House Party [Cutler/Sutherland Clan, Others]

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
The day turns out to be just fine for enjoying one of the last summer evenings in the mountains. Oma doesn't precisely expect a great amount of company, so when it turns out there is an enormous amount of foot it is less for a special occasion and more that this is simply how she cooks several days out of the week... and on a farm with five or six hungry farmhands to feed one or two meals out of the day, with houseguests, Josie and the kids, Oma herself... and three [wait, four now - Soledad's been about] full grown Garou, none of them shorter than 6'3" -- suffice it to say, none of the food goes to waste. What isn't eaten tonight will be eaten later -- sooner rather than later, really.  Come to think of it Petra, one of the new house guests [and true kin - blood family - to boot; lost and found. this seems the sort of home for that] was just as tall as the True Born menfolk and could probably swing at least Rafe around in his homid form.......there's a lot of mouths to feed and many of them take a lot to keep their stomachs full.Company may not be expected, precisely, but there is always extra to go around, that much is a consistent truth.One of the men - Sam or Eric, maybe both - have the double duty of tending to the meat grilling out back in the large brick wood grill, beside the fire pit [one of the few forms of 'cooking' Oma would leave to them and all the better to keep them the hell out of her kitchen] and keeping an eye on Teagan while she toddles in the yard or the other side of the back porch, full of their assorted outdoor toys. Lightning bugs come out as evening turns to dusk, cicadas sing, frogs chirp and yowl and in the distance the faint sound of the sheep, the goats, the hew-haw of Clarence of Clarabelle both of whom believe they are a goat and a sheep respectively.Two potential surprise guests for the evening, at least, have invitations: Nora an open one from the Alpha of High Ground and Drew an invitation from Oma, that formidable Fenrir Matriarch who perhaps - just perhaps - had a special reason for telling Eric to go scrub his face and change his shirt a half hour ago. Maybe.While side dishes are set up in their bowls or wrapped up in cozies to progress to the table [the big one, that seats 12 easily], Oma and Trey ["Trey Cutler, if you're old enough to talk smart you're old enough to set up and do some more chores, y'hear?" "Yes'm, Oma."] set the table in the usual manner for supper: Sam at the head of the table, Josephine on his left, Eric at his right and so on and so forth... the place at the opposite end of the table is set: With dish and glass, cutlery and napkin, but in lieu of food the plate has a woven beeswax candle in a holder. For there sits, ever invited, ever welcome, ever respected - invisible but ever present for several days now - the Totem of the pack and the home.

NORA EGAN
*Never come to someones home empty handed.  Nora certainly didn't.  Over a shoulder was a dear, already gutted and feild dressed as she walked closer to the farm gate.  She had cleaned herself and brushed the tangles out of her hair.  She wasn't a tall woman all of 5'7", her hair sun bleached, pulled back in her normal top knot, and one eye missing, leaving a dark hole were it had once been.  Her one eye was bright and sharp, much like an angry northern sea.  A touch came out to lick an upper lip, k-9's seemed to be a bit longer then the rest of the teeth in her head, and she exuded an unnerving feeling, most prey and heard animal would run from her general area, feeling the true predtor there, no matter how used to garou they were.  Perhaps if they had dogs on the farm they barked at her challenging her.The buck over her shoulder was young, maybe only a two pointer, and stuffed with many green things, already bled and ready for butchering.  She wore a ratty pair of jeans, and a plad shirt that was busy trying to rot off her shoulders.  Sleeves were rolled up in the summer heat showing corded muscle under.  She put the deer down, along with a bag that was over her other shoulder and waited.  They one eye staring here and there, not wishing to enter another territory without permission and acknowledgement*

SAMUEL CUTLER
Samuel in supper clothes. Guest clothes. Clothes laid out by his wife who had taken the duty up from Oma the day they got married. A heavy linen shirt is rolled up to its sleeves, a dark denim that looks more presentable than what the Godi could usually be found traipsing around in. It's not blood splattered or covered in rips and tears, worn from work around the farm and butcher's shop, and that's enough. Chinos are rolled up and bare feet dig into the grass of the lawn.Tending to Teagan, her father has found, is easiest if she's kept interested. She doesn't stray as long as he's making faces, haw-haw-hawing with laughter, or showering her with tickles. He glances up every once in a while where Eric is tending the food. A beer in one hand and Teagan in the other, he's more than happy to oversee Eric's work, giving him a prodding hard time now and then."Don't forget the suckling," and it seems as soon as he's at the fire pit, Sam's saying, "Don't leave that grill too long, meat'll burn," chuckling silently as he whispers some inside joke to his little toddler of a daughter. "'Wic! 'Wic!" She answers, simply repeating her uncle's name."You sure you ain't had too many? You can handle the baby if ya need me to take over!" Another guffaw, as he leans back into the grass hill overlooking the fire pite and places Teagan on his stomach. She holds onto his beard in chubby little first, pulling herself up as she climbs his massive chest.The Butcher certainly notices Nora, waving her up from the front gate down the dirt road leading up to the house. He has a child that might get fidgety in her presence and, should she take the wave as enough of an invitation to enter his territory, leaves greeting that stalking predator (yes, she's a guest, Jo) to his wife.

ERIC SUTHERLAND
Grilling was a safe chore for Eric. Many a night had been spent camping out of the RV with Revelry, cooking on a grill plate over an open flame. Granted one couldn't trust the man with anything more complex than meat, potatoes, and corn, but Oma was happy to hand it to him. After she'd hit him with a spatula.There might have been some choice words between them in between, to be honest, but still...Old Hag.What?Nothin', love you Oma.Git, you!Of course he wasn't totally sure he'd gotten the dry rub right. It had required the first steak cooked to be immediately tested by, who better. himself. Of course it hadn't been right so he'd had to cleanse his pallet with that growler he carried around half the time. A second try... yeah, about right.Also meant they were short a steak, but given the stack to be grilled that wasn't an issue.Maybe he should try another one just in case.That's when the dogs get to going and off in the distance some of the sheep get skiddish and leave the general area as well... which is pretty much a sure sign some one is here. Ever wondered how to guard a farm from the attacks of things that go bump in the night? Big dogs and sheep... the flightiest god damn things under the sun."Samuel... watch the grill", he says, before heading through the large house and into the front, towards the porch so that he can look down the road area and see who might be out there. Nora, or whom he assumes to be Nora. He hasn't met her but the woman matches Sam's description and a kin, unless extremely weird, wouldn't be waiting to be seen or acknowledged like that.The man's bassy voice carries easily from the porch. "Och! Come! Be welcome!" 

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
The woman of the house [though, really, these days there are quite a few grown women in the house, come to think of it] is late arriving from work. Most days at her job were actually mundane and routine, with a lot of red tape and paper work and phone calls and conferences and squinting at computer screens. Nevermind what the movies and the books made it out to be: Most cops - be they federal, state, county, town, whatever - spent a lot of time chasing leads that went nowhere and slugging through paper work when someone fucked something up -- and a little less when someone got something right.The day had started out with ease: Helping Oma with the kids in the morning, laying out Sam's clothes as she dressed herself for the late commute... work has started off rather dull.Apparently, however, the day got  eventful, because Josephine arrives home with surgical tape on her left cheek and the tale tale red-pink-swell with black-wire-criss-cross of stitches, a good handful, small and tight. Somehow in the course of her day her face was cut: Deep enough in the center to warrant the stitches but not so deep to cause huge concern.She drives up the small road extension that Jem and the farm hands often use to bypass the house and go straight to the ranch portion of the farm. It lets her park at the back of the house. Her cell phone rings as she steps out of the Jeep Liberty and out of habit she holds it to her left side, curses under her breath when it grazes the cut [fuck badgers!] and shifts it then, "For the love of god, Miller, I'm fine. Made it home all in one piece.... yes.... yes!" The words have that exasperated note of long time friends. Miller is an Agent on her section. "....I swear to god if you don't stop apologizing I'll.... yes," a low chuckle, there and gone again. "Gotta go, the wolves are hungry."She jokingly refers to her family as a pack of hungry wolves quite often. And it often gets a chuckle, a smile, a grin......mostly the truth of the matter just tickles her pink.Moving forward she cannot miss her husband or Teagan sprawled on the grass: Both get a smile, adoring, tender, if tired and a little stiff with pain. "How's mama's baby girl?" She asks of the delightfully chubby 13-month-old, before she drops her side bag, swoops down, kisses Sam brief but thorough and takes up Teagan in a small toss that delights her.And then her gaze takes in.. Eric. Nora. Nora is unknown but expected and her smile is genuine, if careful. "Glad to have you with us, Nora. I'm Josephine, Samuel's mate." And with all the eyes and knowledge of a girl born of these mountains, Good Ol' Gal, through and through, she eyes the dressed deer appreciatively. "A fine animal, Nora, thank you."

DREW ROSCOE
Drew had out mowing her lawn when a sturdy older woman had come up the sidewalk, approaching her directly, and invited her to a Family Gathering tonight.  There was promise of food and drink and 'it's about time to meet the family.'  Drew is nothing but pleased with the invitation, accepts it with nothing less than excitement and promises to be there at the time that was laid out by this strong gray Kin.Sure enough, the meat was searing on the grill and a family (without the upper-case F this time, mind you) was gathering in the grass outside the big old farmhouse when the rumble of a truck engine purred its way through the air and was soon followed by the appearance of a big cherry-black Dodge Ram rolling into the driveway and parking politely along its side, in case more cars were intended to show up.  The door swung open and Drew hopped down from the driver's seat and pulled a big bowl of potato salad (homemade, Daddy's recipe, thank you very much) from the truck bench with her.  The door's closed with her shoulder and she approaches the front of the house.A small statured girl, Drew was dwarfed by everyone here but the children.  She never grew past five-foot-two, and the flat sandals she wore did nothing to help that fact, but she neverminded it.  She dressed for the hot summer night in a thin cotton skirt in some pale floral pattern or another with a burgundy tank-top on top, dressed up with a necklace to break up the color block.  Her hair (which refused to go straight in the humidity) was bundled into a bun at the back of her head.  Most definite of all, though, was the bright smile she wore more on her face than in her teeth as she eased her way toward who she guessed to be Mom and Dad (she didn't immediately spot Oma, figuring the older woman to be someplace inside the house or around the back) of the family."Seems like you all are set, but I couldn't come empty handed."Referring to the smells of food all coming from the grill, the pit, and the kitchen."I'm Drew Roscoe.  Nice to meet all of you."

NORA EGAN
*Nora came when invited and acknowledge, the buck over her shoulder.  She walks with the stride of someone well used to it.  When she get nearer they looked over everyone with a careful eye.  Then they land on Josephine when she spoke to her.  She nods slowly to the kinfolk*Hello Josephine, I'm Nora, thank you for....*Her eye goes to look over the farm and home*...allowing me to visit.  Where would be best to put the buck?*She asks.  She looks over to Sam, Nora was a bit put out with all the...people? Hard to say.  Animals maybe? Once agian hard to say, but she looked out of her element in this family setting.  Her place was the woods and the umbra.  Her nose wrinkled a bit as she looked back to Joe, seeking permission as to where to put the gift.  The cold blue eye rises when Drew introduces herself.*

SAMUEL CUTLER
Samuel rolls up to his feet, keeping Teagan pinned to his side as he flips a few steaks onto a cooling rack sitting metal-on-brick next to the grill. It's quickly bowing with the weight of all the meat. He stokes the fire pit with an explosion of sparks that gets the little girl giggling again, and he walks around the side of the house. Trading Teagan to Oma who whisks the little baby inside the house, it's only a few more strident steps until he's upon the welcoming party."Evenin', Drew. Glad Oma managed t' catch you and get you an invitation. I'm sure she talked Eric right up, so I'm sorry if yer disappointed," a chuckle as he turns his attention from the kin to the other Godi. "Right this way, Nora. We've got a fridge in the barn," a big fucking fridge, at that, beckoning for her to join him to go plop the kill inside. Garou-on-Garou time, to hash out any words of War or the Nation that need to be exchanged, before returning to the kin. Now seems like it would be the time for Nora to speak. He seems happy to have it just be giving her the 'grand' tour, otherwise."Stables out that way, pens for the sheep over there, some grazing, the garden... It's a farm. And it's home," as they come upon the barn, should she have joined him for the private stroll.

SAMUEL CUTLER
[ Alright. I swear I'm going to start reading Damate's posts. But, let's establish a posting order. For me. Cause I'm an idiot. It's Jo, Nora, Sam, Eric, Drew, Dallas, rinse, repeat. ]

ERIC SUTHERLAND
Josephine got home and intercepted the newcomer, so let them him go back to doing man like things at these little power wows. Mostly that meant searing more meat on the outside and leaving enough blood on the inside to worry some people. That and his growler of beer. And avoiding the ever loving shit out of Oma.That's a top priority right there.(told ya to skip me)

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
[[I know it's out of order, but let me give Drew a greeting]]The Garou.. well... split. Samuel leads Nora to the barn and Eric moves off to finish the grilling, leaving Josie with a now-fussy Teagan [Nora's... aura... was not expected] and a beaming Drew......well at least there's one smiling face to focus on.So focus the woman does, shifting the baby, patting her bottom as she finds fingers to suck, eased when Nora leaves."Nice to meet you, Drew," and it is, never mind the chaos of dinners like these. "Josephine, like I said, but folks call me Josie or Jo. C'mon, let's set that bowl inside... have you been here long, honey?"Like most southern women she is often free with her pet names and endearments. And Drew is very easily likeable. Josie is just: Solid. Warm. Earthen. Maternal. Dutiful. And, tonight, despite the wounded cheek, in a good enough mood to be her old self again.

DREW ROSCOE
People part ways-- the man with the great beard taking the blonde one-eyed Garou with him to go on a tour of the farm.  However, both are smiled at and nodded to appropriately when eye contact was made.  To Nora, she is polite and open, but not pushy with how friendly she wanted to be with her.  With Sam, she smiles brightly and nods or shakes her head appropriately, but he's already moving on (he seemed to roll his conversations like a boulder, almost diplomatically were he not so genuine), so instead she turned her focus to the woman who remained with her chubby, fussy (but calming) baby.The scrape on the cheek is noted, but not commented on.  All kinds of things happened in the lives of Kin, and a cut or scratch wasn't anything to fuss over. They'd heal like all the rest.  Instead, Drew nods her head and moves along with Josie to go on inside the house and put the dish she'd brought to contribute along with the rest of the food.  As she walked, conversation flowed easily between the two seasoned Kinfolk as though they'd gone to the same high school or something."Josie, that's a nice name," is the first comment, and immediately rolled into an answer of the woman's question:  "Oh no, I only got in about a week ago, actually.  I've only barely finished unpacking, honestly.  Was mowing the lawn for the first time in god-knows-how-long when your Oma--" because that's how she had introduced herself to the young woman, and Drew was more than happy to oblige in calling the woman by such a name-- "told me to come on by and meet the family."What's your little girl's name?  She's stinkin' adorable."

DALLAS CAINE
The Shadow Lord was not invited, though that's no surprise. What Shadow Lord is invited without the use of a tip or a trade or a gift or a promise or a slit throat? No proud Shadow Lord that's for sure; no son of Thunder who would stand amongst his brothers with chin held high and eyes veiled, lips twisted. But Dallas is unlike most Shadow Lords that one meets. His Rage is far too high to start with; a Lord should be cold and calculating, not brash and brazen. He also puts too much faith in strength and too little in words. Which is surprising because it's words that bring him here tonight.You take that, cleanse it, clean it, and I'll get the wolf then come back and deal with this lot. A trophy is what he's after, most un-shadow-lordy. The skull of a giant fomori; the prize of a kill taken [slightly] cleanly out on the fields beyond the bawn to the west. He hasn't seen Samuel since that day and he hasn't sought him out either, be he seeks him out now. It's almost fenrir in a way: Something given [the cub; the veil protection] for something taken [the trophy, cleansed and cleaned and stripped to bone]. A simple trade, made complicated by the situation in which Dallas arrives.There seems to be a gathering. He expected a quiet evening, with kids eating fresh beans out of wooden bowls and a fire crackling in a one room shack with gaps in the panels that you could put your eye to and see a tractor or a horse drawn plough roaming through the fields while the man of the house finished up his evening chores.His bike would be loud enough to startle the farm animals if they weren't so used to human chaos being around them 24/7. It kicks up dust and gravel behind it as it turns up the driveway and heads for the farm house in the distance. Perhaps mistakenly, he had also driven up the 'farm hand' road that Jo had taken, leading him to the back of the place. The bike gets stopped; the stand gets kicked out and a man perhaps 6 foot, though could easily be more, steps off it, oil stained jeans and leather boots that tuck up around them, a plain white wife beater and a black leather jacket. He's clipped his hair since Sam last saw him; whittled it down to where its longer on top than on the sides but the slight curls hide that, the mess of it hides the rest. Sam isn't the first person he sees though, it's Eric, and they've never met before. He cants his head at the other wolf; he's too far away to really feel the pressure system caused by his Rage, and even if he were chances are another Garou would be itched more than blown away by it. Familiar; even in great volumes."I'm Dallas Caine," he calls out to Eric, observing some casual semblance of the Litany. "The Butcher about?"

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
Josie's smile broadens - cuts be damned - and she nods with a knowing look, insofar as Oma is concerned. "That's our Oma, yes. Between you and me," not really, because it's just the kind of thing other Kinfolk of the town say, "I think Gaia decided the world just wouldn't know what to do with Oma if she was True Born and I think Oma spoke up and told her that was just fine by her, she'd still be damned if she didn't find a way to survive till or come back for Ragnarok."And they are moving through the large home: Two homes, really, the original brick house built in the early 1800's and the "new" addition added on after the Civil War. It is spacious and just as well given the number of people who call it home. Country and quaint: Not a lot of fuss though what they have is well kept and loved."Ain't that right, Oma?" For the woman has ears sharp as her wit and without missing a beat the grandmother calls back, "Better dag-gum believe it. Drew, darlin', glad you could make it... Josephine, the supers on and Trey's eating in the back room, I'll just take Teagan and get her fed and to bed m'self."Which answers Drew's question: "Teagan," Josie says as she hands the baby over who eagerly goes to her great grandmother. "Our son, Trey, the hellion is apparently being momentarily satiated by stuffinf his face." And then she nods towards the kitchen proper...

NORA EGAN
*She followed Sam and took in the things around her.  Her head moved more then normally as her one eye tried to take things in.  She helped him put the buck up and away.  She didn't say much, in the way of nation or tribal things.  He had said once she had lost her connection with humanity.  Maybe she had, maybe she hadn't.  Hard to tell.  She kept things quiet and let him show her around.*

SAMUEL CUTLER
The hootenanny and one room shack that Dallas expects is nowhere in sight. Instead, it's a well-kept spread, with a massive house on the expansive acreage of a fully functioning ranch. There is some beat up machinery, but the fresh tractor treads tell they still run with a maintained efficiency. And the house is nothing to sneeze at, a stone structure with its storied levels and visible lines where it has been built out to hold a growing and expanding family.Maybe Sam had an uncle or other relative with the same sight as Nora, because he always seems to stay in the periphery of her good eye. Maybe it's the respect of similar auspice and rank. As they emerge from the barn, the buck stuffed away for another feast down the road - "You better come back t' help us eat this," he'd said as he easily hefted the meat away - Samuel notices the bike first and then the man standing next to it.He answers for his brother-in-law, now that The Butcher the Shadow Lord asks for is present. He disappears back through the door of the barn again and emerges with a cloth sack, sending it careening through the air for the Ahroun to catch. "Nice kill. Got yer taxidermy ready for you. Supper smells about done, and Eric ain't burnt it," a laugh and wink at his Skald, "So yer welcome to stay and eat as well, if you don't got not no place else to be."

DREW ROSCOE
In through the house they go, to a bit kitchen that was filled with bustling Matriarch and a large table that was set and getting ready to be piled up with food.  Drew glanced about the kitchen as she entered, spied wherever it seemed most appropriate to set her bowl of potato salad (she had a decent eye for the order of such things), and set it to rest there.  With no pockets for her to put her hands to rest in she instead tucked her thumbs into the hem of her skirt, rested the heels of her hands on her hips, and smiled at Antonia like she was just pleased as punch to even be standing thereTruth be told, she really, truly was."How could I even dream of saying no?  Trying to find Family and get back in touch with where I'm supposed to be was my entire reasoning behind coming out this way.  I'm glad you came by and offered to let me eat with you all tonight."  Then Teagan (the baby was identified with a name) was passed off to the older woman and bustled away to be fed.  Josie informed Drew that there was another elsewhere in the house-- a little 'hellion'.  Drew's shoulders square a little, pushing back to stretch a moment before relaxing once more."Quite the little family.  They the only kids of this generation?"The question has a rather odd ring to it-- it's very traditional, structured like those of a spirit much older, sterner, and all about business even if it did come from a smiling face and a sweet voice that was all good intent.  It was honestly, though, an inquiry about the rate of breeding.  She knew well (it had been muddled into her mind like mint leaves in a julip) that it was everyone's responsibility to continue the dwindling race of warriors -- even if she has been accused not-so-quietly of shirking said responsibility herself.

DALLAS CAINE
The cloth sack comes soaring and Dallas snatches it out of the air by the opening, curling a big palm around it and gripping it tight. It falls slack, heavy and swollen with the prize inside. He opens it up and takes a sniff. Clean as clean can be. A raspy rumble of approval and he jerks his chin at Samuel in thanks, then turns and stuffs it into one of the saddle bags on his bike. As he's doing that there comes a real invitation. Dinner. One eye cocked; head turned over one shoulder; he doesn't say anything until he's finished doing up the saddle bag and then he flares nostrils, thinking about it for a second while turning on the spot."I guess it can't hurt. I've been meaning to check something by you anyway," his gaze wanders to Nora and he nods to her too. "Involves her as well. Have a proposition." He begins to wander the distance between them lazily, rubbing the debris of the cloth sack off his palm."Heard your pack-" he says to Samuel. "Might be well suited for the defense of Browntown-" his eyes swivel to Nora. "Which might free up your pack to do something more offensive."

NORA EGAN
*Nora watches Sam disappear for a moment then come back.  She watches the sack fly through the air for Dallas to catch.  Still she stays mute and slowly folds her arms and frowns at Dallas as he talks.  She licks her lips slowly then finally speaks*I do not make decisions for my pack, that is my Alpha and my Jarl's decision.  Your...thoughts should be brought to him in person.*Her English was easy to understand but it had an odd accent to it.  Hard to place.  She looks around the place again.  Food was smelling good, but perhaps this was just too much right now.  Too many...minds, too many man made things, not enough wild animals, not enough trees.  She grunts softly*

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
"Well you're welcome, darlin', any ol' time...""As if you'd take no for an answer," Josie interjects, with a grin not unlike her brother's: All cheek and spark, with a belated wince that's more pissed at the inconvenience of the minor injury than anything else."Well now," Oma answers amiably, bouncing Teagan with decades worth of child raising ease. And no little amount of wicked gleam in her own eyes... "Don't suppose I would, at that."And she takes Teagan......while Drew and Josie head into the large kitchen, large enough to house a mammoth fridge, a table big enough to sit six easily, never mind the adjacent dining room for twelve more. Everything seems rather over-sized in the house: Not from opulence but catering to generations worth of large, strong people and even larger Garou. Drew comments on the children, the family, and Josie cants her head slightly, curious at the sudden shift in tone; one dark eyebrow arching over moss green eyes that are more than discerning... downright intuitive [often to the unnerving of the sorts of people her work brings her in contact with]. "Just the two, yes. We've been blessed, Sam and I. They were both born True."A mother's pride.A mother's fear.A mother's joy and a mother's perseverance.It's all there in her eyes. The words aren't gloating: Drew asks and Josie supplies with ease, for now, and then smiles with a wink. "Hoping to add another to the pack soon enough. Between you and me I think Sam's got half a notion to try for a True Pack all from one generation." She snorts, with the loving wryness of long couples, and rolls her shoulders. "Anyway..."Trey - the hellion, all mop of brown curls and dancing eyes - appears from a back door then and hollers, "Papa! Papa! That's ona the biggest damned bucks I've ever seen, did she rip it's throat out with her tee--"Apparently someones been spying.But the Garou are making their way in. And even Trey Cutler can't handle the joint bull rush of Nora's predatory visage and the unknown males sheer, barely held Rage. He gulps... and steps back to the tune of, "Trey Cutler! Don't you make me--"Yeah, Oma's giving him hell for swearing, and good.

SAMUEL CUTLER
It certainly sounds - and looks, because that bearded face always seems to manage to look so damn expressive and honest in its emotions - like a delegation of duties that Samuel can agree with. At the gathering of ranking Garou he'd offered boots on the ground, and other than ranging the bawn, the pack of Garou who shared bloodlines through marriage and spilled red alike were already ranging the hills of Hearth's Ridge where they butt up upon the bawn and the predominantly kin town.Dallas might've also noticed, getting to know the lay of the land from the country roads on the back of that bike, that the Sutherland Farm is strategic. Perhaps because of the bloodlines that had called it home, sealed by a Cutler-Sutherland marriage.Either way, Samuel looks open to hear more as he gestures toward the house just past those thrown open doors and the small copper bowls of burning herbs and dried leaves slowly bleeding smoke to keep away the fist-sized country mosquitoes. And there's his son, hollering. Sam doesn't give the Garou a name. Maybe he assumes they don't care. Maybe he believes that in grown company children should be seen and not heard unless spoken to. Or maybe he's too interested in Dallas' proposition to let it roll of his back at Nora's words of it being the Jarl's decision.As they sit down, jutting his chin toward open seats for each of them, his comments seem to instead build on what Nora just said, "I know the Jarl's always itching for a fight. Can't be sitting well fer him to wait for one to come to him - though we found out the other day it don't seem to take long for that to happen. If our Jarl agrees, that arrangement's somethin' my pack would gladly lend claws to and spill blood for, long as you leave a few fer us to tear up," and then, it comes to him."And it shouldn't be too long of a wait. 'Tween one of our kin getting jumped - " his solemn tone saying it was much more than his words let on - "last night, and wild animals getting tainted and taking pot shots at them in the wild places, along with what we saw after that cub. The kin know there's a war on, but let's all start reminding them that means even home isn't always safe," nodding to Jo, repeating a message he'd already given to Oma to spread.

DREW ROSCOE
Drew nodded at what Josie had to say in answer to her question.  The woman had given her a curious look, as though trying to figure out exactly where Drew's tone had come from.  The thing is (and this is one tendancy that set Drew apart from so many others) she didn't try to hide the fact that she just made the conversation a little weird with her very forward way of questioning.  She just laughed quietly, sheepishly, and lifted her hands to wave them in front of her chest in a 'no, you have it the wrong way' gesture combined with 'excuse my manners'.  "Forgive that, sorry.  Learned all I know from a pair that would've been better suited to the 1400's."And Josie explained that they had two children, both True, and smiled and joshed humerously about how they were trying for another, and perhaps they'd make it a full pack of siblings.  Here is where Drew's normally unfaltering good humor and bright smile falters some.  A twinge of sadness and envy shows both in and around her eyes -- the corners crinkled when her smile switched from genuine to held onto.  "Well," she concluded in a tone that at least managed to go unwaived, "isn't that just lucky as hell.  Or good genes, I can't judge."Then there's the 'hellion', a little boy with curly brown hair leaning out the back door and yelling to his Poppa.  Drew's smile regains warmth there, chasing most of the sad away again.  Then she chuckles to the sound of the Matriarch scolding the boy, and straightens some, turns her attention to the Garou that come into the home and set around the table, mid-conversation about something strategic, important to Garou -- the kind of thing she was taught was to be decided by the True but paid attention to by everyone around.  So she stilled for a moment, taking Dallas in for a moment because he was brand new (appeared out of the damn woods or something, must have been the one who came on the roaring motorcycle several minutes ago), listening to what they had to say about jumped Kinfolk and tainted animals.  Then, as though remembering where she was and what manners were supposed to be, she shook her head and returned her attention to Josie.  "Sorry!  How should I help?"

DALLAS CAINE
Fenrir Fenrir Fenrir. Every damn one of them pure as sin; pure as a god damn Silver Fang King. That purity isn't lost on Dallas, though if he were any other tribe he might pay it more mind. He's seen Samuel fight and that strikes in his mind deeper than the sharp angles of his face, the jut of the chin, the dense thick beard, the homage paid to a thousand heroes stretching back to times where the kin wouldn't only be keeping quiet, they'd be keen out of sight, out of mind, out of the house, out of the yard, in a pen somewhere waiting to be used like human stock.And here's one impure son of Thunder who looks more Gnawer than Lord, if it weren't for the sharpness of his stormy grey eyes; if it weren't for the words he brings to the table; if it weren't for the way the corners of his lips twitch and curl when Nora suggest he speak to the jarl. He doesn't comment about that he just nods his head once in agreement, he would have to speak to Cole- maybe already did- he keeps that to himself though one way or the other.A seat is dragged out and he places himself in it, drapes one arm over the back of it and the leather of his jacket hitches and squeaks under the burden of bicep and strong wood."The way I see it," says Dallas to Samuel. "You've got a nice setup here. Kin to look after whether your job is hunting or defending. Put the two together- pack purpose-a mate(?)'s purpose- would be a comfortable fit. Meanwhile, Cole's pack? Aspect of Twister? The only town you want a war pack like that in is an enemy town. I've got just the town. At least to check out anyway. Called Lurey, you know the town I'm sure. Right smack in the middle of the valley. I'm itching to sniff it out and need some claws to do it. If you took over Browntown..."He lets that thought sit, lets it swirl. Dallas doesn't look like a beta, omega, or anything of the sort. So what exactly he has in mind set the Fenrir Godi's lips to smiling."Well who knows what I might have at my disposal."

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
"Oh, we're not exactly all modern sensibilities 'round here, either. It's alright," and it is. It is because she says so: Not in a bossy way; not in a commanding way. It's just a knack, to set kin and Garou alike at ease with the sincerity of her words. As natural to her as the way she picks up on details most miss; on the gut of hers that borders on a sixth-sense......and a genuinely good heart.Shown as much when she catches the flicker of sadness, of envy. Her smile in return is a stoic thing: Like understanding extended as well as strength and solidarity. Simple, hushed, but present. "I was 25 when I had my first," she says.And the unspoken is clear: You have time. It'll happen if it's meant to. And then a flash of a broad smile: "You can borrow one of mine whenever you like. I peg you for the sort to enjoy Trey a mite more: Feisty and fun."The Garou enter and move for the dining room table, set for more than ended up being present tonight. Sam is speaking, but for a moment it's Dallas her eyes are drawn to, just like Drew: Though for Josie it's the barely contained Rage... hell, contained at all? She's surprised he's not frothing, whoever she is. It raises protective urges, hackles she doesn't poses but instincts she knows well.It's just as well the children are out of the way.She nods to her mate with ease, the statement acknowledge, nevermind she didn't really need telling. Then looks back to Drew. "Oma is a machine, everything is pretty much laid out. Here, help me bring the meat in?"And with that the two kin can eventually make their way into the dining room, platters of grilled animal in hand.

SAMUEL CUTLER
"Who knows what you'd be able t' dispose of, more importantly," and The Butcher seems more like a machine, now, the way those earthen brown eyes (churned soil, or a nicely aged steak) lock on the meat. He's patient enough, until he's got a big fork in his hands. And he's even patient and well-behaved enough to pile his guests' plates before his own.And then, looking to Jo, the way she's looking at Dallas. "A brother," leaving it up to Dallas to make his own introduction and give his own name as he sees fit, as he keeps his eye on his wife. The look is reassuring. "This is my wife," finding her eyes, with love, over the table, "My mate, Josephine Cutler, mother to my two children, and hopefully more to come, so I need to eat up," laughing as he finally breaks her gaze.He stands, grabbing a piece of bread as a sense of spiritual centeredness falls upon him and waiting for the others to sit for the blessing that is coming, if the conviction and solemnity on his face is any indicator.

DREW ROSCOE
Josie's sympathetic to the younger Kinfolk, and far from tactless while at the same time being direct and honest.  It was a special skill that The Butcher's Wife possessed, and Drew did nothing to fight it.  Again, as she had done with the odd tone when asking about how many children there were around the area, she did nothing to cover up the fact that children had struck a nerve with her.  She accepts Josie's assurance that she was twenty-five when she'd had her first with a smile, small and grateful, and that turns quickly to a grin when she offers to let Drew take one of hers when she likes.  Probably Trey, because he was a bundle of energy and Drew was young and full of life so she'd probably have a better time keeping up with a Wee Beastie.  "Sounds like a damn fine plan.  I work from home, so you let me know if help's needed."Antonia had pretty much taken care of all that needed handling, but meat could be taken off the grill and brought inside, so the two ladies started with that task.  Two hands make quick work, and both are practiced enough with food -- Josie from being a mother in a farmhouse, Drew from a long career of waitressing while getting through college.  So, before you knew it, all that needed to be on the table was, and Drew hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to sit exactly, but finally chose the seat beside Dallas and his furnace of Rage -- to his left, specifically, rather than his right.Her hands had fallen on the back of the chair, pulling it out a few inches before she paused, eyed the table, then glanced about like she was trying to decide where things were.  This moment of lost searching was concluded by her looking to Josie again and asking, in one word: "Beverages?"  Not asking to be served, but for location so she could serve instead.

DALLAS CAINE
They're not out doors anymore; the distance between them all can't keep out the feeling of the beast at their table, the pale god, the inhuman pile of wrathful vengeance born like Gaia took a finger and pointed it down at the earth, sent in a god damn thunder cloud and struck the man and said: this is my anger; see it burn; see it tear you limb from limb; cross me and be sorry. Dallas Caine is proof there's no such thing as a peaceful Gaia, a loving Gaia. She's a scorned woman, and hell hath no fury.."Yeah, exactly my thoughts, Sam."His head turns to catch sight of Jo staring in horror; they all stared in horror, probably more so for her children. She looks like she's got a spine that one- so does the one who sits down next to him. To his left. Maybe she's heard of the red right hand. The thought makes his lips twitch until she says that word: beverages.Dallas might have sweat on his brow; he might have narrowed eyes and his lips might peel back at that word, whatever he does he isn't fully aware of it in that moment but it passes without incident. Slowly he pushes his chair out and stands up, smiles across the table at Sam."Would you might if I took this-" he indicates the hunk of meat and bone laded on his plate. "For the road? I'd hate to let it go to waste, it looks real good. I don't mean any disrespect." His voice is a raspy thing, neither deep nor pitched, just grating and chargrilled like something sharp is lodged in his throat."Just remembered there's something a wolf's got to do and there's no wolf to do it but me." Curious.

JOSEPHINE CUTLER
With the ease of earnest looks and dual good-natures, the two women - younger and older - strike an accord in the manner of women when they aren't the sorts prone to jealous fits and the need to be catty. If Josie's reaction to Dallas - subtle, but there - and her choice of mate was any indication, she was less prone to cattiness and more to making a stand like a goddamned mother bear or she-wolf in her den.....and her husband knows her well. Always has, for there's is a relationship like songs and old stories and cliches. Childhood best friends; high school sweethearts, so on and so forth. With the steadiness of his gaze he soothes her -- with the steadiness of her own she acknowledges her trust in him to protect their home from the likes of the unknown. Love and silent communication and all the old things pass between them......when Josie looks back at Dallas this time she is more composed; hackles soothed; her nod welcoming if not gushing with warmth.Drew asks about beverages, but Sam is taking up the bread and preparing himself. Jo' smiles at the younger woman, lifting a hand slightly: Just a sec, darlin;. But then it seems that Dallas is preparing himself to leave and so Josie looks to him and answers instead of Sam: "You're welcome to take all you like, of course. And there's plenty of drinks in the fridge if you'd like to grab one as well, and welcome..." it might seem she's trying to rush him off, except when she intones, levelly, "My mate speaks an Old blessing before we break bread for the last meal -- if you'd honour us in lingering just for that?"Well, apparently Sam grabbed up this one for more than her breeding capabilities.


SAMUEL CUTLER
And Sam might be proof that one the mountaintops have blown and the earth has split, that life continues. That the battle is for something. And that fury and scorn is out of fear of losing something held dear. And as the Shadow Lord takes a piece of meat and stands, he nods. "Your message has been received, and there'll be a seat waiting fer the next time you come. No disrespect taken," and this is said with no casual tone. He is serious. And accepting of the excuse without question. And then, he begins the blessing."We eat of the land we protect. It nurtures us, and we defend it. Bread broken with friends, old and new," he breaks the bread, a large German rye loaf perfect for sopping up the kraut that fills a simple blue bown, and sets it in the straw basket from which he'd taken.Oma is in no rush as she comes in with the beverages - a growler of beer and a large jug of wine - like nothing less than the cavalry after Drew's question. Her grandson is speaking and she makes her way around the table pouring from one jug or the other as she each guest picks their poison, just as the next words come. "We drink, a little solace for those lost and taken back to the land. And to celebrate another day taken and savored. Another day conquered in Fenris. And for this, we thank Gaia."

DREW ROSCOE
Beverages would be pointed out, or dismissed, or someone else would fetch them.  Something along these lines.  Drew would comply whatever which direction you go, and at some point in the evening seem to vanish when she went out back to make sure the fire pit was stamped out, still burning -- to check the grill coals.Something like that.Either way, Drew didn't come back inside.  If they were to go looking for her, or even just poke their head out the back door or window to see if she'd gotten lost, they'd find her having conversation with a tall skinny dark creature in the night, out at the edge of the backyard at the edge of the firelight.After that conversation, Drew would have blown through to say goodnight and thank you to whoever might be lingering in the dining room or kitchen or living area, where-have-you, before dismissing herself to her absence with a rumble of a Dodge engine and the crunch of tires on gravel.