovely game of cat and mouse with words for the future. I could say the same for you. . . ."

I prefer this mystery, cancels out my misery, and gives me hope. . .

"Te na khutshos perdal tsho ushalin"

Before turning to go in a cloud of her own bellsong.

Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 10:01PM EST
Evening prayers done to Sarrath on that too sweetly lilting voice. Even now it has that quality, even when she doesn't have it in her to play. So with the sunset some time past, the next prayer would not fall till sun rose once more. The night was her's. So why was it she sat beside the fire? Quietly watching it burn down, and adding fuel as it got low. She was real tonight. A real girl, perhaps alluring now for the lack of facade. No, when you traipse too close to the fire. . you will eventually get burned. .

and she was scorched. . .


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 10:08PM EST
"I have not heard you do that before this week, yet this is the third night in a row already." These words come to break her contemplation of the campfire, called from some twenty or thirty yards away, behind her. Look and she will see the Knife standing between two of the large rocks her brethren has set in ward against him and his. Casually dressed, hands clasped behind his straight back, he regards her from afar, his feet are carefully on his side of the dividing line between his land and the small peninsula of territory he has ceded to the Striders. Seeing that he has her attention, he nods at the boundary between territories. "May I?"


Bobtail

Thu 10:09PM EST
Lurk. Sulk. Unseen/heard movement. Down wind. Eyes keen. Ears sharp. Nose alert


Jastima Gemile

Thu 10:15PM EST
The door to the Vardo opened, light spilling out into the snowy ground. Her eyes narrowed, pupils rounding to adjust to the lack of light. Figure was clad in black cargo pants and a dark turtleneck. Camel coat hung open, extending to her knees. She let dangle from one hand the leather satchel as the other held the door adjar.


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 10:16PM EST
Startled. They were quite a ways out in the Barrens after all. Hazel eyes flying from glowing orange fire to the figure some yards away, on the outside of their camp.

Konrad

Shadowlord. Tribebrother to Simon, who she has not seen in some time now, since the night she went looking for Prala's hand in the city. Fixing that gaze on him. . she wasn't sure. If it could be imagined she wasn't sure what steps to take these days. What had seemed right before, or justifiiable had been wrong. . . and she was afraid of misstepping again.

So the silence between them lengthens after his request. It strings on and on, and she can't decide. . . the path I fear to tread . . and finally she opens her mouth to reply, when the vardo opens, and Gemile emerges. So the words halted. Would she have? He may not know now.

"She'enedra. . . We've a visitor requesting invitation to our camp."


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 10:18PM EST
Tawny eyes, not quite human, shift immediately with the opening of the door. The tall Lord bows slightly and courteously to the emerging Strider. Old World manners, is all; there is no deference in his steady, though unaggressive, gaze. "Neighbor. I recall you from the club."


Jastima Gemile

Thu 10:21PM EST
Chewing the last bit of apple in her mouth, she stepped from the doorway, letting metal slam against metal. Suckling upon one tooth, her head swivled to catch just whom her pena was speaking of.
"And whom requests our firelight?"

Feet carried her to her mirror image's side. Brow quirking as she looked the man from toe to head. "Ah" nodding finally, "So you're Konrad of the Thunder's Children?"


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 10:25PM EST
Casual, of course, is relative. Thick corduroys. Thick flannel shirt (not plaid. Solid-color: forest green). Thick dark sweater and black fleece-lined vest. Gloves. Boots. Dressed for the weather, to be sure, and every piece of exceeding quality and craftsmanship, though clearly and well-worn. He spends most his time in the great outdoors, after all.

Addressed, he inclines his head in acknowledgment. Pure blood runs in this one's veins, though he does not resemble anyone of recent memory. It would take a Galliard to remember his ancestors, but their deeds were great and many, that their aura lives on even in him. "That's right." No discernable accent in his voice, except for the slightest shortening of vowels that might or might not reflect Great Britain - though his features speak strongly of East Europe. "Cliath Full Moon of the Grandfather. I never did catch your name."


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 10:30PM EST
Silence reigns in Nadja. They weren't talking to her anyway, at least now, so she watches from her perch beside the fire. A serious study of them both. Like looking at herself when she looks over Gemile, and seeing the smiling predator when looking at Konrad. A Garou is a Garou is a Garou. Its a bit hard to seperate that wolf from man, in them after all.


Jastima Gemile

Thu 10:31PM EST
Her eyes floated from him, to her twin sister. She let drop the bag from her nimble fingers, hazel orbs holding a ting of twinkle meant for the saddened chavi beside her, "Jastima Gemile, darkless moon Child of Sarrath." Her gaze finally raising to him, pressing a soft smirk upon her lips, "To what honor do we give your visit?"


Bobtail

Thu 10:36PM EST
Sluk... sneak. Yeah.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 10:37PM EST
His eyebrows rise, but deliberately. So too does he speak: gently, but deliberately. "Come again?"

There's a balanced pause. Then he continues, "I'm looking for your packmate. Ra'gon."


Jastima Gemile

Thu 10:40PM EST
She shrugged a shoulder, "Yeah, what for?" The politeness did not leave her tone nor the smile which played her lips.


Khepera

Thu 10:40PM EST
Fleet of paw and resilent against the bitter snow. It drifts lightly across wide meadows and desolate glens, through tall, skeletal graveyards of barren trees. Small paw prints leave a trail in his wake, the underpads numb from the long trekk, in snow, but he does not seem to care. Those paws have scraped over worse terrain. A small, blackish-grey and tan jackal-wolf made his way across one of the snow-covered fields, the city left behind hours ago. His ears, like two antennae stand; atop his head alert to the sounds of the night. Amber wolf eyes scavaging across the terrain for any signs of moving shadows or other things that might draw his curiosity. An odd makeshift pack slung across his shoulders, with a special canine harness.


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 10:43PM EST
She doesn't look sad, persay. She looks thoughtful, serious. . .

diminished

Catching Gemile's eye, the twinkle, and one brow arching in question. Her conversation non verbal. ~What now Pena~ is nearly audible in that look. But Gemile is occupied in conversation and the gaze drops to refocus on Konrad once more. Intent, green flecked brown eyes, making 4 hazel orbs on Konrad. The power of twins.


Khepera

Thu 10:53PM EST
His speed remains at a constant pace, breaking into a run as he darts across the meadow towards the bleak line of trees. Only to slow down as he breaches the forest. A small series of murrs, ebb in his throat then. He feels a small breeze suddenly blow across his back. A small frigid wind cutting into his short winter coat, sending chills down his spine. He hears the wind-spirit tickle at his ears, twitching them back and forth, listening to what it had to say. The jackal quietly began to pick his way through the woods, moving along the edges of the Shadow Lords domain. His small presence, unseen, under the guise of Blur.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 10:53PM EST
Tawny eyes pass between the sisters and twins, thoughtful, before returning to the one that stands. "Would I be interrupting? If Ra'gon is otherwise occupied, I can easily seek him another time."


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 10:56PM EST
Was he interupting anything? Not apparently on Nadja's side. She's just sitting there after all, and had been for a short time before he had appaeared at their camp. Whether he was interrupting Gemile, was yet to be seen by her mirror.

"I was not engaged in anything you were interrupting Konrad."

First words she has utered to him that evening. Her prayers in romani some time before the last speech she had had. But who do you talk to in the middle of nowhere?


Jastima Gemile

Thu 10:57PM EST
Shaking her head, weight shifting from one foot to the other. Her hand absently flutters down to rest upon the shoulder of her twin, "Your presence is no interruption, Thunder's child." She gave no further inclination upon her prala, nor did she make haste to show either hatred or love for the one before their eyes.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 11:06PM EST
A faint smile traces over the Lord's strongboned features. "As you say, then," he replies, and crosses the border between his land and the Strider's. From there it's only a few dozen yards to the Striders' fire, where he sits on a lawn chair, a log, a stone, anything that's available, after a silent question with the raising of his eyebrows.

Settling himself, the tall Lord, whose attire today makes no attempt to hide an intimidating Ahroun physique, casts a single curious glance at the door of the camper. "I take it Ra'gon is otherwise occupied."


Bobtail

Thu 11:09PM EST
The stocky inky black wolf decloaks at the edge of the border. Sounds fill the night for a few moments. twigs and leaves russeling s the rite is dropped too. He heads to his alpha's side. Walking on 3 legs and holing his right rear off the ground.


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 11:10PM EST
She had not seen Prala since the other morning, but as exhausted as he had been, he would be sleeping for days. Eyes heated by the flicker of flames at her side of the fire. They turned up to Gemile at the hand on her shoulder. . . warning. . . comfort. . .merely casual. She couldn't read her mirror these days.


Bobtail

Thu 11:12PM EST
He sniffs at the twins and sits with a soft whimper to his leg.


Jastima Gemile

Thu 11:12PM EST
Her eyes grace his movements, turning to place her own body beside the quiet kin. Settling into one of many lawn chairs around the fire's light , "Well, have you ever known a Satarma not to be?" One leg crossing over the other.

Suddenly her brow arches as she watches Simon, who has been warned before, come unvitingly inside her boundry. Casting her disapproving gaze back towards Konrad, whom by Simon's action alone as cast this Lord's honor into sudden question. Sucks a tooth.


Khepera

Thu 11:14PM EST
Another soft murr rumbles in the jackal's throat to the small wind, as he speaks to the spirit again. It blows away from him to race ahead towards the kumpania. His nostrils flare, tongue rolling out to wash along his muzzle. He can taste and smell the presence of Others. Amber eyes remain watchful, still under the guise of Blur he breaks through on the edges of the camp, stopping in the shadow of a large oak tree to view them all from a distance.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 11:18PM EST
"Satarma?" echoes Konrad, mild perplexion coloring his tone. At the rustling Konrad's head comes up and around in a turn too quick for his surprise to be feigned, relaxing only as he recognizes the Ragabash wolf.

Relaxing, but not exactly...pleased.
"Bobtail..." nearly growled.

Turning about, then, he shoots Gemile an apologetic glance marred by his rather obvious annoyance. "My Beta," he says, "also requests, belatedly, permission to sit at your fire. I apologize. We are not yet...totem-bound. That is why I've come to seek Ra'gon."


Bobtail

Thu 11:19PM EST
He looks up and flicks an ear ~ws~ Alpha.


Jastima Gemile

Thu 11:22PM EST
Eyes, just as suddenly as that brow, go wide as the wind picks its way thru the camp. The firelight flickering shadows upon Konrad's face with the sweep of the chilling breeze.
She sighs a breath, narrowing her gaze softly. Nods in acceptance of his apology, now knowing that those that follow under him as alpha will bear that honor and dare not tarnish its seeming evermore with such callouse actions. "Totems are a tricky thing. You have a particular one you have already gone to invest in that has invested himself in you as well? These are the questions Ra'gon will ask of you."


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 11:23PM EST
Her eyes have gone from Konrad, to Simon. The oft times visitor turned stranger of late. It seemed his leg still troubled him. Still sitting though, eyes intently watching Konrad's packmate. What was it she was seeing there, thinking about? A study in nothing. .no emotions, words, or gestures to give away her inner workings.

Then a smile. The first that night. any have seen and its soft for all of them but the second time her mouth opens, wors for Simon.

"Its been some time, Simon. . ."


Ruv Ra'gon

Thu 11:26PM EST
Johannus was a tiresome spirit. One who never knew quiet to quiet jabbering relentlessly. As he carried the now corded and threaded remains, like a fireman, the full skeleton folded over his shoulder; That spirit talked aimlessly on and on over those 'savages' who so claimed his bones Ruv now returned him upon.

He was only a few yards away on the other side of the Vardo when he smelt the scents upon the air of others. Eyes flickering this way and that. Ears like antennea twisted round. He was in his full birth form. Tall and sleek. Powerful and lethe. The Black God of Annubis began to round the front.


Bobtail

Thu 11:27PM EST
He leans down to lick his favored leg. a soft whimper to go along with it and then looks up to Nadja and his ears flicker forward. His little bob tail wags gently in the night.


Khepera

Thu 11:29PM EST
Where Ruv was the visual ebodiment of Anubis, Khepera remained as his lupus counterpart. Statuesque and vigilant as he remains by his shadowy perched, disguised and watchful. Curious as to who they were.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 11:30PM EST
Konrad shakes his head, which bows for a moment as he idly rubs the mark of treesap from the heel of his hand. He may dress in fine clothing, but a mark like that only comes from chopping and hauling your own wood. Even Lords had to keep warm somehow.

"We have not yet contacted a totem, though we intend to summon an avatar of the great dragon Typhon. That is what we hope the Theurge Ra'gon would do for us, though," catching sight of Ra'gon now, he nods to the other and continues to speak, "we would understand if this were too much to ask. For the Totem Rite itself, we will seek a Crescent-Moon of our own tribe." A brief and startling grin flashes white. "We wouldn't dream of burdening you and yours with that task."


Jastima Gemile

Thu 11:35PM EST
She turns her gaze momentarily, following the nod of Konrad's. Her lashes fluttering at the sight of Prala.
Scratching her cheek as her eyes return to the Alpha Lord speaking, she nods her head. "A burden as you say I cannot forjudge, as is" the hand lowering from her face to gesture towards the Anubis incarnate, "for my Prala to determine."


Jastima Gemile

Thu 11:35PM EST
She turns her gaze momentarily, following the nod of Konrad's. Her lashes fluttering at the sight of Prala.
Scratching her cheek as her eyes return to the Alpha Lord speaking, she nods her head. "A burden as you say I cannot forjudge, as is" the hand lowering from her face to gesture towards the Anubis incarnate, "for my Prala to determine."


Jastima Gemile

Thu 11:35PM EST
She turns her gaze momentarily, following the nod of Konrad's. Her lashes fluttering at the sight of Prala.
Scratching her cheek as her eyes return to the Alpha Lord speaking, she nods her head. "A burden as you say I cannot forjudge, as is" the hand lowering from her face to gesture towards the Anubis incarnate, "for my Prala to determine."


Ruv Ra'gon

Thu 11:35PM EST
Unintelligeble mumbles filtered to his large twitching ears. Eyes seeing.....only four...another was lurking. Quiping his brow. Holding his tongue for now as he came closer. It seemed his destination with the skeleton was for the graveyard past them a ways


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 11:38PM EST
Likewise dos Nadja's eyes turn from Simon to Prala, and a barely perceptible nod by way of greeting. With his skeleton she hardly doubted he wanted to be interrupted right now. Listening to the conversation around her. Its not as if she had much to contribute so she gathered the long hair over her shoulder to finger comb it smooth.


Khepera

Thu 11:39PM EST
His tongue lolls out to lick along his muzzle, jaws spread wide to yawn. He shakes his small head, blinking a few times. He lowers his body down to the snow to get more comfortable. His ears fold back along his skull, hearing the silent chatterings as the small wind that was with him, starts to buzz around his ears again. It pricks at his winter coat, spiking it up along his back.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 11:46PM EST
"Of course." Anubis incarnate, so different now from the drunken (lunatic) man of a few nights past. There's a hint of amusement on the Lord's face as he watches the Theurge pass across their vision, and past to the graveyard.

Striders and their skeletons in the closets.

"But it does appear that he is, indeed, occupied." Wonder what tipped him off. Couldn't possibly be the carcass he bears. With that Konrad rises to his feet, six feet and two inches of not ungraceful strength towering over his apparently crippled packmate. The pup must have other talents to serve as Beta to this one. Maybe he makes Konrad laugh. Who knows?

"We've availed ourselves of your generosity long enough. I'll return another time, when your - " experiment, " - Prala does not have the spirits of the dead to put to rest."

A pause, as his tawny glance sweeps even the kin into the offer before returning to the Ragabash(?). "We are neighbors, now. Don't hesitate to seek my pack out should you ever be in need. I have seen our people cooperate brilliantly in the mountains of my ancestral homeland. There's no reason why we cannot have the same here."


Ruv Ra'gon

Thu 11:48PM EST
There was no color to his eyes. Where most of his people hued a brillant gold, some more feline than most, his were pools of black. Deeper than even the pitchness about his back. They looked upon the gathered as he neared to pass. Curving his path, the God-like Jackel strode to the fire. There settling into a crouch. Hands pulling the skeleton from him.

~GS~
Evening to the two of you. And how are the Stormcrows this eve?

Having not heard a word of Konrads spoken


Bobtail

Thu 11:49PM EST
He Stands quite ungracefully on t3 good legs. Chuffs softly to Nadja and hobbles over to her Sniffs her from about 5 feet away and wags his nub again before hobbeling over to his alpha.


Jastima Gemile

Thu 11:49PM EST
She shifted her legs, uncurling and crossing them again, one foot bobbing up and down. Her eyes never waning from the noble Lord as he stands and speaks their departure.
Gathering herself to her feet, she nodded her head, "As in the past so shall be present, Thunder's Child. I bid you both a fare night.." smile perched on her lips, she bowed and sat herself back upon the lawn chair.


Jastima Ves'Tacha Nadja

Thu 11:51PM EST
"A good evening to you Konrad. . Simon."

A look for the 3 legged wolf, but what it measn is hard to say, though she doesn't stir from her perch. Watching the two of them go before giving Ra'gon a measure of her attention. . . and finally the fire. Its a pleasant way to relax.


Ruv Ra'gon

Thu 11:52PM EST
Oh! Oh! Those dark pools recognized. ~Leaving?..~ An obvious assumption at the rate in whiched they both gave rise. A side glance to Gemile..right ear twitch..a huff from the nostral and a sputtering roll across one shoulder. *strider communication* ~All said and done?~


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 11:54PM EST
"Gathering to flee the fire, Owl's Child," spoken with a touch of humor before he nods to all three, deeply enough that it is close to a bow. "But they'll return when the dead are buried. Goodnight, Striders."

With that, he turns with his limping packmate, and crunches through the snow back to his own land.