ATTN: ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE. [seven-related!]

[mnemosyne]

Here is Charlotte: at Erich's side. She is a slight creature and a fae thing, perhaps 5'5" now, but still - those who have known her for some time think that she might still be growing. Might grow, somehow, into the strange and gangly promise of her long-limbs, might lengthen if not fill-out. She is more skin and bone than muscle and sinew but muscle and sinew are visible in her skinny arms only because she has to little body fat to conceal them. Arms like sticks and a gawky, boyish frame made more boyish by her clothes and the blunt cut of her platinum hair, which is dyed pink at the ends and freshly so.

With Kool-Aid, not crushed beets or beatles or the dried blood of her enemies. Erich at least knows that secret now.

She is wearing a raglan t-shirt in heathered green with darker green bands at the collar and cuffs. It says SPRITE on it. There is a dark smear of something at the hem in mostly the shape of a hand but this is not blood. Jeans, old and fitted, and a woven friendship bracelet around her bony left wrist and a pukka shell necklace around her throat and a longer platinum chain that disappears beneath the collar of her t-shirt she looks like an awkward, ordinary nineteen-year-old bird-boned and hollow-faced and wide-eyed enough that with another four or five inches of height she could be a model and with another four or five years of good solid growth in her: of healthy food and exercise and growing up and breaking hearts and being heart broken and laughing at the moon and crying sometimes in her pillow and getting drunk and making missteps and recovering from her goddamned missteps, she could be a lovely young woman.

But she is not a young woman.

She is a wolf, and she is -

achingly

pure-blooded.

Haloed in silver, outlined in a corona of gold. Garou see her: awkward and too-human girl. And they see her promise and her madness and her doom, the fragile and glorious shadow of oh her many ancestors, distilled just so, into a fragile vessel of skin and bone, moon-mad eyes, pink-dyed hair.

They do not see but likely Erich and Melantha, at least, can sense the presence of another consciousness, in and around and under her skin. For Charlotte it is like being half-swallowed by a ghost, this deep breath and then: double vision, old hands, old memories, an old spine. Makes her stand up rather more straight, lends her a steadiness she would never otherwise exhibit.

As now, when she glances sideways at Ingrid as the no-moon remarks that the Warder and elders send them scurrying like children. Then, back to the Ahroun, the others in the room, whoever has come.

"We should try to figure out how they were possessed. And how to protect ourselves from such possession.

"Maybe we start at the place where Champion of Honor was recovered. See what's gathered in the umbra. See what the walls remember. Find a thread and find a thread and find a thread and follow it."

--
ze roll for purposes of confidence and clarity and later applications and knowledge:

liz @ 7:16PM

Charlotte: Ancestors / Ancestor Ally (reaching for Heart of Winter)
Roll: 2 d10 TN6 (4, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP] VALID

Umbralwind @ 7:16PM

Sure!

Umbralwind @ 7:19PM

Nice roll!