Then the slim, compact Fianna galliard gives the Sept(s) a long, measuring look, and lifts her voice. She does not look or sound as if she is nervous. That is because she already stood up. That is because she is on auto-pilot. Because Tamsin's gone away, leaving the galliard and the Fianna, because puking is for later.
No. Her voice is clear and it carries.
What she uses it for is this:
"Never Shuts Up heard that Celduin's got a tale to tell and he wants to hear it. Well all right! Can't blame him for being excited about it. Fog rolls in, sometimes you lose yourself in it. Get high mixed up with low, left mixed up with right.
"I knew a wolf once got himself lost in a story about Fog and everywhere he turned there was nothing but gray. The kind of gray you can't get out of your eyes. The kind of cloud that stays and muffles smells and claws down your throat and you try to yell or howl but the Fog takes that too. This little lost wolf spent weeks in the story about Fog trying to reach the end. He grew thin enough you could run a stick 'cross his ribs and it'd've made this clackclackclack sound.
"Then one night -- he thinks it's maybe night, but he's not sure -- he sees this glimmer of light. Makes him glad in his heart. Not just because he's so sick of not knowing anything about where he is except maybe the wet feel of grass or stone or dirt or road under his paws. But because he knows this light. He recognizes Luna.
"He runs to her calling, Luna! Help me! I don't know where I am! I don't know which way I'm going! I'm so hungry I ate my shadow and let's just say it's a good thing for my tail I can't see it! My nose is worried it's next! and I've got a handsome nose! The handsomest nose ever! My mother tells me so!
"But Luna didn't answer him right away. He's running still, yeah. The light was a long ways away and he thinks that's okay maybe he's just running up into the sky wouldn't a damned thing surprise him in a Fog story except maybe seeing the way clear. He tries again: Luna! Help me Help me I don't know where I am or which way I'm going and I'm starting to forget my name! Where am I?
"But Luna's quiet or he thinks she is 'cause he can't quite hear her. He's making too much racket. He's more concerned with his nose, which I'll tell you now was just okay. This wolf I knew, he never listened real well."
He's running now and his chest's a-heaving and his tongue's pantpant lolling and he's almost there. He can see her real clearly, Luna-wolf, woman-Luna, Luna-the-Moon, and as he flings himself into her embrace he opens his jaws and tries to howl all anguished, Help me, I don't know what to do and I don't know where I am. But this poor wolf never made it past Help Me because he was a wolf lost in a Fog story and he embraced Luna's reflection in a vast big still water. That big anguished howl for help he'd opened his jaws to make turned into a big gulp of water that was like silver in his lungs. By which I mean: it was pretty bad for him.
By which I mean to say: He drowned."
Beat.
"Or," and here, a slender and fey grin, "he would've if a galliard familiar with Fog hadn't been there to see him leap like a goose convinced it's a stag into the reflection of Luna's arms and plunge down into the water. That galliard whose name got left behind in the Fog story hauled this wolf I know out of the water. He says, once he can properly speak again, Help me! I don't know where I am anymore! Up is down and down is up and left is right and right is left but I think right is also right sometimes which makes it all extra confusing.
"The galliard tells him: Well you were lost in a Fog story. Sometimes that happens. He says again that he doesn't know what to do. How do you find your way out of a story about Fog, once you're lost in it? The galliard knows this one. Do you? I bet you do. The galliard says: Well. The only way you can get to the point of a story about Fog, which is not coincidentally its heart, is to listen to somebody, like me, who can tell you how to get out, because you can't ever tell what lesson's hiding in a story about Fog until the end.
"This wolf I knew, he thinks about that. He opens his jaws again to say something, then snaps 'em shut. He says: If this story about Fog gets out, you'll be sure to mention that my nose was handsome and I didn't try to eat it, even though I was hungry enough I ate my own shadow?
"And the galliard tells him: Sure. Your nose'll get a mention. If anybody here ever meets a garou called Follows His Nose who seems mighty proud of that appendage and looks startled when you mention Luna and the lake then you can tell him it did."
Pause.
"So thank you, Never Shuts Up. You heard Celduin's got a tale to tell and you want to hear it. But you heard wrong.
"We've got more than one tale to tell this moot. Celduin's a pack of three now and we'll be telling you folks about what happened when Law in War and Echoes in the Lost, Laughing Battle went hunting down one of our missing kinfolk. How what they found was poison and darkness and sorrow masquerading, as Snails and Tails can attest, as human hope.
"We'll be telling you another story, concerning a House of God. That human hope I mentioned before, taken and twisted, made into a Wyrm-weapon. This is a story of Celduin, following the Wretched, looking to foil them. And it is also a story of and concerning Reverence of Dawn, From Whom the Stars Shall Not Be Hidden By Sunlight of the Silver Fangs. It concerns one of my kin." She beats her chest. "Stag's kin." Here she seems to look for other Fianna. To say this to them directly. "The Whites family, been here for generations."
"Quite frankly, it's concerning."
"I'm Cinder Song. I'm Furious Lament. Relax. Enjoy. And listen up. Prepare to get used to the sound of my voice."
No. Her voice is clear and it carries.
What she uses it for is this:
"Never Shuts Up heard that Celduin's got a tale to tell and he wants to hear it. Well all right! Can't blame him for being excited about it. Fog rolls in, sometimes you lose yourself in it. Get high mixed up with low, left mixed up with right.
"I knew a wolf once got himself lost in a story about Fog and everywhere he turned there was nothing but gray. The kind of gray you can't get out of your eyes. The kind of cloud that stays and muffles smells and claws down your throat and you try to yell or howl but the Fog takes that too. This little lost wolf spent weeks in the story about Fog trying to reach the end. He grew thin enough you could run a stick 'cross his ribs and it'd've made this clackclackclack sound.
"Then one night -- he thinks it's maybe night, but he's not sure -- he sees this glimmer of light. Makes him glad in his heart. Not just because he's so sick of not knowing anything about where he is except maybe the wet feel of grass or stone or dirt or road under his paws. But because he knows this light. He recognizes Luna.
"He runs to her calling, Luna! Help me! I don't know where I am! I don't know which way I'm going! I'm so hungry I ate my shadow and let's just say it's a good thing for my tail I can't see it! My nose is worried it's next! and I've got a handsome nose! The handsomest nose ever! My mother tells me so!
"But Luna didn't answer him right away. He's running still, yeah. The light was a long ways away and he thinks that's okay maybe he's just running up into the sky wouldn't a damned thing surprise him in a Fog story except maybe seeing the way clear. He tries again: Luna! Help me Help me I don't know where I am or which way I'm going and I'm starting to forget my name! Where am I?
"But Luna's quiet or he thinks she is 'cause he can't quite hear her. He's making too much racket. He's more concerned with his nose, which I'll tell you now was just okay. This wolf I knew, he never listened real well."
He's running now and his chest's a-heaving and his tongue's pantpant lolling and he's almost there. He can see her real clearly, Luna-wolf, woman-Luna, Luna-the-Moon, and as he flings himself into her embrace he opens his jaws and tries to howl all anguished, Help me, I don't know what to do and I don't know where I am. But this poor wolf never made it past Help Me because he was a wolf lost in a Fog story and he embraced Luna's reflection in a vast big still water. That big anguished howl for help he'd opened his jaws to make turned into a big gulp of water that was like silver in his lungs. By which I mean: it was pretty bad for him.
By which I mean to say: He drowned."
Beat.
"Or," and here, a slender and fey grin, "he would've if a galliard familiar with Fog hadn't been there to see him leap like a goose convinced it's a stag into the reflection of Luna's arms and plunge down into the water. That galliard whose name got left behind in the Fog story hauled this wolf I know out of the water. He says, once he can properly speak again, Help me! I don't know where I am anymore! Up is down and down is up and left is right and right is left but I think right is also right sometimes which makes it all extra confusing.
"The galliard tells him: Well you were lost in a Fog story. Sometimes that happens. He says again that he doesn't know what to do. How do you find your way out of a story about Fog, once you're lost in it? The galliard knows this one. Do you? I bet you do. The galliard says: Well. The only way you can get to the point of a story about Fog, which is not coincidentally its heart, is to listen to somebody, like me, who can tell you how to get out, because you can't ever tell what lesson's hiding in a story about Fog until the end.
"This wolf I knew, he thinks about that. He opens his jaws again to say something, then snaps 'em shut. He says: If this story about Fog gets out, you'll be sure to mention that my nose was handsome and I didn't try to eat it, even though I was hungry enough I ate my own shadow?
"And the galliard tells him: Sure. Your nose'll get a mention. If anybody here ever meets a garou called Follows His Nose who seems mighty proud of that appendage and looks startled when you mention Luna and the lake then you can tell him it did."
Pause.
"So thank you, Never Shuts Up. You heard Celduin's got a tale to tell and you want to hear it. But you heard wrong.
"We've got more than one tale to tell this moot. Celduin's a pack of three now and we'll be telling you folks about what happened when Law in War and Echoes in the Lost, Laughing Battle went hunting down one of our missing kinfolk. How what they found was poison and darkness and sorrow masquerading, as Snails and Tails can attest, as human hope.
"We'll be telling you another story, concerning a House of God. That human hope I mentioned before, taken and twisted, made into a Wyrm-weapon. This is a story of Celduin, following the Wretched, looking to foil them. And it is also a story of and concerning Reverence of Dawn, From Whom the Stars Shall Not Be Hidden By Sunlight of the Silver Fangs. It concerns one of my kin." She beats her chest. "Stag's kin." Here she seems to look for other Fianna. To say this to them directly. "The Whites family, been here for generations."
"Quite frankly, it's concerning."
"I'm Cinder Song. I'm Furious Lament. Relax. Enjoy. And listen up. Prepare to get used to the sound of my voice."