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Yeah, that doesn't go away, but it gets easier to find your way around eventually.

[She smiles sweetly but it doesn't reach her eyes, which are simply assessing Kenzie's movements.]

If it helps, a portion of my hand-to-hand training is built around taking advantage of that impulse. So, what's your story? Most people would at least ask a few questions before asserting that they're safe from whatever's stalking the halls.

[ Kenzie isn't quite sure how much of the Litany she needs to be worried about here. The fucked up suits who apparently brought her here apparently knew enough to assess her viability as a 'New Hire' but what is she supposed to do with others? ]

I fought in a war. Lost some people. Have scars to prove it. I'm not afraid of much and I know how to handle myself. I don't need questions, I just need something to tear into.

[ Mackenzie thy name is ahroun. ]

I meant more in the sense of "what are you"; because not everyone here is human.

[Stacia's tone is casual, and it certainly doesn't match her eyes.]

Don't get me wrong, most people who've been snapped up are humans or off-shoots of humans; the not-even-human-passing contingent is pretty small. But we've got a solid number in the category of super heroes, wizards, and werewolves. Me being one of them.

Werewolves?

[ The word catches Mackenzie a touch off-guard. She eyes Stacia warily, a wolf pacing back and forth behind her eyes. ]

And if I said I was Feathers-Arrows-With-Her-Rage, full-moon fostern of the Black Furies would that mean anything to you?

Multiple kinds actually; we've got one poor asshole who's the "got bit and turns into an out of control monster at the full moon" kind. He keeps his mind here though, lucky for him.

[Stacia barks a laugh.]

Yeah, you're a pretty classic full-moon. Nothing-To-See-Here, Shadow Lord Ragabash. Welcome sister, wish the circumstances of our meeting were better.

[ Mackenzie rolls her eyes.

And you are a classic new moon. So do I.

[ She stretches again, drops into a crouch and then pops back to her feet. ]

I was wondering how to handle the Litany here, too bad we don't have a philodox.

A Philodox would be nice I guess, but considering how long I've been here without one, I'm going to count myself lucky that I've got more time to build arguments for my interpretation of it thus far.

[She laces her fingers together and stretches her arms over her head.]

None of Jorgmund's surveillance cameras work, by the way. They're just for show. But they do know that I can shift to Crinos, because I Frenzied when they shocked me and killed a couple people before they put me down. The rest of the so-called New Hires know that I can turn into a "wolf-monster" at will, because they're nominally my allies and keeping that from them seemed imprudent. Only two of them knows that we can be wolf-born, and that's only because we had an uncontrolled memory-sharing incident. They've promised not to tell anyone.

[And now for the fun bit, because this is 100% guaranteed to piss off any Black Fury Ahroun.

Someone else arrived her recently from a world similar to ours. He knows we've got a problem with silver and at least three forms, and thinks we worship the moon. He's also a vampire.

[ Mackenzie nods. ]

...They didn't ask me about that stuff and I didn't fill them in on my particular abilities. Just let them know that I know my shit and wasn't happy. Should I let the other New Hires know, you think? Or better to keep my shit under wraps in case we need a surprise? Not that us ahroun are that subtle.

[ At the mention of a vampire she goes stiff. Her whole body is instantly tense. ]

There's a fucking leech here?

Letting at least a few of the New Hires know that you're my kind of werewolf couldn't hurt. I can give you some recommendations for ones who are both trustworthy enough to keep it secret and competent enough to make full use of it. But I'd check whether or not your Gifts still work here before you go relying on them, because the trip here has done something weird to just about everyone.

[Yep, that's the reaction Stacia expected.]

Unfortunately. His name is Beckett and he's a 300-year-old Gangrel. Jorgmund's feeding him with blood packs from Medical. I would appreciate if you avoided him, at least until I can determine whether or not I can use him to fuck up Jorgmund for their crimes.

[Leeches are bad, but Jorgmund's doing a lot more damage.]

[ The talk about recommendations and so forth seems to flicker right over Mackenzie's head now that there's a leech involved. Mackenzie clenches her hands into fists and Stacia can probably feel the Rage shimmering around her like heat off of a hearth. ]

Fuck that. If there's a leech I'm gonna turn him into fucking dust.

[ Her voice drops into a low, angry growl. She fairly bristles, the wolf inside starting to growl and pant, eager to be let loose. ]

Leeches--

[ She grits her teeth. She is not going to be anything but angry. If she's sad, if she mourns, if she grieves--she shows off her weakness. ]

They killed my pack, Nothing-to-See-Here.

I am genuinely sorry for your loss, and for your pain.

[Stacia's voice is gentle, far more so than might be expected for a Shadow Lord, and her own grief echoes in her words. Apparently, she disagrees about weakness and mourning.]

No one should ever have to feel the deaths of their pack. Losing Lilly and Bares-His-Fangs was worse than losing my limbs. I will give you all the tools I know to help you hunt down the leeches responsible, and I will sit with you and listen to you tell me the stories of your packmate, though neither of us are Galliard enough to do them justice. And I will guard you while you do what is necessary to heal, because healing is not weakness.

[Stacia stares into Kenzie's eyes, her weight centered, her limbs loose and prepared for movement in any direction.]

But right now, Feathers-Arrows-With-Her-Rage, our problems are bigger than one leech, and we may be able to use him as a tool toward our freedom. Isn't that more important?

Wherever it fucking breeds and wherever it fucking dwells.

[ It's not an answer, not a real one. But it makes her feel better to undlge in the Rage and grief and pain. Wallowing in it is all she's done since they died. She is ignoring Stacia's kind words, and it's not fair. Later she might regret it. For now, she is swept along by the Rage. She's an ahroun under stress--it's simpler just to do this. ]

You didn't give me your rank.

Edited 2020-10-18 22:03 (UTC)

I didn't say "don't kill him", I said "don't kill him yet". I promise, when the times comes, you get first dibs.

[Stacia knows now where some of Kenzie's Rage is coming from, and it's enough that she'll offer the opportunity for kindness again later. Even if she has to concuss her for her own good first, because attempting to murder Beckett in what appears to be cold blood is not going to do Kenzie's reputation much good among the other New Hires.]

I didn't. Unfortunately, it's not going to do you much good. I'm an Athro.

[ There's an annoyed, angry snarl from Mackenzie. She's stuck now. She sucks in a harsh breath, then lowers her gaze, staring at the mats. ]

Then I'll hold off, Nothing-to-See-Here-rhya.

[ It's said deliberately. Letting Stacia know that Mackenzie says it to respect her rank and position--not because she agrees that Stacia is right. ]

That's all I would ever ask of you on this matter, Feathers-Arrows-With-Her-Rage. And hey, maybe a Philodox will show up and I'll get in deep shit for telling you to hold off. You never know.

[Stacia takes a deep breath and lets it out, hoping to reset the situation.]

So, do you want to do this sparring session with fists or claws or both?

You can just. Call me Kenzie. We don't have to do the formal bullshit.

[ Mackenzie is not exactly subdued, but her anger has been muted a little. She shifts her weight and shrugs out of the arms of her jumpsuit, leaving her in a very utilitarian sports bra. True to her words, bikini season is out of the question. She is criss-crossed in scars, the most horrendous of which are a series of what must have been claw marks that slash down from just under her left breast across her belly to her right hip. The arms of her jumpsuit are tied casually around her waist. ]

Fists. I don't want to shift and wreck these clothes. I haven't bound them yet.

Good, because I don't want to explain Deed Names to everyone here. You can call me Stacia, no -rhya necessary for obvious reasons.

[She shrugs out of the top of her jumpsuit and ties the sleeves around her waist as well. Jorgmund sports bras aren't exactly attractive, but they do the job they need to.]

Ha, yeah, I haven't told them I can do that. I'm still hoping that they'll give me my real clothes back for most-of-the-time instead of just for missions. What do you say, no Gifts until we burn off the worst edge of the Rage, then see what you've still got after being hauled through the walls of the universe?

Sure. No Gifts. I'm worried about what the fucking Umbra even looks like around this Weaver-fucked shit hole anyway.

[ Mackenzie drops into a fighting stance, hands held in front of her in the attitude of a boxer. When you heal everything faster, you worry less about breaking someone else's nose or your own finger
She can feel the Rage inside of her, snapping and snarling and slavering to be let free from it's leash. She holds tight though. This is no place for a Frenzy. ]

[Stacia hasn't been able to see spirits or find the Umbra since she got here; she's not sure if she lost the ability or if they're just not here at all after the Go-Away bombs. But that's a topic for after the two of them have pummeled the shit out of each other for a bit.

Stacia drops into a fighting stance of her own, fists curled the way she'd been taught so that she wouldn't break her fingers. Kenzie is bigger, stronger, and has probably spent more time brawling for her life than Stacia has. Also, she has more Rage to burn. This is probably gonna suck. It's good Stacia's been getting training done with Armstrong since she's gotten stuck here, or else it would definitely suck.]

Any other rules you want to set out before we get going?

[ Well, really it's not so much that Mackenzie doesn't try, it's that when she gets angry enough she doesn't care. There's a soft huff, like the growl of a wolf in response to the question. ]

No.

[ Then she darts forward, a fist cocked for a strike. No more talking to be had here. ]

[Shit, she's fast--

The only thing Stacia has time to do is drop into a roll, try and put more space between her and Kenzie so she has room to evade.]

[ Kenzie is very fast. Some of it is just her being fit and aggressive. Some of it is Rage. She lunges in and starts throwing practiced blows. She moves like a boxer or martial artist, everything economical, designed to strike while leaving the minimum of space for some kind of counter-attack. It is rapid and a bit brutal--they're both werewolves, she knows Stacia can take it. If she misses or finds the distance to great, she just tries to close the distance until she can make another attack.

Persistent, this one. ]

[Stacia's fighting style is more defensive than Kenzie's, more about dodging and evading and trying to manufacture holes in her opponent's defense to be exploited. It's difficult to get a proper hit on her, but Kenzie's speed and ferocity nets her a few blows that Stacia doesn't manage to dodge entirely.

This would look like a proper fight to anyone watching without the context that these girls could have claws and sharp predator's teeth and fur. The fact it isn't and they don't keeps Stacia from going for an eye-gouge or trying to tear off an ear, but hair-pulling and scratching (with human nails) are certainly tools in her repertoire. She's a dirty fighter by nurture and nature, but she knows Kenzie can take it.

And, as much as she might talk about wanting to stay out of melee range, she's still a Garou and she's having a blast, even as Kenzie manages to overwhelm her and take her to the mat.]

Edited 2020-11-05 21:45 (UTC)

[ Kenzie ends the fight breathing had, battered and a bit bruised and scratched up. It feels good, though. She's vented some of that pent up Rage and anger and she's feeling more relaxed than she has since she got here. SHe stays where she is astride Stacia for a few moments, breathing hard. She waits long enough to get confirmation that she's won, then rolls off onto the mat so she can lay on her back and breathe. She's soaked in sweat, but it feels relieving to her more than anything else. ]

I needed that.

[Stacia groans, half in appreciation and half in "ow, my all of me".]

I forgot how much fun that was. We should make it a regular thing.

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