The Chaos of a Crowded Home [Multiple, Church]

[Drew Roscoe] The low rumble of a diesel engine in an otherwise (relatively) quiet neighborhood is the first indicator that Drew had arrived. She hadn't been by for a while, but really, how many people drove diesels in a city this big? It's perhaps a minute after the engine dies that the front door opens with no preceding knock and Drew Roscoe steps inside, knocking snow-slush off her boots at the door.

Eli's greeted in passing with an upward flick of eyebrows, surprise at running into him, and a warm smile, a few brief friendly words before he's on his way. He was on his way out, had places to be and things to do. Drew was on her way in, she had her own things to address.

The door had no sooner closed had Drew stepped through. She found Roman's back a dozen yards away or so, and grinned at him, lifted her hand to wave and then to doff her winter cap and work on undoing her coat, top button first, working her way down. "Roman! Hey, you busy?"

[Kora] "Come on, I'm starving - " urges Kora, pulling open the wooden doors to the sanctuary. She has a pair of flat boxes in hand, topped with a pair of white paper bags. The smell of Italian food - not the usual pizza - but actual Italian food, sausage and onions, pasta, garlic breadsticks, and the like - rises from the containers, sharp and savory in the cool, bright air. Melody is left to juggle the rest of the bags and a tray full of warm drinks in a molded cardboard drink carrier, enough to fill her hands and challenge her balance, especially since the drinks do not all fit perfectly into the carrier. Her voice rises, sheers off. Is carried a bit by the wind. It's lower than Drew's, quieter - but there's a certain resonance to it, and the truth is - she knows how the pack house resonates.

"And if you hold the tiramisu that close to the hot chocolate it's gonna fucking melt. The whipped cream and shit."

If nothing else, Kora's pregnancy has ensured the packhouse a rather more varied menu of takeout.

[Roman Turner] "Well howdy Miss Drew. What brings you out in this cold? Ya know they are predicting another big ole snow storm, right?"

He came forward with a welcoming smile.

"Come in, come in and warm yourself. Sure I got a minute."

That was about when he not only felt Kora drawing close, but heard her.

"And here comes Miss Drew."

[Melody Himinndottir] "I'm sorry, some of us weren't born with four hands. And I never learned to juggle."

Yes indeed, Melody is trailing along behind her sister, completely overloaded and looking somewhat exasperated. One assumes that if Kora could have figured out a way to balance something on her head, she'd be doing that, too.

"Also, you worry too much."

[Drew Roscoe] Drew's tucking her hat in her coat pockets once the heavy blue winter garment has been unbuttoned. The gloves were already in the pockets, it was chilly outside for sure but not enough that she really needed the gloves. Hands take a second to sweep her hair out of her eyes, tuck it behind her ears so it'll stay out of the way, and then disappear into her coat pockets. She leaves it on for now, helped maintain warmth in the place, so she wouldn't feel the need to hoard a space heater.

"Thanks," she offers the friendly teen, letting the door close behind her and stepping on in as suggested. Her eyes crawl up to the ceiling and the holes in it, regarding for a moment, then drop down again, past Roman's shoulder to where Kora's voice flooded from. It wasn't loud, but it filled a room and caught the ear anyways. The Kin nipped her lower lip idly, lifted a hand to wave her greeting to the Skald and those that would enter behind her, and shifted her attention back to Roman.

She just looks at him for a few seconds, like she's remembering exactly how young he was, and that's changing her mind about something. Finally, though, she shakes her head a bit and smiles, half-apologetic but mostly just warm. "Had a question but I think I just gave myself the answer. Was also gonna ask if Rain was around but I can figure that one out myself." Her head nodded, then, toward the procession of food making its way in, playing a balancing act with take-out boxes and drinks. "Think we should offer a hand?"

[Linus] "People are Loud!"

It's the wake-up call from the Godi, who's hours seem to be the most sporadic of the lot, fishing in and out of the umbra on any given day. The walk back to the pack turf after Kora's brief check in of the new Kinfolk was uneventful, as was the several hours of explorative patrolling and convincing of Hrafn to go out in the rain and keep watch and eye from the relative shelter and comfort of several safe havens. His own comfort level had been less than pleasant, having been forced out into the rainy streets several times just to prove to the Hrafn that it wasn't so bad. This had resulted in no small amount of laughter on the Blackwing's part for repeated performances and the Godi returning after the patrols were done in something of a 'mood'.

He sits up, face slightly bedraggled, jaws clapping, from inside his favoured pew, where the mix and match of his clothes piles sit, the various odds and ends of his duties and what few personal possessions he cherishes and keeps safe (fewer and fewer still these days). The sodden remnants of his clothing hang on the wall nearby, while the various layers of flannel he keeps himself bundled in are pushed off, revealing a wife-beater over a lanky frame and the comfort of a pair of black long johns. His feet touch the cold stone floor and he winces slightly, flicking toes around until he gets comfortable, murmuring a

"Refreshing!" under his breath, at the sensation before standing with a stretch and a yawn and a sniff.

"I smell Gnocchi?!"

[Prayers to Broken Stone] From inside the Church proper come the distinct sounds of a guitar.

Sitting on top of a wooden pew with his feet braced on the seat is the Galliard known as Prayers to Broken Stone, a twenty-something blond haired boy with the broad shoulders and handsome features better suited to a college footballer. Perhaps, in another life, in another reality where there was no War, or Werewolves for the cause, he would have been precisely this.

As it stands, he is a lone individual with the Rage to make any full moon proud and the weight of it; all of it; war, death, his own mortality; sitting square on his shoulders. Some days, more than others, the weight becomes staggering, sinks the Cliath's feet way down into the mud. Tonight, he's sitting not far at all from the slumbering Linus, a notebook open on one knee; his former Alpha's guitar resting across his body; pick in hand. Indeed, it's very likely it's the Fiann's idle strumming that wakes the Fenrir.

"Tends to happen," is Patrick's distracted response, head bent over a chord. "Evening, Princess." He greets his new brother, without looking up.

[Linus] "Eveni-"

Linus head snaps around toward one of the broken windows, voice carrying the sort of punctuating loudness he was complaining of a moment ago.

"Where the Fuck Did the Sun Go?!" The Godi has trouble keeping track of it these days it would seem.

[Kora] "Hey Drew," says Kora, walking in after her younger sister. The family correspondences are buried there; in a certain sharpness about the eyes, a certain length of their limbs if nothing else. In the pale, straight lines of fine blonde hair. Kora is taller, with a wider mouth and darker eyes. Older by half a decade or more. The truth is, they're half-siblings, without breeding that might mark them more strongly to Garou senses.

Both are laden with take-out, the scent of it so absolutely distinctive in the cold air. "We're doing Italian, you're welcome to join." Then Linus wakes up, to the breakfast of champions. Do I smell Gnocchi? "Morning sleepyhead. You very well may. I can't remember everything I ordered, and I might have ordered one of everything."

A glance back at Melody, a hint of sharpness. "About important things, yeah. Like my fucking dessert."

"Hey Patrick. Patrick, Drew, this is my sister Dee. Dee, Patrick's my packmate, Drew's our kin." A subtle nudge of a look, sideways. "Why don't you introduce yourself." A strange echo, that, accidentally on purpose.

[Roman Turner] "That ain't so nice Miss Drew. Ya done got my hopes up that maybe ya came to ask for a date and now ya done got cold feet."

He teased with a glance towards the direction the smell of food and sounds came from.

"Let's go help them....eat it."

His smile widened as he rubbed his hands together in an entirely greedy manner.

[Melody Himinndottir] "It is freezing out. Your dessert is almost certainly frozen. Any warmth left in your cocoa is probably only serving to restore it to its natural state. You should totally thank me." Rambling? Not quite. Though offered up in a deadpan tone.

"And I will introduce myself as soon as you tell me where you want me to put all of this stuff, unless you are expecting me to hold it all night long. In which case, you will soon be eating off the floor, because I am beginning to cramp."

[Drew Roscoe] Roman gets a chuckle and a shake of the head at the jest about cold feet, and she hums a quiet affirmation, agreement that they should go help eat all this food, and walks to meet where Kora and Melody were headed to set the food down, intercepting part way to hold her hands out to the newest sibling in offering to take something out of her hands, help with the balancing act, so that Kora's dessert didn't melt.

"Nice to meet you, Dee. Let me help ya out some, huh?"

Patrick gets a sweep-toward by the Kin's doe-brown eyes, and she smiles for him, but it's more of a one-sided corner of the mouth thing. Linus is glanced toward next, he gets what's leftover of Patrick's smile before she's focusing more on this new Rotagar once more.

[Simon Zahradnik] Simon's car pulls up at the Church and he slips out with a little smile worn on his face. It was strange how easily he melded into the neighborhood... He wasn't Urrah by tribe but he was certainly Urrah by birth. His clothing, his equipment, and his comfort within the confines of the city all painted the image that Simon was as much a part of this city as this city was a part of him. He was a new kind of predator, a hunter who stalked the streets of the city. The concrete beneath his feet was simply a new form of terrain, on which he was comfortable enough within. Garou weren't typically fond of the city but Simon was simply one of a new breed of young men and women born in response to the Garou's need to hold a larger presence within these melting pots of human ingenuity and corruption. The city was a place as wondrous as it was filthy and dangerous and who understood duplicity better than a Shadow Lord?

The Full Moon carried himself to the entrance to the Church with a little smile taking shape. His hand reaching up to pound against the heavy door. He loved this door, it always made him feel so much more awesome. Why can't more Garou choose giant concrete fortresses as their Pack houses?

Tonight he didn't come for battle, and he sure as fuck didn't come into someone else's territory to make trouble. Maintaining good terms with local packs was an important thing in a Sept and it would seem Simon knew this much. He was the consummate soldier and treated everything he did as a war. That meant keeping on good terms with his allies. It would be a bad idea to alienate one of the more important packs in the sept now wouldn't it?

He could come here and run his mouth, maybe wave his dick around and spew crap out his mouth but that would only get him un-invited. This was not his territory, despite his comfort in the area, and he would treat it with the same respect he expects within his own territory. This was Kora's house, she ran the show and as long as he was here she was in charge.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Patrick does glance up at that, his mouth twisting in Linus' direction. "Got tired of waiting on you, went home." With the closing distance of other pack members the Fianna's blue eyes swing that way and he's watching the door as first Kora, then another fair-haired creature, followed by Drew Roscoe and Roman enter.

"Hey, Dee; Drew."

He doesn't get up immediately, but does slip the guitar strap over his head and carefully set it against the wooden seating. Slapping closed the leather-bound notebook with its weather-worn pages all curling and yellowing at the edges, the song-keeper wedges a pencil into it and sets it beside the guitar; sliding to his feet and scuffing a hand through his hair as he does.

[Linus] He snaps his fingers, climbing out of the pew, the pounding of the Door creating echoes throughout the interior.

"Five bucks says it's the Maytag guy. Dishwasher's been on the fritz..."

And he's struggling to put on a pair of loose trackpants, the elastic loop of such seemsbroken or much too large for his all too slim frame.

[Roman Turner] He sounded put upon, but he went for the door, calling.

"I'll get it."

In a long suffering voice. Once the door was opened, he greeted Simon with.

"Howdy Simon. Oh wait, how come ya always know to turn up when there's food? Ya smelled the garlic didn't ya? Dang it!"

Another faked long suffering sigh as he waved Simon in.

"Come on, Supper's waiting."

[Melody Himinndottir] "Drew, is it? Oh, I will love you forever if you free me from bondage." And thus begins the complicated dance that is trying to pass a number of bags from one to the other without dropping or spilling anything. By some miracle, this is accomplished with a modicum of grace and a fair amount of speed.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] "Dude," Patrick starts after Linus; spreading out his arms. "I told you I could fix that, where's the trust? I'm going to look at it right now." The Galliard deviates from the path toward the door and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

[Linus] "Dude! I was kidding! We don't have a Dishwasher!"

He's cracking up mid-way through the sentence.

"You are so new!"

[Kora] "You've been washing your boxers in it again, have you?" returns Kora to Linus. Then, she lifts her voice. "OPEN." - to carry back to Simon, knocking. On the theory that the Wyrm wouldn't knock, and with the whole pack about they can handle anything that comes through without needing the heavy wooden doors as shield. Roman's already walking over to the door, and Drew comes over to relieve Melody of her burden.

"Over there," though, she says to Melody, indicating the tables with older, abandoned pizza boxes near the couches and space heaters as the appropriate place to leave the feast. Kora's beginning to clear off the pizza boxes, find some space to spread out her feast.

"Oh, hey - Booker's moving in," she informs Linus, the retreating Patrick. "Until he can find someplace new to crash, yeah?"

[Prayers to Broken Stone] Patrick stops, frowning.

"Then what the hell was I putting dirty dishes in last night?"

[Kora] "Simon!" Kora here, turning and glancing over her shoulder at the Shadow Lord. "Everything's fair game except my hot chocolate and Tiramisu."

[Linus] Linus blinks and looks at Patrick. Then snaps around to Kora.

"When the Fuck did we get a Dishwasher and why the fuck didn't anyone tell me?!" He's dropped his track points back to his ankles and is pointing rather insistently toward the Kitchen.

[Melody Himinndottir] "Oh God, Kora. I know you live with a bunch of guys, but doesn't anyone throw garbage away around here?" She wrinkles her nose a bit at the pile of old pizza boxes.

[Kora] "You eat breakfast lunch and dinner out of a pizza box, Li," Kora explains, patiently. Faux-patiently. "Pizza boxes don't go in the dishwasher. Like Dee says, they go in the trash." Though to Dee, the Skald shakes her pale head once. And intones, solemnly.

"Chiminage, man. Ask Li."

[Drew Roscoe] This is the chaos of a crowded home- doors being knocked at, someone (typically the youngest, this holds true here) running to get it, two or three conversations going on at once, none of them quiet. Drew was an only child, she didn't grow up in a house full of siblings and chaos, this wasn't something she was intimately familiar with, this sort of ruckus. However, she's worked in crowded kitchens, pressed herself through slim gaps in crowded hallways and participated in college campus events where the mayhem was so much more.

She could handle it. Her eyes hopped between Patrick and Linus as they have an exchange about a dishwasher that no one seemed sure of whether it was real or not, Linus with his pants about his ankles, half-composed, not trying to be in the first place. Patrick caught between kitchen and open room, Roman and Simon at the door, Kora setting her boxes down on a table or two after empty pizza boxes were pushed away.

Drew was quiet, largely, letting Melody decide which bags to hand off to her, and once they were she set them on a corner of table before rolling her shoulders and setting to gathering up the pizza boxes and other food bags and carriers that were left behind.

One bit of the conversation catches Drew's ear though, and she's glancing up to Kora with an inquisitive eye. "Booker? What happened to his house?"

[Simon Zahradnik] He finds himself grinning when food is mentioned. He followed Roman into the church with his eyes looking around for signs of their recent battle."So how's everyone holding up since the whole... Thing?"He laughs a bit to himself cause no one was dead so obviously folks were good but it still seemed polite to ask."And when did you grow balls in place of a brain?"He asks Roman with a little smile remembering the New Moon's bold leap back into the Fray after their battle.

When he gets closer to the others his attention shifts to Kora."Please woman... I might be a full moon but I'm not stupid enough to steal food from an expecting mother. That shit'll get your ass killed."He says with a little grin presented back to her.

His attention turned on Melody."Guys can't throw garbage away... It's one of those Physiological differences between men and women I think. Women have breasts... Men can't throw garbage in the trash. I don't understand it I just accept it."He says with a knowing nod, the secrets of men were sacred and it was impressive enough that he would share these secrets with a woman he's never met before!

[Melody Himinndottir] "The spirits demand you live in filth? Just which spirits are you trying to placate here? The Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock?" The words might sound harsh, maybe even insulting, but the tone is anything but. If anything, she almost sounds amused.

[Roman Turner] "Varmits. Eli is moving out of his house cause he had varmits coming in. We invited him to come sit a spell with us."

He headed towards food as soon as he let Simon in. Knowing better than to wait in line when it came to food around here.

[Melody Himinndottir] She raises an eyebrow and gives Simon a look which quite possibly speaks volumes, but leaves it at that.

[Linus] "Close, Dee" Linus offers, finally getting around to belting up his Track Pants. A piece of the inner elastic is pulled out and drawn taut with a knot to ensure it remains in place. The Wife-beater is hidden under a second hoodie, this one a deep brown and ratted about one cuff, like it had been mauled by some vicious dog. The tattered sleeve is rolled up and pinned just behind his elbow while the Godi scratches his head and glances at the younger of his Sisters.

"Rat." He flicks a hand out and around the area. "Not worth the effort of getting into a bargain and a pinch with the little fucker, but having and cultivating the smell of so much food in and around the territory, keeps them coming back thinking they might get a scrap or some crumbs to pinch. Nothing we're not willing to part with either. It ain't proper chiminage but their presence also helps to keep the wyrm on his toes. If anything in the City promotes Gaia's 'Do Not Fuck With' moniker, it's the Rodent Pop. Keeps the Weaver off our backs almost completely."

And he draws a wide ouroborean circle in the air.

"Circle of Life, and all that." He yells on his way to the double doors, still bare foot and waddling slightly. "Taking a Leak! Don't eat my Gnocchi!"

[Prayers to Broken Stone] There's a grimace as the Fianna turns around to stare back at his brother. "Ugh, man. Pants. Pants." He's waving a hand, and vanishing into the kitchen to, as promised, investigate the potentially phantom dishwasher. When he emerges, wiping his hands free of grease; earned not in the kitchen but during the course of the day, the Galliard's attire was that of overalls, half covered by a jacket thrown atop them but the scents of a garage lingered on him; he's answering the Fostern's comment regarding Booker.

"Yeah, okay. Was meaning to say -- " a beat, Patrick's gaze hones in on the Shadow Lord for a moment, there's a tightening around his eyes as they fall away, return to his Alpha.

"I'm still living in the place I shared with Howard, it's got a working kitchen, plus room for another if someone needs a place to crash outside of here." Patrick's mood, as volatile as his Rage these nights, seems to dip for a moment as he adds: "I've cleared out all his things."

[Roman Turner] He about choked to death with Simon's words.

"Oh man, the first part? I got them in the womb, they come as a matched set, part of the basic equipment, though they ain't got a warranty. Which is what ya should remember when ya got a room full of gals and ya go on about how women folk can clean up."

[Melody Himinndottir] Melody opens her mouth, as if she's about to say something to Linus. Closes it again. Opens it. Closes it again.

Then she shakes her head, as if deciding there is nothing she can possibly say that is worth whatever sort of response she'd manage to get out of him.

[Kora] Kora unloads two flat boxes. They look like small pizza boxes, but when she opens them up they contain big aluminum containers of baked pasta. One is lasagne, the other is baked ziti. Both of them are covered in enough cheese and sauce to clog the arteries of the entire defensive line of the Chicago bears. In other words, delicious.

The last bag she sets down is full of garlic rolls, and the scent - of yeast, butter, bread and garlic - that opens up from the package is fucking heavenly. There's nothing to match it, not really, in the world.

"I think he had a visit from the neighborhood watch." Kora tells Drew, with a brief, narrow twist of her shoulders. "Found them less than hospitable, so he decided to seek his fortune in more welcoming quarters. That's my take on it.

A glance back to Simon, this one rather more level as she peaks back the foil and reaches to swipe a fingerful of sauce from the lid. "We're well, thanks Simon. Body and mind. This is my sister, Dee. Dee, this is Simon. Shadow Lord and Ahroun. And Simon," a twist of her mouth, brief. "Trent's perfectly capable of taking out the trash." Among other things. She is pregnant.

That hint of a gleam in her dark eyes changes though. She cuts a glance from Simon to Patrick, back again. There's a leveling there, a certain awareness of the subtle physical signs of tension in his eyes and stance.

Her look is straight, so direct, her dark eyes reflective and her pale features sober. Just a narrow twist of her mouth, the border of bitter and sweet, that. "You need a hand with shit like that, you let me know. Be good for you and Eli to meet, though. He's driving a tow truck. Maybe some business opportunities for you both, there."

[Simon Zahradnik] His smile grew in response to Kora's comment."I am sure he is..."He adds with a little knowing nod of his head."So I thought I would inform folks. I'm starting up a little class... Next month. I am thinkin' we'll meet Wednesday nights. Combat training essentials. Lukas thought it'd be good to help people get prepped for battle but I don't think runnin' around trying to train one person at a time how to fight was as efficient as possible. Either way I'm hoping everyone will show up... This isn't just about teaching cubs how to fight. This is about prepping a sept for war so I'd call it mandatory cept I can't force anyone to do shit they don't wanna."He says this to everyone present before smiling a little."I'm also thinkin' we'll set up a friday night self defense class for Kin."He says before taking a seat.

His attention then shifts back to Roman and his grin grows brilliant as does the sparkle in his eye."Survival of the fittest... It's how it works. If you don't survive to reproduce then you weren't fit enough to reproduce right?"He asks with a little smile.

His attention then turns back to Mellody."Got a piece? Should teach most boys right quick to clean up after themselves. That's how I'd handle it anyway... They're garou they'll live, and it'll get the message across right?"He asks her with a little smile. He could be all kinds of helpful when it came to advice!

[Kora] (phone! brb!)

[Melody Himinndottir] "I'll... keep that in mind." The smile she offers isn't quite genuine, though it's probably close enough that no one other than Kora or Linus would notice.

Though it becomes slightly more genuine as she turns to look at Linus, and one assumes images of childhood are playing through her head, as she imagines their mother yelling at him to clean his room, and then shooting him when he complains. Ahh, is there anything imagination can't do?

[Drew Roscoe] Roman's answer is met with a curious raise of eyebrows and not much else. Kora's is met with a nod and a distracted look glazing over her face as she took to stacking up pizza boxes in a more orderly fashion against the wall. If they were supposed to be for a spirit then she wouldn't throw them away and risk offending it, but she was pretty sure the spirit would accept them stacked up and out of the way just as well as it would were they sprawled across a tabletop.

Once things were neater, when there was more room for the food to be set out, Drew helps herself to one of the garlic rolls and settles for that, for now, stepping back out of the fray of hungry Garou.

She was pretty sure she'd seen someone lose a hand getting in the way of some beast's feeding frenzy before.

[Prayers to Broken Stone] There's a moment, his meeting her gaze when he seems as if he's on the verge of something; some confession; some words to speak on what's been going on inside that pretty head of his. But then he stalls, and reaches out to snare a piece of hot bread, tearing some away with his teeth in a very wolfish gesture.

"Yeah, will do."

He settles for it itself, the simple, aimless confirmation and shoots a glance at Drew as she snags some bread. "You want a drink or something? I'm gonna get some of that whiskey Imogen left behind." Melody gets the benefit of those impossibly blue eyes next: "Drink? You might need it."

Whatever orders he takes, the Fiann shuffles off in the direction of the kitchen; it's hard not to breathe a little easier when he's out of sight, it's in nobody's imagination that his presence has gotten worse, that the rage that had been high to begin with now seemed stifling. It was equally in nobody's imagination that the change seemed to have occurred in the days after Heir of the Ruined Day's death.

[shadows] ((Do you guys mind one more? I promise to bring Rain in carrying dessert for the pack party ;) ))
to Drew Roscoe, Kora, Linus, Melody Himinndottir, Prayers to Broken Stone, Roman Turner, Simon Zahradnik

[Prayers to Broken Stone] (Go for it!)
to Drew Roscoe, Kora, Linus, Melody Himinndottir, Roman Turner, shadows, Simon Zahradnik

[Roman Turner] He listened to Simon and thought about it as he went to get plates and silverware. In the kitchen he murmured low to Patrick.

"Ya gonna be just fine. Ya part of us now. It's a solid thing, this."

He winked before turning to return to set the main room and set the items on the table before digging in to one of the pasta dishes.

"Well, I reckon folk might benefit by training classes, if they have a mind to sign up or whatever. I think it could be a good place for some of them that ain't packed to find others of like mind and maybe become more solid by connecting with others if they ain't packed."

He paused to take a bite of garlic roll, talking around the lump he pushed in to his cheek between chewing.

"Some of the Kin might benefit from combat training, though maybe not so comfortable with a True teaching em, ya know?"

[Linus] Linus is gone for a few minutes and when he returns his mood has settled to a calm boil. He shoves the door open and closed behind him, moving back into the Church while pausing every so often to wipe the wet from the bottom of his feet on the cold stone floor which is not as cold as it used to be after being outside for a few minutes. He sniffs at the air again, moving through the Church proper, around the appropriate bodies as necessary until he reaches the couches. He steps up onto the cushions and moves quickly past those standing around with digging hands and reaching limbs, hitting the end of the table with a few motions at those in the way to move...move...move...

Linus plucks up the Pizza box stacks, murmuring with the effort and teeters dangerously before slumping off the Couch arm and back onto his feet. He carries the pile of near a dozen boxes, on over toward one of the Church Corners, tucked away in the shade and shadow of the flickering kerosene lamps that line the support pillars of the Church itself. Several are dumped there. He then moves around the Kitchen passageway and the Altar, and deposts a few more in the next corner. He repeats this for the other two corners of the Church and returns to the tables with a quick yawn and a glance around at those present.

"Alright you Fuckers. Since You're all so complain Mcbitch pants about the Boxes, here's the deal. You stick boxes, but only those large enough to feed a family, in the corners of the Church. Each box has to remain in place for exactly a month after which they can be thrown out. Makesure there aren't any leftovers inside before you do this or we're going to get a lot of unwanted attention. If you see-" He pulls down an eye lid and stares around the congregation, stepping up onto a nearby Pew to get some height and oration "-any Rats or Rodents scurrying about the place, that's normal. Do not, I repeat, Do Not harm or hurt. They ain't friends but they do us good service."

A pause, as if to measuring if that was getting through to everyone. Then:

"Secondly, we've got a standing pact with the Ravens in the Belfry. No one here should be going up there, unless they talk to me first. All pack members know and understand the requirements to keep them Appeased. Do not piss them off or go looking to talk to them on your own. They will find as many different ways of taking advantage of you as possible and that's my Job." A firm frown. "And if you make my job any harder than it needs to be, I will bind a fuckin' Fire Giant to your ass hairs."

And he holds up a Third finger, though he'd failed to do so for One and Two.

"There are scratched in Glyphs along the foundation of the entire Church now-" And he points, around the lower stones of the Church walls, where the carved and chipped stonework indeed bares the rough and rudimentary symbols of the Garou language. Much of it is common knowledge among the Garou, but there are some if inspected, that do not correspond to any easily recognizable symbols. "These are part of an on-going Ritual of mine that requires some very delicate and precise, measures. Do not wreck, scuff or harm them in anyway. If you notice even one of them is in some state of dis-repair, you come and tell me. If something gets damaged, you come and tell me. If you spill some Cola on the ground in the middle of the church and it threatens to spread toward the Walls, you come and tell me. This shit is important and the more free favours I have to do, the less capable I am of serving this Pack..."

A pause, again, scanning the crowd of bodies around who may or may not be listening to him.

"That said...if any of you would like to lend a hand with Spiritual endeavors? Then I will see what I can do about giving you a list of possibilities. Do not." And here, Linus' features seem to drift into something...serious. Fierce, even "Do Not, fuck around with my Bargains or this Pack's umbral turf without telling or talking to me first and I give you the go ahead. Notice anything wrong, tell me. Simple simple..."

And he finally leaps down off the Pew, with a glance up at Roman and a pointing finger.

"Teach the Kin to fight? Fuck yeah!"

[Roman Turner] ((Lord, my brain is going, that made no sense ))
to Drew Roscoe, Kora, Linus, Melody Himinndottir, Simon Zahradnik

[Rain] It is not quite yet freezing outside. Not quite. The temperature lingers barely a degree and some decimal point above, but Rain keeps valiantly holding out hope for Spring. There were a few devilishly warmer days, just enough to get her hopes up, and then right back into the white-heart of winter's madness.

The heavy door of the Church pushes open again -- Rain doesn't knock to announce herself, nor does she stop at the threshold when she hears a cacophony of voices -- and one of the pack's kinfolk carries a bag of groceries and her guitar into the entryway with her. Of those voices that reach her, all she can really make out of them, anyway, is Teach the Kin to fight? Fuck yeah! from the Godi who hates to babysit.

The door closes, shouldered firmly and pushed until it latches, and then she finds a place to lean her guitar for now.

[Simon Zahradnik] He turned his attention on Kora."If one of your kin is gettin' hassled by the locals I can go take care of that shit for ya..."He offers with a little nod of his head."This city's pretty fucked up but most people like not living their lives in a wheelchair. You just gotta know how to politely to tell them to back the fuck down. If you cave they'll take it for weakness and keep pushing."He adds politely enough."You wanna push our kin around that's cool I just want folks to understand I will tear these streets up if they wanna start crossing our kind. Aggression might not be welcome to some but it's the only thing some of these punks understand. They know violence and they respect it."

He turns his attention back to Roman when he returns."Not some folks... And not the packless. Every single fuckin' garou in this city can benefit from training and working with his peers. Especially other packs. Even if you're the toughest fuckin' full moon in town you always have something to learn from someone else and if you don't then you have skills you can teach others."He nods his head."We're going to war and I'm not gonna sit back and let another soldier go out onto that battlefield unprepared."

His attention then shifts to Linus and he listens to quite a bit of important Pack information. He didn't need to know this so much since he rarely fucked with people's territory. However, there was a little at the end that involved him and his head nodded.

"Kin too... We don't want most of them to fight or whatever but whether we like it or not they are a part of this war and sooner or later there's a chance every single one of them will find their ass alone in a dark alley with someone. I'd like to see our kin prepared for that eventuality not just my tribe... All tribes. This is war and it's not about any one tribes blood cause in a war all our blood gets spilled and mixed up in the same greasy slimy fuckin' puddle."

[Kora] There are bowls in there, sturdy, cardboard. Silverware, and when Linus returns and begins giving the pack - the full pack, here - his instructions about the bargains and deals he has made, the spirits he has cultivated, the rituals he is unleashing on the unsuspecting stones of this great shambling solid wreck of a home-to-wolves, she dishes herself out a bowl of baked ziti. This takes eight trips back to the foil-covered container with the small spoon she has, but she makes each one while Linus speaks, watching him with the considered attention of dark, direct eyes.

A winging glance at Drew as she starts to straighten up. Kora's generous mouth twists at the rightmost corner, and she looks up as Patrick picks out a hot roll, slathered in garlic and butter. Bites into it. She holds his eyes for a stilling moment, nevermind the large group around them, it feels wholly private until her gaze flicks wordlessly back to Simon and Roman.

"He's right," Kora remarks, in her low alto. "I'm not sure the kin need to learn self-defense from an Ahroun. You wouldn't begin to - " a sharp kind of breaking off here. An indrawn breath. " - to know the limits of a human body anymore. What it's like to be stuck in one.

"Maybe recruit a kin or two, let them teach directly. You could observe, offer advice if you feel the need, but Roman's point is a good one."

A fork hovers over the ziti. "Hey Dee, hand me the parmesan, would you?"
Her half-smile is deepening, a twist of her mouth. She glances over her shoulder, lifts the bowl like a toast to Rain. Mouths, "Lasange" by way of invitation without raising her voice over the interval distance, then picks up her own hot chocolate and finds a place to park it. Near a heater.

[Drew Roscoe] Drew blinks at Patrick when he offers her a drink, then grins in good spirits and shakes her head. "Naw, I'm alright, thanks though." He accepts that easy enough, it seems, and moves on to offering Dee something to drink as well. Linus goes off on a speech about his doings with the spirits and the laws-- don't hurt the rats, don't bother the crows, don't fuck with the glyphs, things like that. She pays half-attention at best, the spirits didn't pay mind to her, she couldn't see or interact with them unless there was deliberate force on their end to make communication come through and reach her.

They're talking about teaching Kin to fight, and she's grinning a little at the thought, but not piping up. Instead she's finishing the garlic roll, rubbing her fingers clean of the grease and butter on her pants, and moving toward the door, pausing only briefly to touch Kora at the shoulder when she passed and explaining: "Just remembered something, I'll catch up with you guys later." From there she's heading to the door, but pausing when she sees Rain.

Rain's leaning against the door, pressing it closed, and Drew catches up with her before she gets too far into the church, speaking in a low tone of voice while she pulls her hat and gloves on and buttons up her coat.

"Rain. About the night at the coffee shop, I owe you an apology. Stole your night away and dashed it on the sidewalk, and then left you with your kinsman and woman to deal with them when I got their tempers up and going. I owe you somethin' to make it up. You call me and let me know what you'd like to settle us even and friendly again, okay?" She smiles an apologetic and sort of goofy manner for the Child of Gaia Kin, reaches out to pat her lightly on the arm, and goes for the door. "I'd hang out but I've got an agenda for the night. We'll catch up, okay?"

And gone. We call this drive-by-making-amends.

[Kora] A brief glance back at Simon, then. Kora shakes her head, quietly. "I appreciate the offer, but neighborhood watch was a metaphor, man." There's a hint of humor, there, a brief twist of her narrow shoulders.

[Linus] "...A good metaphor though. Bout as fuckin' useful, the lot..."

He goes digging into one of the bags in search of the Gnocchi.

[Simon Zahradnik] He shrugs back at Kora."That's the thing though... When something comes for them it's not gonna be pretty or nice. Especially those whose blood makes them a target. It's gonna be big and nasty and capable of tearing your heart out and showing it to you while it still beats. We shelter our kin from what we are capable of then they're not gonna get a taste of what they need to expect right?"He asks Kora curiously."I would like to believe the world is fair but it's not and the monsters that are gonna come after our kin aren't gonna be annoying dudes in night clubs. That's not what I want to train the kin to prepare themselves to face off against."

[Rain] There's some hullabaloo going on about Ahrouns teaching kin to fight. That's as far as she's gotten into the Getting Home routine of sorting out the pack's whereabouts (and going ons) when Drew wanders up to her, apparently on her way out.

Rain offers her seeming sister an understanding smile.

"You didn't dash my night on the sidewalk, lovely. But I'll take a girls' night, no drama, someday if you want to make ammends for nothin'." Her voice is evenly tempered, more than warm for Drew. Whatever happened that night hasn't changed how Rain feels about her. "Stuff gets complicated. I get it. We're good."

She moves out of the doorway to let the Fenrir pass.

"Don't let me keep ya."

[Drew Roscoe] Before Drew's out the door, Rain's answer has her pausing and smiling. Relief spreads on her face like butter on hot toast, and she wraps her scarf more snugly about her neck before nodding to the girl that's so easily mistaken as a sibling, even once as a twin.

"Girl's night it is."

The breeze is cold only for a moment, Drew's quick to close the door behind her and prevent heat from escaping.