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furies [phoebe mood]
#1
The sky is a dark, slate grey in the early pre-dawn as Phoebe makes her way up the drive of a familiar house in Littleton on Saturday morning. This place holds so many memories for her. Fights with Georgie in the yard. Running down the street with neighbor kids, back before her Rage began to build. Feeding strays, riding bikes, waiting for the school bus, her little brother's hand in hers. This house is bigger than hers, has plenty of space, more that her kinfolk cousins have started moving out on their own. Even so, there is no space for her here. Her family is traditional, conservative in many ways that Phoebe is absolutely not. She loves them dearly but it makes it difficult to share a roof, so she and her brother left. To a place a block or two over, but still, to their own space.

Phoebe has a key, but she rings the doorbell before she uses it, announces her presence so that they know someone is here. Then, just inside the door, she waits.

It doesn't take long. Her mother is first, beautiful, intense and hard Xenia Stavros. When Wisdom's Threnody, Athro Galliard, steps into the ring for the stories and songs the crowd stills, holds their breath, waits. Her voice carried by her Rage has the power to make or break Garou, to lift them up with praise or dash their reputation against the rocks. Now, though, as she peers around a wall and down over the railing from the second floor her hair is sleep tangled, her face pinched with an irritation that melts away when she sees her daughter standing there. Phoebe hasn't cleaned up. She looks a mess, her clothing rumpled, but there is no blood on her because thanks to the efforts of the others the only injury she took was when she bit a larval creature that bled nothing.

"Phoebe? What..." she starts and stops as she focuses on the Theurge. Her expression hardens, and the What are you doing here? quickly turns to a harsh, "What's happened?"

"Get Aunt Penelope and Aunt Chara," she says, and for the first time in an age she sounds different. She feels weird, off balance, out of sorts. Usually when Phoebe leaves combat she's expended her Will and nothing else. Tonight, this morning, she's empty of her Rage. She's drained almost all of her Gnosis. She feels...almost human, and so she does not feel herself.

"Please," she adds. "I have something to tell you."

Minutes pass and eventually the four Black Furies are seated in the breakfast nook. Just behind them in the kitchen the coffee maker gurgles. Phoebe sits with her body leaned forward, her arms outstretched to take the hands of her aunt and her mother while she faces Chara. Calls Back the Lost, Elder Theurge and matriarch of their family, she who Phoebe begged to teach her the Gathering rite so she could get a break from standing over the bodies of her children and her grandchildren. She says nothing for a long, long time.

And she tells them. She tells them that it's not over, but that they, the party Anubis-Sight-yuf led down into the underground beneath Cold Crescent, they've broken the power of the Beloved Horror. They've halved their numbers again. They've sent them running again. There's more to it than that, of course, but Pheobe is exhausted.

They sit like that for a while, the Fostern Theurge, the Adren Philodox, the Athro Galliard, the Elder Theurge. Hands linked, heads bowed. Silent.

At least until Phoebe's body rocks forward and her hands go slack. She catches herself, snaps awake before she can faceplant into the wooden surface of the table. Her aunt's grip on her hand tightens and she rises. Penelope Stavros, Razor Edge of Aletheia, is tall though not as tall as her sister or her aunt or her niece. No one who meets her can tell, though. She is dignified, honored and honorable and honor-bound. It makes her seem taller, a pillar of strength one would aspire to be. She rises and she pulls Phoebe after her to guide her to a spare bedroom. Phoebe sinks into the soft covers and sleeps immediately.

She told Alexis that her family is going to try to gather more often. It seems that will start tonight. When Phoebe finally rises and cleans up and goes to join her family they're all there. Mother, father, aunt and great-aunt. Her cousins, Georgios. They take turns cooking a feast in the kitchen or sitting in the living room, talking. They remember and honor the dead. They celebrate those who are still alive. They toast to the future.

The war is not over, it never will be in their lifetimes. But for now this family celebrates even as they mourn.

They start to heal, and they start to move on.
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