10-24-2013, 10:40 PM
When several cliaths and fosterns step forward to speak regarding the leaders of Cold Crescent, most shoulder their weight behind the cause of mercy. Balance and pragmaticism, if not forgiveness, can be heard in the call from corners where it is expected, such as the Child of Gaia and Glass Walker, and shocking, in the case of two Shadow Lords, a Silver Fang, and a Black Fury. But Javed and Ingrid are not the only ones who are pressing for harsher punishment, more immediate and more permanent.
Throughout the cracking, the Great Alpha has listened to every voice. His head is heavy, his paw laying firmly over the bone beneath it. He closes his eyes when, finally, no more voices call out from the crowd of garou who have seen and felt their friends and allies die, who remember the deaths of garou and kin alike from other attacks of the Beloved Horror.
When he opens them again, he looks to two whip-thin creatures out there, two beasts who have not spoken at any moot, who have not been permitted by the older garou who shepherd them.
Without a sound being made, both Kelly and Fern know they are being summoned. Kelly shrinks back, and Fern just looks at the mentor who watches over her, trying to keep her from turning dark again, from going mad and killing someone to eat parts of their organs. Those garou do not help their charges now; the Great Alpha is waiting, and his very rank and power compell them. First, Kelly takes a breath, and the Great Alpha lifts his head as the young Theurge approaches.
He takes a deep breath. "I think, from what people have been telling me, that they screwed up. Because Fern and I should never have been taken, or something. They think that the werewolves in the city should have found us first. And we suffered for it. And we made other people suffer for it." Kelly looks down, his arms hanging at his sides. "I hear what everyone is saying, about how they might not have done any better, about how we don't really know this or that, about how we don't want to be divided, but the thing is, you all haven't been divided, but all this has still happened."
Kelly lifts his head, looking at the Great Alpha again. "The people you're talking about killing, and I think you're really talking about killing them for this -- look at what has happened. To me and Fern, to regular people, to the guardians. What are you going to do, go into battle with that pack thinking the outcome will be any better than it has been with them as your main line of defense?" He shakes his head. "I think that's stupid. I think that one," and he turns, pointing his long arm directly at Keisha, "came and found me with her friends, and if they hadn't, I think I'd be one of them now. It wasn't one of the leaders, and it wasn't one of the guardians. And I'm sorry, but if she could find me and the guy I was --"
he does not want to say what he was to Champion of Honor. Warden. God knows what else.
An exhale. "If she could find me, why didn't these leaders? I don't think you should get rid of them because of all the other stuff, though. I don't think it was so much what they didn't know, but from where I stand, they didn't even really try. And that's worse. Because when you have those things breathing down your neck, I think the last thing you want is... laziness. Complacency. And that's what they are."
Kelly has gotten worked up. It makes him uncomfortable; his rage fuzzes the edges of whatever he sees. His trauma makes a white rushing sound in his ears. The Great Alpha watches him, then inclines his head, and the Theurge cub, once Thunder's, all but scrambles back to the side of his mentor.
The Great Alpha turns to look at Fern, who is still scowling and digging in her heels. The ahroun who keeps her from losing her mind most nights when the moon is this heavy all but shoves her towards the enormous hispo-wolf with the antler, and her sneakered feet kick up dust as she stumbles. Then walks toward him and just stands there, gawky and disheveled with dirty knees and bitten nails, and does not look afraid so much as wary. Of course she is not afraid.
The last alpha she followed was Th'nak'vis.
--
Between the cub and the elder, there is silence. It stretches out, until Fern's brow furrows and she just shakes her head. "I don't know," she says, on the verge of snapping it. "How should I know?"
The Great Alpha does not answer her. She fumes quietly, shaking her head again and again. Her eyes squinch.
"I don't wanna tell you what I think. What's it gonna matter?"
Still he is silent. And she puts her fists to the sides of her head like they'll hold something in, and closes her eyes tight, and shakes slightly with anger and refusal, but no one flinches but her. No one here, possibly not even Kelly the crescent-moon, could fail to take her in a fight... simply because they have more control than she does. But it takes Fern a while to realize that in this gathering, she is the safest she has ever been. She is the farthest from hurting anyone than she has been in a very, very long time.
Gradually her shoulders round down, and she lets her arms slump, and she looks mournfully at the Great Alpha.
"I impaled River of Clouds on a pike," she says, and only in this silence does the softness of her voice crack like lightning. "While he was still alive. I made holes in him. I drank his blood. And all I felt while I did it was relief, because everything else about being what I am made me hurt, and made me feel crazy, til all I wanted to do was to tear everything to fucking pieces."
There are tears in her eyes, but no matter.
"And now people are telling me that all of us feel that way, at least sometimes." She rears back slightly, recoiling from her own words, shaking her head at the Great Alpha. "But all of us don't do stuff like that. All of us don't actually --"
Fern sniffs, loudly, and rolls her eyes upward, looking at the sky, and the moon hanging over them.
"I don't know why you don't kill me," she whispers, like she's talking to Luna. But she's not talking to Luna. She's talking to the sept, but she searches the sky. "I don't know why we're talking about killing them. I told them everything. I told them anything I knew. I don't know why they didn't tell more people or try different things. But... they're not bad."
She looks down again, right at the Great Alpha. "I mean I hear everyone talk about the laws and stuff, and I know, but... I was bad. Bad like a rotten apple. Bad like poison, bad like... like born that way, maybe?" The words are a wince. "Sometimes I think I still am, but you don't kill me. I don't know why. And I don't understand why --"
Fern takes a deep breath, tightening up on herself. "I knew what I did was wrong," she says, louder and firmer, clearer, than anything she's said tonight. Anything she's ever said to anyone here. It all but rings against the sandstone. "I knew, and I was given mercy.
"I think they knew, and I think they just didn't want to cause a panic or something. I think they thought they could handle it. And they couldn't, and they failed, and now people are dead, but they didn't let bad things happen because they knew it was bad and took joy in doing it anyway. What I did was bad, and fucked up, and evil. But we're talking about killing them for failure."
She scowls, shaking her head at the Great Alpha. "So if you do that, then you should kill me, too. Because it doesn't make any sense otherwise. And kill Kelly, too. You think he didn't know that it was wrong, everything he was seeing them do and what they were making him do? You think he didn't know better?" Fern nearly spits. "We're cubs, not idiots."
The Great Alpha rises to his feet, and that's when Fern -- about to go on ranting, her fury stoked ever hotter -- scrambles back a bit. She nearly falls, but catches herself.
He is quiet a moment, then addresses her, and through her, the entirety of two septs, and every cub, cliath, and fostern within them.
"If you live to be older," he says, low and rumbling, "you will know why we are merciful to the young."
Fern doesn't nod or shake her head or argue. She knows, on instinct, her time is over. She hurries back to the garou she was standing with before, while Kelly glares daggers at her. In the center, however, the Great Alpha lowers his head to look at the ground, for a long time. He huffs out a breath that steams in the air, chilling with autumn.
"In seven nights," he says, after a long time, "their judgement will come. It will be final.
"With tomorrow's sun, the Cold Crescent will be ended. We will guard what is beneath, but our people and shrines will not live there."
That paw resting on the deer's rack presses down, snapping the bones into several shards. "The bone is cracked. The revel begins."
Throughout the cracking, the Great Alpha has listened to every voice. His head is heavy, his paw laying firmly over the bone beneath it. He closes his eyes when, finally, no more voices call out from the crowd of garou who have seen and felt their friends and allies die, who remember the deaths of garou and kin alike from other attacks of the Beloved Horror.
When he opens them again, he looks to two whip-thin creatures out there, two beasts who have not spoken at any moot, who have not been permitted by the older garou who shepherd them.
Without a sound being made, both Kelly and Fern know they are being summoned. Kelly shrinks back, and Fern just looks at the mentor who watches over her, trying to keep her from turning dark again, from going mad and killing someone to eat parts of their organs. Those garou do not help their charges now; the Great Alpha is waiting, and his very rank and power compell them. First, Kelly takes a breath, and the Great Alpha lifts his head as the young Theurge approaches.
He takes a deep breath. "I think, from what people have been telling me, that they screwed up. Because Fern and I should never have been taken, or something. They think that the werewolves in the city should have found us first. And we suffered for it. And we made other people suffer for it." Kelly looks down, his arms hanging at his sides. "I hear what everyone is saying, about how they might not have done any better, about how we don't really know this or that, about how we don't want to be divided, but the thing is, you all haven't been divided, but all this has still happened."
Kelly lifts his head, looking at the Great Alpha again. "The people you're talking about killing, and I think you're really talking about killing them for this -- look at what has happened. To me and Fern, to regular people, to the guardians. What are you going to do, go into battle with that pack thinking the outcome will be any better than it has been with them as your main line of defense?" He shakes his head. "I think that's stupid. I think that one," and he turns, pointing his long arm directly at Keisha, "came and found me with her friends, and if they hadn't, I think I'd be one of them now. It wasn't one of the leaders, and it wasn't one of the guardians. And I'm sorry, but if she could find me and the guy I was --"
he does not want to say what he was to Champion of Honor. Warden. God knows what else.
An exhale. "If she could find me, why didn't these leaders? I don't think you should get rid of them because of all the other stuff, though. I don't think it was so much what they didn't know, but from where I stand, they didn't even really try. And that's worse. Because when you have those things breathing down your neck, I think the last thing you want is... laziness. Complacency. And that's what they are."
Kelly has gotten worked up. It makes him uncomfortable; his rage fuzzes the edges of whatever he sees. His trauma makes a white rushing sound in his ears. The Great Alpha watches him, then inclines his head, and the Theurge cub, once Thunder's, all but scrambles back to the side of his mentor.
The Great Alpha turns to look at Fern, who is still scowling and digging in her heels. The ahroun who keeps her from losing her mind most nights when the moon is this heavy all but shoves her towards the enormous hispo-wolf with the antler, and her sneakered feet kick up dust as she stumbles. Then walks toward him and just stands there, gawky and disheveled with dirty knees and bitten nails, and does not look afraid so much as wary. Of course she is not afraid.
The last alpha she followed was Th'nak'vis.
--
Between the cub and the elder, there is silence. It stretches out, until Fern's brow furrows and she just shakes her head. "I don't know," she says, on the verge of snapping it. "How should I know?"
The Great Alpha does not answer her. She fumes quietly, shaking her head again and again. Her eyes squinch.
"I don't wanna tell you what I think. What's it gonna matter?"
Still he is silent. And she puts her fists to the sides of her head like they'll hold something in, and closes her eyes tight, and shakes slightly with anger and refusal, but no one flinches but her. No one here, possibly not even Kelly the crescent-moon, could fail to take her in a fight... simply because they have more control than she does. But it takes Fern a while to realize that in this gathering, she is the safest she has ever been. She is the farthest from hurting anyone than she has been in a very, very long time.
Gradually her shoulders round down, and she lets her arms slump, and she looks mournfully at the Great Alpha.
"I impaled River of Clouds on a pike," she says, and only in this silence does the softness of her voice crack like lightning. "While he was still alive. I made holes in him. I drank his blood. And all I felt while I did it was relief, because everything else about being what I am made me hurt, and made me feel crazy, til all I wanted to do was to tear everything to fucking pieces."
There are tears in her eyes, but no matter.
"And now people are telling me that all of us feel that way, at least sometimes." She rears back slightly, recoiling from her own words, shaking her head at the Great Alpha. "But all of us don't do stuff like that. All of us don't actually --"
Fern sniffs, loudly, and rolls her eyes upward, looking at the sky, and the moon hanging over them.
"I don't know why you don't kill me," she whispers, like she's talking to Luna. But she's not talking to Luna. She's talking to the sept, but she searches the sky. "I don't know why we're talking about killing them. I told them everything. I told them anything I knew. I don't know why they didn't tell more people or try different things. But... they're not bad."
She looks down again, right at the Great Alpha. "I mean I hear everyone talk about the laws and stuff, and I know, but... I was bad. Bad like a rotten apple. Bad like poison, bad like... like born that way, maybe?" The words are a wince. "Sometimes I think I still am, but you don't kill me. I don't know why. And I don't understand why --"
Fern takes a deep breath, tightening up on herself. "I knew what I did was wrong," she says, louder and firmer, clearer, than anything she's said tonight. Anything she's ever said to anyone here. It all but rings against the sandstone. "I knew, and I was given mercy.
"I think they knew, and I think they just didn't want to cause a panic or something. I think they thought they could handle it. And they couldn't, and they failed, and now people are dead, but they didn't let bad things happen because they knew it was bad and took joy in doing it anyway. What I did was bad, and fucked up, and evil. But we're talking about killing them for failure."
She scowls, shaking her head at the Great Alpha. "So if you do that, then you should kill me, too. Because it doesn't make any sense otherwise. And kill Kelly, too. You think he didn't know that it was wrong, everything he was seeing them do and what they were making him do? You think he didn't know better?" Fern nearly spits. "We're cubs, not idiots."
The Great Alpha rises to his feet, and that's when Fern -- about to go on ranting, her fury stoked ever hotter -- scrambles back a bit. She nearly falls, but catches herself.
He is quiet a moment, then addresses her, and through her, the entirety of two septs, and every cub, cliath, and fostern within them.
"If you live to be older," he says, low and rumbling, "you will know why we are merciful to the young."
Fern doesn't nod or shake her head or argue. She knows, on instinct, her time is over. She hurries back to the garou she was standing with before, while Kelly glares daggers at her. In the center, however, the Great Alpha lowers his head to look at the ground, for a long time. He huffs out a breath that steams in the air, chilling with autumn.
"In seven nights," he says, after a long time, "their judgement will come. It will be final.
"With tomorrow's sun, the Cold Crescent will be ended. We will guard what is beneath, but our people and shrines will not live there."
That paw resting on the deer's rack presses down, snapping the bones into several shards. "The bone is cracked. The revel begins."
my whole life is thunder.