another warmoot-y thing! [attn: ALL]

[Damon]

"Oh my god," Erich exclaims, clearly not too proud to let his exasperation show, "seriously? We're raging death machines discussing a cesspool under our home base. You're all going to get derailed about who I think is going to make us look good to the Warder so he'll actually tell us about the cesspool under our home base?

"GIRLS, YOU'RE ALL PRETTY."

Beat.

"Also, like I said earlier, I'll tag along if we actually dungeon crawl." He elbows Charlotte. "You coming?"

[errin]

"No," says Phoebe, and she does not sound exasperated, only weary. "We've been derailed by the lack of respect you've chosen to show the people in this room, a disrespect you seem oddly stubborn about worsening."

Then she pauses, shakes her head and rises. "What am I saying, we're not even derailed. Anubis Sight-yuf, if there is nothing else?"

[Samael]

As always, the Strider maintains his calm, that civility that has been learned by discipline and a constant desire--or even need--to better himself from how he was brought into the world and the first few months of his life. He stays quiet and even dispassionate as the disagreement ebs and flows for a few moments, watching save for a brief glance over to Avery when she looks his way, and then when she speaks. He doesn't acknowledge Avery's discomfort, though clearly he sees it. To acknowledge it would be to give it legitimacy and even likely make it worse, something he clearly does not wish.

Phoebe says that she would like to come with and he gives a nod of approval. There is a little twitch at the corner of his eye when the dissention continues after that point, a downward tug of his lips into something...disapproving. Finally, when it seems to have died down--hopefully--he speaks up once more with his ever-gruff and stoic baritone.

"Unless anyone has anything more regarding the matters we came here to discuss, Ms. Illeshazy..." He still doesn't quite get the Ms. right, it sounds like a conglomeration of the two honorifics, "...now may be an appropriate time to close the proceedings?"

It is asked as a question, not said as a declaration. Eva was the person who brought them together and it was, essentially, her warmoot by proxy of Erich. "Reverence of Dawn, Siren of Persephone, Ms. Illeshazy and I will go to speak with Warning Threshold-rhya. Mister Evans and Miss Hawkes will attempt to locate Mister Fentress and, based upon what we do or do not learn from Warning Threshold-rhya, a plan will be formulated to secure down below, and perhaps information will be secured so that the Desert Oracles may look into the ritual and spiritual aspects."

The plan summed up there, he looks to Eva to call a close to the meeting.

[Damon]

Erich's jaw clenches. His rage is high, his nerves are frayed, and halfway through Phoebe's retort he can't hold it in anymore. Surges to his feet and flat-out bellows:

"SHUT UP, CRYBABY."

Nostrils flare on an audible inhale. "NOW I'm disrespecting you. NOW I'm calling you immature. See the difference? All I said at the get-go was that Javed, Avery and Eva seem the most like grownups. That doesn't mean you're not a grownup. That doesn't mean they're better than you are. That just means I think they'll represent us better than anyone else here. Right now, you are proving my goddamn point because they're being calm and mature and goal-oriented, and you're reading the worst possible meaning into what you heard and wallowing in the butthurt.

"Get over it. If you can't get over it, bring it to the moot and I'll pick that bone clean with you. But for now, as the guy who threw this goddamn party, I'm telling you to move on so we can all move on."

[errin]

[Sorry, Damon, but she's cutting off most of your post.]

SHUT UP, CRYBABY.

Erich surges to his feet to seethe at Phoebe, who gathers herself to her full height, the weight of her rank as a Fostern and an Alpha, as well as her breeding and her will brought to bear.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" cracks through the room like a whip. There is a beat where she fixes him with a stony glare, which is oddly not out of place on the usually laid back, happy-go-lucky Theurge. She doesn't give him a chance to continue.

"You have insulted my packmates, my friends, and their Kinfolk for long enough, Storm's Teeth. I thought you spoke thoughtlessly and drew your attention to your words in the hope that you would find wisdom and apologize to your peers. Instead, you have chosen to show again and again the complete lack of respect you hold for anyone who isn't in your small friend group. I was prepared to let it go at that and accept that you are another young Ahroun with a big mouth and not enough sense to keep it in check. If you apologize now, I still will be.

"So what will it be, Storm's Teeth? Will you find a saving grace, or do I need to take this matter to the septs?"

==
niko @ 12:56PM
[charisma+leadership+PB, spending a WP because if the dice are jerks this will be too embarrassing]
Roll: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP] VALID

Samael @ 12:57PM
[[Witnessed!]]

[Samael]

Keisha has been sitting quietly through all of this; she doesn't comment like Winona though the heightening tension makes her distinctly uncomfortable. That hand has stayed on Phoebe's shoulder throughout, hoping to be a calming influence. How much it helped may be up for debate, but she tried.

She bristles visibly when Erich bellows at the Black Fury sitting next to her, hand gripping her Iskakku staff tightly. She throws a glance at her Alpha and then Phoebe is rising, the Child of Gaia's hand slipping off her shoulder because the ahimsa, for her part, remains sitting. Adding another person into this mix would only make things worse and she realizes that. She listens to Phoebe's words and then darts her eyes around to where the kinfolk in the room may be for reference's sake (just in case, not that she thinks it'll come to that), then finally back toward the Ahroun, watching him closely. It's clear which side she stands on though. Her physical proximity to Phoebe spells it out.

------------

Though Still Waters does not rise, Javed does. His Rage flares a little, seething forth a bit from its already-considerable levels as he slips off the arm of the couch and draws up. He is not mediating; he is not a Philodox and that is not his place. Avery is the ranking (and indeed, the sole) Philodox here though he does not entreat her to intervene. If Erich heeds Phoebe's demand or if he doesn't, that isn't Javed's concern because he has no dog (pun not intended) in this fight. He waits until Phoebe is done before he speaks up (unless Erich tries to cut her off after she did likewise to him; then he cuts in to keep it from going further).

"However this is handled," he says, and for once it is not tinged with politeness. It isn't rude, but it is blunt and short. He's getting right to the point of the matter. "Handle this now, this moment. This has gone too far. Perceived insults, unintended ones, direct and intended ones. Whatever the matter, resolve it or plan to take it up later and we can move on."

Samael @ 2:04PM
[[Cha+Lead+PB w/WP too!]]
Roll: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 7, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 5 ) [WP] VALID

niko @ 2:05PM
[witnessed!]

[mnemosyne]

Charlotte is there. She has been all along. She has been very very quiet and at Erich's side all along, quiet little mouse of a silver-sheened monster. Strange and frail-looking and awkward, sharp elbows and nobbly knees and also,

Falcon-blessed, moon-mad, bird-boned, strangely lovely. She is sitting beside Erich or maybe standing, leaning back against a counter, weight braced on her palms. There is a slightly faded bracelet around her left wrist, made of woven thread, and a platinum chain around her throat with a pendant of some sort that disappears beneath the dark collar of her yellow-and-green Sprite! t-shirt. A weathered messenger bag slung across her boyish body, the bulk of it born against her left hip.

She is nineteen; looks younger unless you catch her from the proper angle, and then she seems older than time itself.

So, she doesn't have much to say. Is quiet and serious and starts to frown a bit when things spark and flare, when Erich's temper catches and starts - but then it passes. He elbows her, is she coming?

"'Course," the girl murmurs back to him, quiet and solemn and a bit indignant that there was any sort of question that she would be anywhere other than where he is. Except, she tells him quietly and with an excess of that same mild solemnity, " - but you know running would be faster than crawling - "

Then he's surging to his feet. Charlotte is surging with him. Packmates, see - even without a totem something physical and animal in the girl senses the bunching, explosive potential in his flanks, in his spine. But her presence is a taut, staying sort of thing. The bright, pale disc of her luminous eyes flashes to the older theurge. Charlotte looks half-bird, half-beast. Trapped between a sort of reactive sort of panic and something else, mad yes - but deeper, regal, unburdened and unbound.

Her posture shifts; so do her eyes. That glance at Phoebe flashes and fades like the flare of a signal fire against the horizon. Then her eyes are entirely on Erich's profile. She nudges his side, an animal presence, calmer than he, as if she could drink down his rage and lash it and leash it against him. Stays a half-step behind him. Telling him, quietly:

dontexplodedon'texplodedontexplode

(something so taut in her shoulders)

but also,

thisisachallenge and notthesortyouthinkitis;

iknowwhoyouare;
i'mrightherebesideyou;

don'tbackdown.

don'texplode.

--

Meanwhile, Javed invites Éva to close the meeting. The briefest flash of surprise in the sweep of her eyes over his features. Minute and not-precisely-calculated, but listen. She allows it to show through. It surfaces in a twist of her mouth, then disappears beneath the surface as she rises a fractional second later,

only for the mood of the room to shift, quite thoroughly, a moment later. The Shadow Lord's jaw tightens. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She remains standing, still, wary and aware of them both, her spine absolutely straight as her dark eyes cut from Erich to Phoebe and back again. Touching not on their faces but their shoulders, their flanks, their body language. Her pulse is pounding, elevated and she thinks of the weight of the weapon against her ribs. So absurd that her mind goes to it.

Because these beasts, oh,

she knows how they move.

[errin]

[whoops, I don't know what I thought Avery's Auspice was that I forgot she was a Philodox, but change "to take this matter to the septs?" to "to issue a formal challenge of grievance?"

putting it here instead of an edit so that it's noticed. carry on!]

[Damon]

Erich likes ice cream.

He likes building things with his hands. He likes driving long distances, he likes having his den pulled along behind him wherever he goes. He likes -- no, he loves his pack, mad-wise-frail-raptor Charlotte and brave-vibrant-bold-wounded Melantha. He loves his sister, he loved his parents, and somewhere in his heart of hearts he probably hopes one day he can go home again. He is a young wolf, not without his own deep scars, but for the most part he is affable. He has a good nature not entirely abused out of him yet. He would rather play than fight, but he has never yet backed down from a cause he thinks is just.

Erich is also, in his own words: a raging death machine. His affability and his good nature and his playfulness and his youth are the thin, thin chains on a bottomless well of violence that is always,

always,

so close to the surface.

--

Shouted at in turn, red rage flickers and catches in Erich's eyes. It is Charlotte's sudden, stabilizing, bolstering presence at his side that keeps him in check. Keeps those dogs of war howling in his chest from exploding through his skin. His head turns, quick, a quickquick glance of mingled gratitude and outrage before he returns his eyes to Phoebe.

And takes a step forward. And another. And then he's all but chest to chest with Phoebe, nose to nose, eye to eye. Teeth bared, eyes locked. Because Charlotte is right. This is a challenge. Because Javed is right. It has gone too far. And they are wolves, they are animals, they are incapable of backing down or moving on so long as friction such as this exists in their ranks.

[staredown time! also, note: i'm not totally disregarding social rolls! i just figure they can be taken into account in staredown mechanics by whoever moderates/STs.]

[Samael]

[[Totally not meaning to post over other people who may not have had a chance to for the record, just moving with the flow of the scene. If we need to slow down I'm good with that.]]

When they go face to face and eye-to-eye, Javed snaps his attention around. He knows what can happen when Ahrouns go into facedowns, and he is very, very aware of how poorly this could end if things go wrong.

He had looked to Eva to close out the meeting because Erich had called it but had drawn into conflict; it had fallen to her, as the impetus for the meeting, afterward. No more. He takes a step closer to the two, this Ahroun and this Theurge, as he speaks out once more. His voice is not the kind that brooks debate.

"This gathering has come to a close. Everyone who does not have a direct part in this, depart now."

He's not presiding; again, not a Philodox. But if Frenzy (or worse) does take Erich, an Ahroun should be here to stop him from destroying another Garou.