Once the elders have their chance to speak, the cracked human skull makes its way to the hands of the less experienced. There's some new faces that need to introduce themselves, and the Child of Gaia called them out right from the beginning. They were to name themselves, name their protectorate (what's a protectorate? shit I don't get reception out here I can't check dictionary.com), and challenge for their ground.
Goldie herself didn't have any ground that she really wanted to challenge for-- that challenge circle hadn't been thoroughly inspected and she felt slight and out of place here. Her eyes wandered to the sparse trees and how they grew thicker the further out they went from the gathering. She imagined how it would be to sit out in those branches, a Corax ally to the Caern sitting in on a meeting of Wolves.
But Goldie was a Goldie Wolf, not a Goldie Bird. And soon the skull was in the hands of a redhead classic of a Fianna Ahroun, who was introducing herself as Firebrand and teeth/claws for the cause. Next up was Goldie.
She stood in black boots with loose laces and bounced the skull idly between her small hands as she addressed the Wolves of Roxborough.
"I'm Goldie Lennox, a Fianna as well, but no relation, like you can probably tell." This, with a gesture after Morgan, because there was very clearly no relation between the two (for Morgan's blood was given to her by heroes of the tribe, and Goldie could've belonged anywhere by the look and smell of her). She also looked a little pleased with her own rhyme before continuing. "Cliath Ragabash. I heard that you guys have boogymen in the basement at Broadway, so I'm here to help.
"As far as protectorates go, I'm not really sure what that means because I'm not procreating anytime soon, but I do suppose I should make it pretty clear--," she cut herself off for a second, leaned to the side to whisper something to the wolf standing nearest to her. His charcoal-fuzz ears picked up on her question pretty clearly, but he didn't so much answer her as look at her funny and tell her to get on with it. Nodding and smiling graciously as though the wolf was a huge help and provided her with the details she wanted, Goldie continued on.
"Well, there's a Kinsman in town with me. We came in together, we're pretty much family. So if you all see what looks to be a Hero of Old in a beanie with 5 o' clock shadow rusting onto his jaws, that'll be Matthew Murphy. I don't think he's a protectorate, but he is Kin, so...."
She let that trail off, and looked down to find her fingers in the sinus cavity of the skull, wriggling about in there idly and thoughtlessly as she spoke. How her fingers hooked in there meant she could hold the skull like a bowling ball, and she posed as though she would roll it back to the Truthcatcher for a second before grinning a buck-toothed grin and muttering a 'Naw I'm just playing with ya pal' before handing it back gentle and respectful-like.
Goldie herself didn't have any ground that she really wanted to challenge for-- that challenge circle hadn't been thoroughly inspected and she felt slight and out of place here. Her eyes wandered to the sparse trees and how they grew thicker the further out they went from the gathering. She imagined how it would be to sit out in those branches, a Corax ally to the Caern sitting in on a meeting of Wolves.
But Goldie was a Goldie Wolf, not a Goldie Bird. And soon the skull was in the hands of a redhead classic of a Fianna Ahroun, who was introducing herself as Firebrand and teeth/claws for the cause. Next up was Goldie.
She stood in black boots with loose laces and bounced the skull idly between her small hands as she addressed the Wolves of Roxborough.
"I'm Goldie Lennox, a Fianna as well, but no relation, like you can probably tell." This, with a gesture after Morgan, because there was very clearly no relation between the two (for Morgan's blood was given to her by heroes of the tribe, and Goldie could've belonged anywhere by the look and smell of her). She also looked a little pleased with her own rhyme before continuing. "Cliath Ragabash. I heard that you guys have boogymen in the basement at Broadway, so I'm here to help.
"As far as protectorates go, I'm not really sure what that means because I'm not procreating anytime soon, but I do suppose I should make it pretty clear--," she cut herself off for a second, leaned to the side to whisper something to the wolf standing nearest to her. His charcoal-fuzz ears picked up on her question pretty clearly, but he didn't so much answer her as look at her funny and tell her to get on with it. Nodding and smiling graciously as though the wolf was a huge help and provided her with the details she wanted, Goldie continued on.
"Well, there's a Kinsman in town with me. We came in together, we're pretty much family. So if you all see what looks to be a Hero of Old in a beanie with 5 o' clock shadow rusting onto his jaws, that'll be Matthew Murphy. I don't think he's a protectorate, but he is Kin, so...."
She let that trail off, and looked down to find her fingers in the sinus cavity of the skull, wriggling about in there idly and thoughtlessly as she spoke. How her fingers hooked in there meant she could hold the skull like a bowling ball, and she posed as though she would roll it back to the Truthcatcher for a second before grinning a buck-toothed grin and muttering a 'Naw I'm just playing with ya pal' before handing it back gentle and respectful-like.