12-08-2013, 04:26 AM
[Threads for the December 2013 moot will open on December 8th and close on December 17th. In character, the moot occurs on the night of December 17th, the full moon.
Take it away, Phoebe!]
Take it away, Phoebe!]
Pages: 1 2
12-08-2013, 04:26 AM
errin
12-09-2013, 09:40 AM
Sometime between last month and this Phoebe challenged for the right to open the moot once again. It's not a role that Fosterns take on often, and yet Phoebe's stepped up twice now. She stood against others of her Auspice, mostly Cliaths but a couple other Fosterns, as well, and she summoned a creature in answer to a question.
And now she stands waiting for the others to find her. And find her they will, though it'll be a bit harder than her last turn. This month there is no haunting melody to guide them. The night is cold and crisp and cloudy as the Garou of Denver cover the distance, picking up the scent of the Fury and following it south and south and east, gaining in elevation as they go. The place where the Theurge stands is wide and flat, large enough for even their combined numbers to spread out around her. To the east and north the lights of Littleton and Denver beyond spread out, sparkling like gems of many hues in the black-grey-white of the wintry city.
It's cold tonight. Many arrive in their larger, heavier, hairier forms, but even those do little more than their Rage against the bitter chill, or the bite of the wind as it cuts across the mesa. Phoebe, waiting in Homid and dressed in dedicated coat and jeans and hiking boots, could have picked a warmer place, somewhere with a nice rock barrier to protect from the wind, but she chose this space for a purpose.
Some follow the South Loop trail, others cut through the underbrush or climb up and over the rocks to find the Siren of Persephone. Eyes closed, she listens to them gather, shuffling their feet, adjusting their clothing, hears the pop-snap of joints adjusting and realigning as other forms are assumed. Clusters of packs stand close together (though few could be said to "huddle," those who do are less prideful). The younger Garou hop and bump into each other, tussling playfully to stay warm until
Phoebe's eyes open upon a relatively small gathering. Chin lifting, she takes a page out of the book of her fallen Auspicemate. Phoebe stomps her feet and claps her hands, keeping a strong rhythm.
Stomp stomp clap.
Stomp stomp clap.
Stomp stomp clap.
Garou across generations recognize the beat immediately. Those who don't pick it up quickly enough. Breathing in deep, Phoebe begins to call out:
Buddy you're a boy make a big noise
Playing in the street gonna be a big man some day
You got mud on your face
You big disgrace
Kickin' your can all over the place
Singin'
Pausing in her clapping, Phoebe holds out her arms to those gathered, encouraging them to join her in the refrain.
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
She goes through the next verse, but after that she repeats the refrain. By then, hundreds and more pairs of hands clap. Feet stomp together, keeping bodies warm and blood moving, rising, burning as hearts begin to pound together. Gnosis is given to Earth. Many voices lift, offering their challenge to the Wyrm, and their promise to Gaia.
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you...
=====
niko @ 3:45PM
[Singing: charisma+performance]
Roll: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 ) Re-rolls: 2 VALID
niko @ 3:45PM
[Moot Rite: Int+Rituals diff 7]
Roll: 6 d10 TN7 (1, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP] VALID
Samael @ 3:49PM
WITNESS IN THE HIZOUSE
niko @ 3:51PM
Thanks!
And now she stands waiting for the others to find her. And find her they will, though it'll be a bit harder than her last turn. This month there is no haunting melody to guide them. The night is cold and crisp and cloudy as the Garou of Denver cover the distance, picking up the scent of the Fury and following it south and south and east, gaining in elevation as they go. The place where the Theurge stands is wide and flat, large enough for even their combined numbers to spread out around her. To the east and north the lights of Littleton and Denver beyond spread out, sparkling like gems of many hues in the black-grey-white of the wintry city.
It's cold tonight. Many arrive in their larger, heavier, hairier forms, but even those do little more than their Rage against the bitter chill, or the bite of the wind as it cuts across the mesa. Phoebe, waiting in Homid and dressed in dedicated coat and jeans and hiking boots, could have picked a warmer place, somewhere with a nice rock barrier to protect from the wind, but she chose this space for a purpose.
Some follow the South Loop trail, others cut through the underbrush or climb up and over the rocks to find the Siren of Persephone. Eyes closed, she listens to them gather, shuffling their feet, adjusting their clothing, hears the pop-snap of joints adjusting and realigning as other forms are assumed. Clusters of packs stand close together (though few could be said to "huddle," those who do are less prideful). The younger Garou hop and bump into each other, tussling playfully to stay warm until
Phoebe's eyes open upon a relatively small gathering. Chin lifting, she takes a page out of the book of her fallen Auspicemate. Phoebe stomps her feet and claps her hands, keeping a strong rhythm.
Stomp stomp clap.
Stomp stomp clap.
Stomp stomp clap.
Garou across generations recognize the beat immediately. Those who don't pick it up quickly enough. Breathing in deep, Phoebe begins to call out:
Buddy you're a boy make a big noise
Playing in the street gonna be a big man some day
You got mud on your face
You big disgrace
Kickin' your can all over the place
Singin'
Pausing in her clapping, Phoebe holds out her arms to those gathered, encouraging them to join her in the refrain.
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
She goes through the next verse, but after that she repeats the refrain. By then, hundreds and more pairs of hands clap. Feet stomp together, keeping bodies warm and blood moving, rising, burning as hearts begin to pound together. Gnosis is given to Earth. Many voices lift, offering their challenge to the Wyrm, and their promise to Gaia.
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you...
=====
niko @ 3:45PM
[Singing: charisma+performance]
Roll: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 ) Re-rolls: 2 VALID
niko @ 3:45PM
[Moot Rite: Int+Rituals diff 7]
Roll: 6 d10 TN7 (1, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP] VALID
Samael @ 3:49PM
WITNESS IN THE HIZOUSE
niko @ 3:51PM
Thanks!
12-09-2013, 09:58 AM
With her fellow Oracles, Winona howls - exuberance and defiance and optimism.
We will, we will rock you, indeed.
We will, we will rock you, indeed.
12-09-2013, 10:55 AM
Avery came south a night early, perhaps ride-sharing with her packmate and her packmate's cub-in-training, sleeping through most of the day at their raw little house on land that Avery staked her claim on months and months ago. It feels good to be even that close to the caern, to feel its power like thunder rolling underground. By the time she woke, it was midafternoon, and the sun was already melting its last rays across the landscape. The Rockies take the light early here in wintertime; Roxborough Park sees few to no visitors in the cold, and the grounds belong solely to the garou in the dark. Despite the low temperatures, the garou of Forgotten Questions have historically found themselves strongest and happiest between the summer and winter solstices, as the days shorten and the nights grow long, heady with possibility.
Tonight she doesn't drive the short distance from the pack house to the caern. She goes with Javed and Ruby or meets them there, but Avery arrives through the shadow-realm, mirror-realm, wearing the skin of the dire hunting wolves that would, if they were a mortal species in their own right, possibly never have been hunted to near-extinction.
Or only hunted to nothingness that much sooner, condemned by their power clashing with humanity's fear.
--
But oh, she is joyous in this body. It is her favorite -- couldn't you tell? She wears it as often as a beloved piece of jewelry, and it shines as brightly. The heavy limbs, the impossibly sharp fangs, the clarity of scent and sound, the sheer speed and power. Avery in hispo is a glorious white creature, thick-furred and glossy beside the two sleek, dark creatures she stands with when they hear Phoebe's call and discover the moot grounds for tonight, a high place where they are close to the enormous sky. Her eyes are a pristine blue even in this form, just as bright and intelligent as they are in any other, yet not as stormy with rage as they would be in her warform.
She ran faster than even the Silent Striders tonight, with snow and ice still packed on the ground. Few wolves would slip, as long as they had padded paws and sharp claws to assist them, but Avery is a Silver Fang, a tribe whose oldest house hails from the deepest, coldest lands in Russia. And Avery is a Philodox, born to balance, and when the ground is white and frosted, she not only feels no suffering from the cold, not only rises about the struggle to keep her footing, but seems to move faster, move smoother, than even in summer.
She delights in this as she delights in so many things, darting ahead of Javed and Ruby only to circle back and bump her shoulders to theirs, whine happily as she gives Javed a rough swipe of her tongue in affectionate grooming. It is not a behavior one would ever see of her in homid, a physical fondness that neither she nor Javed are liable to ever express when they have their oh-so-formal words to do it for them. But Avery cannot adjust her throat to that of a human being's when in any other body, and the language of wolves is not primarily a verbal one. So Ruby gets that friendly bump, Javed gets that happy lick, and then she's off again, tail wagging, her paws dancing so delicately over the snow that she barely appears to touch the earth at all.
--
They stand together at the moot. Some huddle together for warmth. A few others gather what dry wood and leafless brush they can find or dragged, and with a clap of handpaws here and a twisting of air there, some of the metis-born call on elementals to summon fires. Soon the dark, open space is illuminated by flames that answer to the full moon, creating a little more warmth for the garou to share.
Humans from low-lying areas who happen to wake tonight, or glance out their windows and think they see spots of glowing light within Roxborough,
will sleep again, and forget. The spirit of Earth who empowers this land, and has empowered it since time immemorial, will protect itself, and protect the wolves who gather here. It may give memories, when needed. It may also take them away.
--
Avery, when she joins in the song, hops up on her hind legs to stamp her forepaws in quick succession, an energetic two-beat bounce followed by a BARK! She casts a look over at Erich when she catches sight of Baklava Republik, her tongue lolling out, because the song makes her think of him (a little bit). It is everything she can do not to go tackle Charlotte and roll around on the ground with the skinny Theurge, and Avery's lupine body almost quivers from joy and restraint, both. She grins that same lolling look at Celduin when she sees them, taking a second from the song to sniff her hellos at them, because they are good and smart and good and yes and she likes them yes hello hello hello Celduin.
Back to her barking, her ululating howls trying valiantly (failing happily) to go somewhat in tune with the song, Avery keeps wagging, her tail going so fast that occasionally it thumps Ruby, who Avery has just happened to make sure is between she and Javed.
Tonight she doesn't drive the short distance from the pack house to the caern. She goes with Javed and Ruby or meets them there, but Avery arrives through the shadow-realm, mirror-realm, wearing the skin of the dire hunting wolves that would, if they were a mortal species in their own right, possibly never have been hunted to near-extinction.
Or only hunted to nothingness that much sooner, condemned by their power clashing with humanity's fear.
--
But oh, she is joyous in this body. It is her favorite -- couldn't you tell? She wears it as often as a beloved piece of jewelry, and it shines as brightly. The heavy limbs, the impossibly sharp fangs, the clarity of scent and sound, the sheer speed and power. Avery in hispo is a glorious white creature, thick-furred and glossy beside the two sleek, dark creatures she stands with when they hear Phoebe's call and discover the moot grounds for tonight, a high place where they are close to the enormous sky. Her eyes are a pristine blue even in this form, just as bright and intelligent as they are in any other, yet not as stormy with rage as they would be in her warform.
She ran faster than even the Silent Striders tonight, with snow and ice still packed on the ground. Few wolves would slip, as long as they had padded paws and sharp claws to assist them, but Avery is a Silver Fang, a tribe whose oldest house hails from the deepest, coldest lands in Russia. And Avery is a Philodox, born to balance, and when the ground is white and frosted, she not only feels no suffering from the cold, not only rises about the struggle to keep her footing, but seems to move faster, move smoother, than even in summer.
She delights in this as she delights in so many things, darting ahead of Javed and Ruby only to circle back and bump her shoulders to theirs, whine happily as she gives Javed a rough swipe of her tongue in affectionate grooming. It is not a behavior one would ever see of her in homid, a physical fondness that neither she nor Javed are liable to ever express when they have their oh-so-formal words to do it for them. But Avery cannot adjust her throat to that of a human being's when in any other body, and the language of wolves is not primarily a verbal one. So Ruby gets that friendly bump, Javed gets that happy lick, and then she's off again, tail wagging, her paws dancing so delicately over the snow that she barely appears to touch the earth at all.
--
They stand together at the moot. Some huddle together for warmth. A few others gather what dry wood and leafless brush they can find or dragged, and with a clap of handpaws here and a twisting of air there, some of the metis-born call on elementals to summon fires. Soon the dark, open space is illuminated by flames that answer to the full moon, creating a little more warmth for the garou to share.
Humans from low-lying areas who happen to wake tonight, or glance out their windows and think they see spots of glowing light within Roxborough,
will sleep again, and forget. The spirit of Earth who empowers this land, and has empowered it since time immemorial, will protect itself, and protect the wolves who gather here. It may give memories, when needed. It may also take them away.
--
Avery, when she joins in the song, hops up on her hind legs to stamp her forepaws in quick succession, an energetic two-beat bounce followed by a BARK! She casts a look over at Erich when she catches sight of Baklava Republik, her tongue lolling out, because the song makes her think of him (a little bit). It is everything she can do not to go tackle Charlotte and roll around on the ground with the skinny Theurge, and Avery's lupine body almost quivers from joy and restraint, both. She grins that same lolling look at Celduin when she sees them, taking a second from the song to sniff her hellos at them, because they are good and smart and good and yes and she likes them yes hello hello hello Celduin.
Back to her barking, her ululating howls trying valiantly (failing happily) to go somewhat in tune with the song, Avery keeps wagging, her tail going so fast that occasionally it thumps Ruby, who Avery has just happened to make sure is between she and Javed.
12-09-2013, 09:08 PM
A new wolf is there at the gathering. He'd come lumbering in-- and that is the best word for it, as this creature was quite large-- in his Crinos form. He was alone, he was unfamiliar. He didn't stand near any packs, let alone among them. He was up near the front, though, like he was anticipating taking some part in the proceedings and awaiting his turn.
When the song sang, he did not participate joyously or make any savage, terrible efforts to sing along through War Beast vocals. However, he did awkwardly clap padded hands together and stomp enormous feet on the ground along with the rest, setting the rhythm where needed.
He had no idea what to do when no howl was there at the end. His chest was huge, puffed up with air, ready to let the sound burst into the frigid night sky. But that time never came, and so his ears had turned back and his his hands stayed latched together when the last clap was made. Knees bent, and he lowered himself into a crouch that made it seem like his weight was straining his very bones.
The great white-and-gray Beast settled, uncomfortable, in wait.
When the song sang, he did not participate joyously or make any savage, terrible efforts to sing along through War Beast vocals. However, he did awkwardly clap padded hands together and stomp enormous feet on the ground along with the rest, setting the rhythm where needed.
He had no idea what to do when no howl was there at the end. His chest was huge, puffed up with air, ready to let the sound burst into the frigid night sky. But that time never came, and so his ears had turned back and his his hands stayed latched together when the last clap was made. Knees bent, and he lowered himself into a crouch that made it seem like his weight was straining his very bones.
The great white-and-gray Beast settled, uncomfortable, in wait.
12-09-2013, 11:07 PM
Erich can get into this sort of opener. He has the good grace not to outright headbang (well: also, he doesn't have enough hair to do a proper headbang), but he's totally rockin out. Feet stomping, hands clapping, head thumping. Which isn't the same thing as head banging. More shoulder movement. Less... whiplash.
He's with Charlotte, of course. But also: if the Guardians permitted it, if they weren't outright barred from attendance -- he is with Melantha. And Eva.
And! As more and more wolves come, he breaks from his stomping and clapping to grin, to wave. At Avery! At Hector! At Javed and Milton and Ruby and Phoebe; greeting them from up close or afar while the song builds around him, while the feet striking the earth vibrate the ground around him, while he, toward the end, shout-sings the refrain along with whoever else joins in.
He's with Charlotte, of course. But also: if the Guardians permitted it, if they weren't outright barred from attendance -- he is with Melantha. And Eva.
And! As more and more wolves come, he breaks from his stomping and clapping to grin, to wave. At Avery! At Hector! At Javed and Milton and Ruby and Phoebe; greeting them from up close or afar while the song builds around him, while the feet striking the earth vibrate the ground around him, while he, toward the end, shout-sings the refrain along with whoever else joins in.
12-10-2013, 12:04 AM
[Admin Note: *and adds this to list of things to go on system pages sometime*
Kinfolk adults from FQ do patrol the bawn's outskirts during moots, primarily trails and so forth. This is done to ward off curious or hapless humans, especially since humans are far from safe near a caern at the full moon; no wyrmlings come near Forgotten Questions when it is at full strength like this. They, and the garou Guardians, would definitely wonder why a kinfolk needed to participate in the actual moot, partly because it can be so unsafe for them, and partly because many garou feel like they can't really let themselves go if kinfolk are present.
Some Kin also hang out at Persse Place during moots, where they can share a fire and a bottle and a meal and hear the howls of their family and friends, if the moot is taking place in the physical realm. They get to be close to all that rising spiritual energy but not stuck in the middle of dozens of ragey wolves on a full moon.
Kinfolk who aren't escorted/vouched for by a garou willing to take responsibility for their lives will be banned. If Erich has a good reason for bringing Melantha and Eva, and if the moot is realmside (which I think it is, based on Phoebe's post!), he won't be forbidden, he'll just be a little side-eyed by some and get baffled looks from others and others will not care at all. If there's not really a good reason it will be strongly discouraged and the side-eye will be a little more widespread.
HOWEVER: Melantha might actually part ways from Erich as he heads up to the moot grounds and that can be an IC thing.
]
Kinfolk adults from FQ do patrol the bawn's outskirts during moots, primarily trails and so forth. This is done to ward off curious or hapless humans, especially since humans are far from safe near a caern at the full moon; no wyrmlings come near Forgotten Questions when it is at full strength like this. They, and the garou Guardians, would definitely wonder why a kinfolk needed to participate in the actual moot, partly because it can be so unsafe for them, and partly because many garou feel like they can't really let themselves go if kinfolk are present.
Some Kin also hang out at Persse Place during moots, where they can share a fire and a bottle and a meal and hear the howls of their family and friends, if the moot is taking place in the physical realm. They get to be close to all that rising spiritual energy but not stuck in the middle of dozens of ragey wolves on a full moon.
Kinfolk who aren't escorted/vouched for by a garou willing to take responsibility for their lives will be banned. If Erich has a good reason for bringing Melantha and Eva, and if the moot is realmside (which I think it is, based on Phoebe's post!), he won't be forbidden, he'll just be a little side-eyed by some and get baffled looks from others and others will not care at all. If there's not really a good reason it will be strongly discouraged and the side-eye will be a little more widespread.
HOWEVER: Melantha might actually part ways from Erich as he heads up to the moot grounds and that can be an IC thing.
]12-10-2013, 06:23 PM
Celduin didn't always attend moots. No, correction - didn't usually. Usually they blew through a sept long enough to catch wind of dark places and loose ends and to chase those loose ends into dark places and then leave again before anyone could learn their names or where they were from or where they were going. Vagabonds led the pack a year ago.
Sometimes they went just to see what they were like. Like they didn't all remember from their fostering. How the elders would scowl to ensure the fosterns and the adrens kept the cubs and the cliaths in check.
They come upon the Caern this night and Hector at least is in his human skin because as they draw nearer he hears not yipping and barking and lifted wolf-voices but stomping and clapping. He wears a puzzled expression when he leads his brother and sister to the gathering. But he's the Wyrmfoe tonight. His job is to get everybody all riled up so they can go crashing snarling raving through the woods after the last tale is told.
So he starts going around jostling the lone wolves and war-beasts he finds even if he does not recognize them. Steam rising up from his lungs as he shouts along with Phoebe. Circles around the sisters of Desert Oracle right up in their business like they're not shouting loud enough. Like any one of them couldn't slap him into next month. Louder louder be louder.
Oh hey here comes Avery he likes Avery he followed Avery into a fight a couple weeks ago.
"SING IT!" he greets her before he turns around to jostle his way over to Baklava Republik. All of them. Erich he practically headbutts in greeting he's so wound up by the time he makes it over there.
Then he winds up back with his own pack in time to end the chanting refrain in his wolf skin. To tilt back his head and howl an exultant and eternal howl.
Sometimes they went just to see what they were like. Like they didn't all remember from their fostering. How the elders would scowl to ensure the fosterns and the adrens kept the cubs and the cliaths in check.
They come upon the Caern this night and Hector at least is in his human skin because as they draw nearer he hears not yipping and barking and lifted wolf-voices but stomping and clapping. He wears a puzzled expression when he leads his brother and sister to the gathering. But he's the Wyrmfoe tonight. His job is to get everybody all riled up so they can go crashing snarling raving through the woods after the last tale is told.
So he starts going around jostling the lone wolves and war-beasts he finds even if he does not recognize them. Steam rising up from his lungs as he shouts along with Phoebe. Circles around the sisters of Desert Oracle right up in their business like they're not shouting loud enough. Like any one of them couldn't slap him into next month. Louder louder be louder.
Oh hey here comes Avery he likes Avery he followed Avery into a fight a couple weeks ago.
"SING IT!" he greets her before he turns around to jostle his way over to Baklava Republik. All of them. Erich he practically headbutts in greeting he's so wound up by the time he makes it over there.
Then he winds up back with his own pack in time to end the chanting refrain in his wolf skin. To tilt back his head and howl an exultant and eternal howl.
Umbralwind
12-11-2013, 06:09 PM
Milton seems to get into this easily enough! His timing was great for it, and he seemed to get really excited about almost anything. So soon enough he was joining the rhythm with everyone else.
What might be surprising was the enthusiasm with which Sophia threw herself into this. The Fang laughed with the other and her greyish-blue eyes shined with a hint of joy that is so rarely present in those otherwise empty eyes of hers.
What might be surprising was the enthusiasm with which Sophia threw herself into this. The Fang laughed with the other and her greyish-blue eyes shined with a hint of joy that is so rarely present in those otherwise empty eyes of hers.
12-15-2013, 11:35 AM
Erich invited Éva to the moot; the Shadow Lord kinswoman declined the invitation. Informed him that she appreciated his gesture, but that she would rather spend the evening with her children.
"If anything occurs that I should know," she murmured, standing on the front steps of her home, her arms crossed in front of her lean body. Still dressed for work in pencil skirt and hounds-tooth blazer, pearls around her neck. "I trust you will tell me."
There was more confidence in that statement than Erich could know.
----
Charlotte arrives with Erich. They hike in from wherever he parked the truck, and the truth is she does not join him as he urges Melantha to make an appearance at the moot. She listens with an odd solidity and her pale blue eyes dart from packmate to packmate and she holds her tongue but that solidity: to her mouth and to her shoulders. They can tell, with immediate certainty, that Charlotte will support whatever choice Melantha makes, there.
--
There's a puzzled divot in between her brows and this strange, darting look when the moot-right starts with that rhythm, insistent and driving and Charlotte knows music, sure. Has an iPod that Erich and Melantha sometimes find her listening to, curled up in her bed/room, earbuds tucked into her ears, a far away look on her face that is half-way between vaguely puzzled and transported, like she is just figuring out that she could be something else if she just breathed the wrong air.
But this: it is strange. It settles oddly over her skin. Wolves are joining in and joining in and they know this song and it has power crackling through it but the truth is, it isn't Charlotte's sort of power. Her head cants as the rite takes hold; and she is not-quite-breathing the way people breathe and Erich is not-quite-head banging but he's into it too and the only way for the gangly teenager to get to that headspace is to shift.
So she does, and opens her yap, and howls.
"If anything occurs that I should know," she murmured, standing on the front steps of her home, her arms crossed in front of her lean body. Still dressed for work in pencil skirt and hounds-tooth blazer, pearls around her neck. "I trust you will tell me."
There was more confidence in that statement than Erich could know.
----
Charlotte arrives with Erich. They hike in from wherever he parked the truck, and the truth is she does not join him as he urges Melantha to make an appearance at the moot. She listens with an odd solidity and her pale blue eyes dart from packmate to packmate and she holds her tongue but that solidity: to her mouth and to her shoulders. They can tell, with immediate certainty, that Charlotte will support whatever choice Melantha makes, there.
--
There's a puzzled divot in between her brows and this strange, darting look when the moot-right starts with that rhythm, insistent and driving and Charlotte knows music, sure. Has an iPod that Erich and Melantha sometimes find her listening to, curled up in her bed/room, earbuds tucked into her ears, a far away look on her face that is half-way between vaguely puzzled and transported, like she is just figuring out that she could be something else if she just breathed the wrong air.
But this: it is strange. It settles oddly over her skin. Wolves are joining in and joining in and they know this song and it has power crackling through it but the truth is, it isn't Charlotte's sort of power. Her head cants as the rite takes hold; and she is not-quite-breathing the way people breathe and Erich is not-quite-head banging but he's into it too and the only way for the gangly teenager to get to that headspace is to shift.
So she does, and opens her yap, and howls.
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