Running away.
Feb. 15th, 2012 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiananlogs+bbread 16/25:
During a turnover in the watch in the lobby in the wee hours of the morning, camera footage shows someone, identifiable as Flint from one of the angles. Leaving, straight out the door and right out of the frame in front of the tenement, and down the street, jacket pulled up around his ears and to obscure his face.
All of the bloody mess that Starcaller made in the stairwell has been cleaned. The hallway has been cleaned. All of the laundry from that cleaning has been put up, and got put in the dryer as well. Flint's bunk in the cubroom is made, but none of his belongings remain there. The cell phone he's had use of for as needed has been left on the table in the breakroom, with no note. As have the few items that Flint did not have when he first arrived at the tenement.
It looks, pretty much, like the cub up and left.
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
The moon is in the waning Half (Philodox) Moon phase (42% full).
It's been ages since he was here. But it's still here! And still inhabited by the right people! He can tell by all the Roaches! So that means he's welcome, right? However, the Gauntlet in the city being what it is, a certain Theurge's transition is somewhat… less elegant than could be hoped. Namely, he somehow falls out of the Umbra into a wall right behind Flint. *clonk! yelp!* Pardon the Starcaller while he deals with a suddenly sore nose. He'll notice the cub in a second.
Flint startles a little, turning to look at where there is suddenly a wolf, where there wasn't one before. And it's not someone he recognises, either, which leads to a slightly panicked backing up a few feet. Further away from the strange wolf.
Ow ow ow nose ow. After some industrious licking at the offending nose, the Starcaller sneezes with a shake of his head, blinks, then notices the cub. Oh hi! Ears perk up, his jaw drops in a lupine grin, and Flint is advanced upon for a good old fashioned sniffing. Who are you how long have you lived here you're new hi hello!
Unfortunately, the cub isn't really quite looking at the wolf, and misses pretty much most of what has been asked, and then Flint looks down at Starcaller. "Uh." Brow furrows down and nose screws up in confusion, trying to figure out if the cub actually knows who this is. Nope. Definitely nope. Though at least Flint stops backing up, and lets himself be sniffed.
Starcaller sniffsniffsniffSNEEZE. Wow, you must be new to smell like the city that much. Oh hey, what's in here? Yes Flint, you just got passed up in the Starcaller's attention span by the door to the cubroom. He'll remember you eventually! …hopefully.
That's enough for Flint, as his expression digs into confusion a little more. Hand shoves into one pocket, and then the other, in search of the cell phone, before he finds it. "Um, who're you?" That's directed around the door to the wolf now in the bunkroom, before Flint flips the phone open, and hits the first programmed speed-dial, to call Mouse. Ring.
What? Oh, right, hell! This wolf Calls the Stars to Dance! Said wolf pronks back around to face Flint, tail going a mile a minute as he chatters off in rather dense and rapid-fire lupine that he's a child of Rat and a Spirit Moon, hi!
Mouse picks up. Her voice on the other end sounds very monotone. "Yeah."
Flint just screws his face up in confusion, apparently not catching any of the lupus communication this time. "Mouse-rhya," the boy says, with the confusion just as audible in his voice. "A um. Wolf. Showed up in the hall? And is in the bunkroom, and."
Mouse sharply, "Get out of there, now. My apartment, go."
A nod, and the cub backs up a little. It's pretty quickly that Flint makes his way down the hall and to where he was told to go, a wary eye on the lupus the whole time.
Starcaller's ears perk up as Flint backs up and scoots off, and the wolf promptly scoots after! Oh boy, is this the chasing game! Come back! Yes, Flint is being scampered after, fear the bouncylupe.
Thankfully Flint hasn't hung up. "Um, Mouse-rhya?" A faint half beat of pause. "The wolf is um. Following me."
On the phone, audible to the boy, "Run into my apartment, now."
Waitwhereareyougoingcomeback! And the wolf takes advantage of faster groundspeed to scoot around in front of Flint with another bounce. Hah! Caught you!
The cub tries, honestly tries, taking off at a run before Stars gets in front of him. "Can't, Mouse-rhya. Wolf's um. In front of me." The cub sounds surprised, really.
It's at 'In front of m' that the entire hallway seems to erupt with gunfire. The sound is probably noticed before the Walker elder, and the pain is probably noticed before the sound, but suddenly she's there, in glabro, firing repeatedly at the lupus between her and her cub. BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM.
You are so slow! The Starcaller yaps, bouncing at Flint again. C'mon, put down the talkything and AUGH! Pardon the lupus as he skids downrange a bit in a tangle of painfully yelping bloody fur. WHA HAPPEN?! He's so startled by the sudden explosion of pain in his back that he apparently doesn't even think of shifting, instead trying to 1) get his feet back under himself and 2) get behind Flint. HALP.
Flint just kinda breathes out a sigh, skittering backwards enough that no, Starcaller doesn't get behind him, before he pockets the phone and looks up at Mouse. "Really, Mouse-rhya, it just showed up, out of nowhere." Deep breath. "And and." Sliiightly panicked cub.
Mouse apparently doesn't need to be in a more feral form to snarl, because she lets out a wordless noise of sheer fury, nose wrinkling, lips showing teeth. She tears after the scrambling wolf, firing several more times before her entire form bulks instantly to crinos, and then drops one more step to hispo, attempting to close the distance between herself and the interloper.
The door to Chris's apartment flies open as if kicked with extreme prejudice— though nothing is actually visible behind it, even as it closes once more in a somewhat more controlled manner. Anyone particularly perceptive might notice the carpet pressing down in the shape of a pair of booted feet, the extremely localised poltergeist apparently bounding down the hallway towards the sound of rage, fury and gunfire.
Starcaller certainly isn't fighting back! Really, he seems more confused than anything else, though by now "in pain" is making a good showing as well. It's pathetically easy for Mouse to catch him, especially given that most of her shots hit him in the haunches and back. He doesn't so much roll onto his back as fall over, staring up at the slavering Hispo in a tangle between terror and WHAT WHAT I DO WHAT?!
The cub nearly panic-shifts up to crinos as all of this is going on, backing further up and away from the commotion.
Devon had already been heading up the stairs at a leisurely pace when the report of gunfire reaches his ears. Those last steps are covered in a run and end with him breaking out of the stairwell and into the hall. No stopping there, the Ahroun takes in Flint, Mouse, and the strange and bleeding wolf as he begins sprinting toward the commotion.
First-Strike practically leaps on top of Stars, a frothing, snarling, half-Rage-crazed beast whose every motion indicates her intention to tear him to pieces. To that end, she's not remotely gentle as she steps on bleeding injuries and drives one heavy paw and most of her weight into his throat. Those massive slavering jaws of hers snap at his face.
Like a poorly edited special effect, suddenly Chris is standing in the corridor in glabro form in all his metallic-purple fuzzed glory, a pump-action 12gauge in his hands and a very confused look on his face. "The fuck?" He asks of the assembled Walkers as he shoulders the shotgun, aiming it at the pinned wolf but not firing.
Starcaller makes a somewhat panicked squealing noise, spends a subjective eternity (also known as some very small fraction of a second) debating the benefits of shifting to a larger form in the interests of self-preservation, and after careful consideration decides he is better off just urinating on himself in terrified submission. Don't kill him, he's sorry! As far as the lupus is concerned, the hallway is currently empty except for himself and the Hispo trying to eat his face.
All-in-Stride crouches, further away, barely acknowledging the arrival of Chris, or Devon. Most of his attention is on the Elder, and the interloper, before the cub relaxes just a little, and pushes himself back to standing. ~Mouse?~ Probably not loud enough to catch the Elder's attention, but. It's a try.
Moving into Glabro, Devon spares a passing glass to Chris. He reaches for Mouse when he's close enough, arms and hands trying to get in and around the elder to hold her back. Or tackle her. Either way, he's trying to get her off the lupus.
First-Strike jerks her head back, ears flat, and then clamps her jaws hard on Stars' throat. She doesn't bite down, but she does give the poor wolf a rough shake, snarling, before she lets go and presses her nose roughly into his muzzle. ~Get out. Get out before I tear each one of your legs off and hang them from the— Rrrk!~ She's pulled back, very slightly, by Devon's efforts, enough that Stars could in fact scramble free. ~GET OUT!~
Starcaller doesn't so much scramble as much as just kind of flop in a direction that is not filled with Angry Hispo, leaving quite the blood trail as he goes. He really doesn't get very far before he just kind of collapses again, panting. He'd be happy to leave, he's just having trouble standing up. And getting the room to focus.
Chris hangs back, covering Stars with the shotgun but not crowding the knot of infuriated garou any more than needs must. The muzzle of the weapon tracks the injured wolf as he makes for the doorway.
All-in-Stride moves to the other side of the hallway, getting clear out of the Gnawer's way, and the cub makes another sound of mostly confusion, pushing himself back against the wall as close as he can.
Devon releases Mouse, but stays near her side, turning to look at the wolf. He glances to Flint then looks at Chris. "Instead of ogling, maybe you could get the mutt downstairs where it belongs, find out what the hell this is all about." He just manages to tone it as a suggestion between slowing his breathing.
Devon released her too soon, perhaps, because she lunges again, snapping at the Gnawer's tail and already bleeding hindquarters. ~OUT!~ First-Strike demands, still frothing. ~I'm going to feed your worthless hide to the roaches where it might do some actual good, you garbage-eating piss drinker! She actually moves to snatch the wolf by his scruff.
Starcaller loses what little uprightness he had when First-Strike lunges at him again and just collapses in a heap, kicking weakly at the hispo. He can't leave if you keep biting him! But he was close enough to the stairwell to, well… kind of fall into it. And down several steps. With lots of pained yelping. That's going to hurt when he gets to the bottom.
The cub gives Devon a kinda half-confused look, still, before he manages to shift down into homid. Underneath his breath, there's some muttering now about having to clean up … and he breathes a sigh of relief when Stars is gone.
Dead-Quick swells up into crinos, tossing the shotgun to one side as Devon addresses him, the metallic-purple garou letting out a low growl at the cliath with a spike of rage. ~Remember the litany and respect rank, cliath,~ he instructs the younger male in a menacing tone— though he does go to the top of the stairwell as Tumbles-the-Stairwolf makes his exit. There is a wince at the assorted yelps as he takes up station at the top of the stairs, blocking the door should the interloper return— or indeed should Mouse attempt to pursue. Remaining in position there he turns. ~See to First-Strike-rhya,~ he instructs Devon, before looking to Flint. ~What happened?~ he asks, still blocking the doorway.
Flint looks over at the purple form of Dead-Quick, pulling in several deep breaths. "I was in the hallway and by myself and then suddenly he—" the cub points in the down the stairs direction "—showed up, and then Mouse-rhya said to get to her apartment but the was faster and then." The cub is skipping the occasional word in the explanation, and still seems a little shaken. "Really. Out of nowhere."
Devon lunges himself, yet again at Mouse. Hands and arms going to wrap around her and haul her off the wolf. He manages, somewhat, when Stars tumbles into the stairwell, leaving the elder to stomp off to her room in a snarl. He manages to quell his own growl as he picks himself up, a look going to Chris. There's a clenching of his jaws, some thought restrained from being spoken as he drops himself back to homid.
~I know of that gnawer. He… does that. Goddamned freaky fucking lupus.~ The purple garou shakes his head. ~We'll talk to him later. When tempers have calmed. Are you alright, cub?~ he adds, almost as an afterthought. ~Not hurt, your beast under control? You look shaken. Sit down, breath slowly.~ He maintains his position at the top of the stairs, his ears flicking back to listen for any sounds of Stars returning before dropping back to his birth form and pulling a packet of smokes from one pocket. A quick muttered incantation and then he lights up, seeming to calm down. "Have one of these if it'll help. Don't want a chain frenzy."
Flint sinks into a crouch, pulling in one deep breath after another. "Not sure," the boy says. "Just. Yeah, shaken." There's a pause, before the cub does, in fact, accept one of the cigarettes and the lighter. Nicotine if nothing else, and he seems a lot further from the edge of frenzy than he had been.
Devon looks at Flint when Chris addresses the cub, jaw muscles still tight. A glance angles back to the Ragabash a beat later then past him to the stairs. "Just going to let him continue to wander around uninvited," he asks, looking back to Chris.
"Downstairs is open to sept garou, unless the rules have been changed since I was last here," Chris replies in the voice of one who is doing their absolute best to remain reasonable. "Besides, the way he is right now, throwing him out into the street would probably not be the most veil-friendly of plans, hmm?" He takes his pack of smokes back from Flint and then offers them across to Devon after a moment of thought. "Half-mental bleeding wolf wandering the city? Not good. Bleeding homeless mentalist being booted out of the front door? Also not good. He's trespassed but that's something for Mouse-rhya or a philodox to rule on, rather than an ahroun or rage-abash like me— and tempers are running high." He eyes the bloodstains on the floor.
Mouse steps out of her room again— in homid, now— with a somewhat damp face where Stars' blood was. Her clothing looks quite rumpled, and she looks very tired— not to mention her hair looks buzzed—
but her expression is…considerably lacking. Impassive. There's barely a twitch in her cheek muscle. "Flint," and her voice is also very level, very calm. Toneless. "This hallway needs to be cleaned."
Flint pushes himself to his feet, the cigarette that he's gotten from Chris held carefully in his teeth and in his hand both, before he nods. "Yes, Mouse-rhya," the cub says, making his way towards and then into the breakroom to grab cleaning supplies, thankfully without stepping into any of the varying pools of blood. The cub still seems a bit on the panicked side of everything, but much less than he had been.
"Your temper is running high," Devon counters, quietly. "And I'd rather not have him running around, bleeding, unattended if he's half crazy as you just claimed." His eyes flick over to Mouse, then back to Chris, a brow lifting very slightly. He doesn't wait for a response, but heads for the stairwell to find wherever the lupus rolled to.
It's a moment later that Flint emerges from the breakroom again, with some rags, a sponge, and a bucket full of soapy water. But the cub doesn't make it more than a step, before he just leans back against the wall of the hallway and tries to steady his breathing from 'freaked out'. Which has the unintended side effect of the bucket of water spilling all over the floor, and all over the cub, and creating even MORE of a mess to clean up.
"Then go and attend to him." Chris's voice (which had been carefully modulated) has a distinct hint of a growl to it. As Devon approaches him at the top of the stairs he meets his gaze firmly for a few seconds. "And word to the wise. Do what it took me a long fucking time to learn and speak with more respect to your elders. Your life will be easier. Much easier." The gaze is held for a few more moments before he moves aside to let Devon past.
Mouse regards Flint for a few long moments, her expression— or lack thereof— not changing. Then she turns to head back into her apartment.
The cub continues to steady himself against the wall for a minute as he's suddenly more alone in the hallway than he had been, before he pauses in order to pick up the rags, and begin to mop up first the cleaning water, and the few nearby puddles of blood.
Devon meets Chris' gaze for a long moment, eyes following him once the Fostern steps aside. Only after does he take himself down the stairs to find the wolf.
****
After all the excitement upstairs, it isn't hard at all to track the cause of it all. He left a pretty obvious blood-trail, after all. A trail that terminates under the stairs themselves in a rather miserable pile of hispo that doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything other than trying to stop bleeding. Ow.
Following the trail of blood isn't hard, in all honesty. Devon descends the stairs and lets his eyes follow the trail around to where the hispo hides. Before approaching, he makes a detour into the laundry room, gathering up a couple of towels. Armed with terrycloth, he then approaches the nearwolf, cautious but not really afraid.
Starcaller isn't very confrontational to the towel-armed Walker at all. Indeed, his demeanor is a 'please no more with the hurting' sort of thing than anything else. But neither is he very welcoming, either. At least none of those bullets broke anything necessary. Somehow.
Not long after, the front door opens, and the Glass Walker galliard bursts through. He scans the lobby, but doesn't stop, heading straight across for the stairwell door, and yanks it open, too, before he finds the ahroun and theurge. Unlike Devon, Kavi is full of intensity and barely contained rage.
"Mind ex—" Interrupted by the door being thrown open, Devon looks at Kavi. His brows raise slightly and there's a subtle shift in his posture. Submissive, but with the intent to shift and intervene should the Adren decide to go off with claws and teeth.
Starcaller doesn't even twitch as Kavi storms in as well, instead just closing his eyes and sighing somewhat wetly. Ugh.
"Mouse?" Kavi asks of the ahroun, more demand than question, that intensity from his posture heard in his voice as well.
"Upstairs," Devon replies. "She's fine. Pissed, but fine." He glances toward the Gnawer then turns back to Kavi.
Starcaller lies there and bleeds.
Kavi is nearly to the first landing before he stops, and he takes the steps back down much more slowly, deliberately. "Furious," he says to Devon, and then he, too, looks at the Bone Gnawer.
"To put it nicely." Devon turns back to the hispo and walks closer. The towels are held up and his head tips toward one of the more noticeable bleeding spots. "You're making a mess. Mind some patches so you don't totally ruin the carpet?"
~Would stop if I could,~ is the pained response, but the Starcaller opens his eyes again and looks up at Devon, moving as little as possible. ~I would appreciate any help you could give, though.~
The galliard's gaze travels over what can be seen of the Bone Gnawer's injuries. As he studies them, his lip curls from his teeth. He turns the snarl on Devon. "Stand away from him!" Then Kavi takes a step toward the pair and he glances to the ahroun while thrusting a hand out to point at the lupus. "What did he do?"
Devon looks back at Kavi, unsure though he doesn't move away. He doesn't move further either. "Flint babbled something about him appearing. On the fifth floor. I heard gunshots up there, Mouse attacking him." He looks at Starcaller as though expecting the Gnawer to fill in the details.
Starcaller's ears, already at half-mast from pain, flatten further, ~I didn't know coming to say hello was going to get me shot.~ His tone isn't defensive or accusatory. More like bewildered.
The galliard's lip curls again, and the anger flares in his eyes. "Respect the Territory of Another!" he says, not shouting but with a quiet intensity. He looks to Devon and points toward the stairs. "Step back."
There's a touch of hesitation before Devon complies, hands pushing into his pockets. The towels are tucked under his arm in the process.
Starcaller just sighs and closes his eyes again.
"Even the cubs are taught that," Kavi says, the anger still present, but somewhat less intense. "Even they know to respect territory." He pulls in a breath, and turns toward the stairs, looking again to Devon as he does. "He gets nothing from us until Mouse says. Nothing."
Devon nods silently, taking another step until he's nearest the door.
****
Flint has managed to mop up about half of the blood in the upstairs hallway, but right now the bloodied towels rest on the floor at his feet, and the cub's leaning against the wall with the half-stub of a cigarette in one hand, trying to calm himself down from the edge of panic once again. Which is harder when there's no one else in the hallway.
Mouse's door is shut, but the strains of Beethoven— it's Beethoven's ninth again— are quite audible, even down the hall. She's got the music turned up far louder than she usually does.
The door from the stairwell opens, and Kavi steps through. He pauses, just in the doorway, and takes a moment to look at the cub and the remains of the mess. The tension is still high in the galliard, and he glances once behind him before letting the door close in his wake.
Flint looks up from resting his head against his arm, a very, very silent nod given to Kavi. Other than that, though, the cub doesn't move.
A couple seconds pass before the door opens again, this time admitting Devon. He stops in the doorway, a glance going from Kavi to the remaining mess in the hall. The Ahroun doesn't try to move past the Galliard into the hall, though, instead taking half a step back to wait and half close the door again.
Kavi spends a moment more studying the cub, gaze taking in that stub of a cigarette. "You're okay?" he asks, his voice controlled and even, despite the obvious unevenness in his expression. He's already several feet away from the door when it opens again, and he glances behind to the ahroun, though doesn't speak again.
It's hard to tell, and the boy's expression betrays that he's not really sure he knows, yet, as he looks down at his feet. Doesn't even acknowledge Devon's presence at first, except perhaps with a twitch of lowered gaze. He pulls in another deep breath, then looks back to Kavi. "Kinda? Yeah."
Devon pulls the door open again and steps into the hallway. A hand holds the door from closing loudly, and once the quiet click announces that it's latched, the Ahroun moves down the hallway. He doesn't look at Flint, nor chases after Kavi. He goes straight for the mess still left on the floor with his pair of towels, going to his knees to pick up where the cub left off on cleaning.
Kavi nods to Flint, and some of the anger seems to fade as his brow creases. "Okay," he adds, verbally, and glances again to Devon before moving on toward Mouse's door. The knock is light, but enough to be audible through the music, and the pattern is typical of the galliard.
There's no immediate response, though Kavi may hear the sound of bedsprings.
Flint seems to settle against the wall a moment, putting the cigarette back to his lips with fingers that still pinch it way too tightly. And the cub's shoulders still shake, but he did say he was okay. A moment longer passes like this before he begins to gather the bloodied towels and rags that he'd left at his feet into a plastic bag that he'd gotten for the purpose.
Devon mops up spatters of blood and water off the floor, dragging the bucket closer to himself to wring out the towels. His eyes stay on the task, whatever words or thoughts remain inside.
Kavi doesn't knock again, but instead waits. He turns a little, to where he can watch the younger Garou as they clean.
Eventually, the door clicks as the lock releases, but Mouse still doesn't open the door, and the music—which has now swapped over to something much more modern, but still instrumental, continues.
Flint works to clean for a little, before the shakiness and half-panic returns, and this time, the cub crouches against the wall, pulling his breathing back to steady and then not moving.
"Get ahold of yourself," Devon mutters. He continues to scrub, doesn't look at the cub, but his words are unmistakably for Flint. "Seriously. Shit happens, you can't just break down and have a panic attack any time it does. It's not useful."
Kavi waits for a moment more, and is just reaching for the knob when he turns to Devon with a frown. "Leave him alone. Or be helpful. Think about what you say, and how it will be heard." Hand on the knob, he still hesitates a moment more before he begins to turn.
The cub practically snaps, still crouched. "F'k off," he mutters in Devon's direction, falling silent as Kavi speaks. Flint angles to turn away from Devon entirely.
No protest is uttered from inside the apartment at Kavi's doorknob turning.
Devon's hand tightens around the towel he holds, not from Kavi's words but from the cub's response. He looks at Flint for a long moment, tension rising from his hand to his arm, into his posture. He looks down the hall to Kavi and Mouse's apartment then back to the cub. "Fine." The word is dropped heavily as he stands and turns for the stairwell.
Kavi waits just another second, and then turns the knob the rest of the way and opens the door a foot or so. "Mouse-rhya?"
Flint turns to further ignore Devon as Devon leaves, taking a few steps to pick up one of the towels and dip it in the bucket, crouching against the wall and beginning to clean the last remaining area of mess, where blood is spattered against the wall as well as the floor.
Devon pauses at the door, hand grasping the knob with a grip that, in another form, would chance to crush it. "Y'know what," he says, more to himself than anyone. He turns and looks at Flint. "What gives you the right to tell me to fuck off, cub?"
Kavi stops and turns, the anger rising in him as obviously as in the others. "Stop!" he says, with that cool, quiet intensity. "Enough. Disrespect is disrespect. It does not matter from whom. Separate. Spend time apart. But do not speak again until you have calmed."
The words from the older galliard in fact still the cub from something that would be spoken more quickly in anger, and the remaining bloodied towels are shoved into the plastic bag, one more taken to give a final rinse of the floor and wall, as Flint then moves further away from Devon, a few steps towards Kavi, still crouched and leaning against the wall, though panic has since been replaced by anger that is harder to rein in.
"What," Devon asks, with a half laugh, the sort that comes out with angry disbelief. "So, I'm supposed to just let a cub talk to me like that? You know what happened when I did, or do?" He shakes his head and pulls open the stairwell door. "Fine, I get it. I'm not coming back," he says before closing the door behind him and going down the stairs.
Kavi watches Devon go, watches the door close behind him, and then waits for a beat before he looks to Flint. He watches the cub much the way he watched the space Devon vacated, and though the emotion is still high, his expression softens somewhat. "What he said was wrong. What you said was wrong. You understand that, right? You don't have to like it, but he's right. You are a cub, and he is a cliath, and you do not have the right to talk back to him. This is an important thing to learn. That. That you have to not say things. Think them. Feel them. But keep them inside until you can say it safely."
Flint nods, pulling one hand up to rub at his brow. "Yes," the boy admits, quietly. "I do get it." Slowly, the anger the cub holds in his shoulder drains, replaced more by dismay. "I didn't. I didn't think about it before it got out of my mouth, Kavi-rhya."
Kavi nods. "It's impulse. But you can learn to control it. And you have to. Practice it. Find a way to… to remind yourself, when you start to feel that anger, to close your mouth and submit." He draws in a breath and lets it out slowly, glancing just once back through the partially open door. "I. I'm going to see to Mouse. You should finish cleaning and then find a way to take care of yourself."
"I need to clean the stairwell and all, too," the boy murmurs, pushing himself to his feet. "And yes, Kavi-rhya. I." Flint pauses, looks down at his feet, then back to Kavi once more. "I'm sorry for freaking out and causing all of this in the first place." The last is added, a little more certainly, before the cub begins picking up the cleaning supplies.
Kavi watches for a moment before he nods again. "I. I still don't know what happened, but. But we can talk about it, later. Okay?" He turns, after, and slips through the open door, closing it behind him.
During a turnover in the watch in the lobby in the wee hours of the morning, camera footage shows someone, identifiable as Flint from one of the angles. Leaving, straight out the door and right out of the frame in front of the tenement, and down the street, jacket pulled up around his ears and to obscure his face.
All of the bloody mess that Starcaller made in the stairwell has been cleaned. The hallway has been cleaned. All of the laundry from that cleaning has been put up, and got put in the dryer as well. Flint's bunk in the cubroom is made, but none of his belongings remain there. The cell phone he's had use of for as needed has been left on the table in the breakroom, with no note. As have the few items that Flint did not have when he first arrived at the tenement.
It looks, pretty much, like the cub up and left.
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
The moon is in the waning Half (Philodox) Moon phase (42% full).
It's been ages since he was here. But it's still here! And still inhabited by the right people! He can tell by all the Roaches! So that means he's welcome, right? However, the Gauntlet in the city being what it is, a certain Theurge's transition is somewhat… less elegant than could be hoped. Namely, he somehow falls out of the Umbra into a wall right behind Flint. *clonk! yelp!* Pardon the Starcaller while he deals with a suddenly sore nose. He'll notice the cub in a second.
Flint startles a little, turning to look at where there is suddenly a wolf, where there wasn't one before. And it's not someone he recognises, either, which leads to a slightly panicked backing up a few feet. Further away from the strange wolf.
Ow ow ow nose ow. After some industrious licking at the offending nose, the Starcaller sneezes with a shake of his head, blinks, then notices the cub. Oh hi! Ears perk up, his jaw drops in a lupine grin, and Flint is advanced upon for a good old fashioned sniffing. Who are you how long have you lived here you're new hi hello!
Unfortunately, the cub isn't really quite looking at the wolf, and misses pretty much most of what has been asked, and then Flint looks down at Starcaller. "Uh." Brow furrows down and nose screws up in confusion, trying to figure out if the cub actually knows who this is. Nope. Definitely nope. Though at least Flint stops backing up, and lets himself be sniffed.
Starcaller sniffsniffsniffSNEEZE. Wow, you must be new to smell like the city that much. Oh hey, what's in here? Yes Flint, you just got passed up in the Starcaller's attention span by the door to the cubroom. He'll remember you eventually! …hopefully.
That's enough for Flint, as his expression digs into confusion a little more. Hand shoves into one pocket, and then the other, in search of the cell phone, before he finds it. "Um, who're you?" That's directed around the door to the wolf now in the bunkroom, before Flint flips the phone open, and hits the first programmed speed-dial, to call Mouse. Ring.
What? Oh, right, hell! This wolf Calls the Stars to Dance! Said wolf pronks back around to face Flint, tail going a mile a minute as he chatters off in rather dense and rapid-fire lupine that he's a child of Rat and a Spirit Moon, hi!
Mouse picks up. Her voice on the other end sounds very monotone. "Yeah."
Flint just screws his face up in confusion, apparently not catching any of the lupus communication this time. "Mouse-rhya," the boy says, with the confusion just as audible in his voice. "A um. Wolf. Showed up in the hall? And is in the bunkroom, and."
Mouse sharply, "Get out of there, now. My apartment, go."
A nod, and the cub backs up a little. It's pretty quickly that Flint makes his way down the hall and to where he was told to go, a wary eye on the lupus the whole time.
Starcaller's ears perk up as Flint backs up and scoots off, and the wolf promptly scoots after! Oh boy, is this the chasing game! Come back! Yes, Flint is being scampered after, fear the bouncylupe.
Thankfully Flint hasn't hung up. "Um, Mouse-rhya?" A faint half beat of pause. "The wolf is um. Following me."
On the phone, audible to the boy, "Run into my apartment, now."
Waitwhereareyougoingcomeback! And the wolf takes advantage of faster groundspeed to scoot around in front of Flint with another bounce. Hah! Caught you!
The cub tries, honestly tries, taking off at a run before Stars gets in front of him. "Can't, Mouse-rhya. Wolf's um. In front of me." The cub sounds surprised, really.
It's at 'In front of m' that the entire hallway seems to erupt with gunfire. The sound is probably noticed before the Walker elder, and the pain is probably noticed before the sound, but suddenly she's there, in glabro, firing repeatedly at the lupus between her and her cub. BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM.
You are so slow! The Starcaller yaps, bouncing at Flint again. C'mon, put down the talkything and AUGH! Pardon the lupus as he skids downrange a bit in a tangle of painfully yelping bloody fur. WHA HAPPEN?! He's so startled by the sudden explosion of pain in his back that he apparently doesn't even think of shifting, instead trying to 1) get his feet back under himself and 2) get behind Flint. HALP.
Flint just kinda breathes out a sigh, skittering backwards enough that no, Starcaller doesn't get behind him, before he pockets the phone and looks up at Mouse. "Really, Mouse-rhya, it just showed up, out of nowhere." Deep breath. "And and." Sliiightly panicked cub.
Mouse apparently doesn't need to be in a more feral form to snarl, because she lets out a wordless noise of sheer fury, nose wrinkling, lips showing teeth. She tears after the scrambling wolf, firing several more times before her entire form bulks instantly to crinos, and then drops one more step to hispo, attempting to close the distance between herself and the interloper.
The door to Chris's apartment flies open as if kicked with extreme prejudice— though nothing is actually visible behind it, even as it closes once more in a somewhat more controlled manner. Anyone particularly perceptive might notice the carpet pressing down in the shape of a pair of booted feet, the extremely localised poltergeist apparently bounding down the hallway towards the sound of rage, fury and gunfire.
Starcaller certainly isn't fighting back! Really, he seems more confused than anything else, though by now "in pain" is making a good showing as well. It's pathetically easy for Mouse to catch him, especially given that most of her shots hit him in the haunches and back. He doesn't so much roll onto his back as fall over, staring up at the slavering Hispo in a tangle between terror and WHAT WHAT I DO WHAT?!
The cub nearly panic-shifts up to crinos as all of this is going on, backing further up and away from the commotion.
Devon had already been heading up the stairs at a leisurely pace when the report of gunfire reaches his ears. Those last steps are covered in a run and end with him breaking out of the stairwell and into the hall. No stopping there, the Ahroun takes in Flint, Mouse, and the strange and bleeding wolf as he begins sprinting toward the commotion.
First-Strike practically leaps on top of Stars, a frothing, snarling, half-Rage-crazed beast whose every motion indicates her intention to tear him to pieces. To that end, she's not remotely gentle as she steps on bleeding injuries and drives one heavy paw and most of her weight into his throat. Those massive slavering jaws of hers snap at his face.
Like a poorly edited special effect, suddenly Chris is standing in the corridor in glabro form in all his metallic-purple fuzzed glory, a pump-action 12gauge in his hands and a very confused look on his face. "The fuck?" He asks of the assembled Walkers as he shoulders the shotgun, aiming it at the pinned wolf but not firing.
Starcaller makes a somewhat panicked squealing noise, spends a subjective eternity (also known as some very small fraction of a second) debating the benefits of shifting to a larger form in the interests of self-preservation, and after careful consideration decides he is better off just urinating on himself in terrified submission. Don't kill him, he's sorry! As far as the lupus is concerned, the hallway is currently empty except for himself and the Hispo trying to eat his face.
All-in-Stride crouches, further away, barely acknowledging the arrival of Chris, or Devon. Most of his attention is on the Elder, and the interloper, before the cub relaxes just a little, and pushes himself back to standing. ~Mouse?~ Probably not loud enough to catch the Elder's attention, but. It's a try.
Moving into Glabro, Devon spares a passing glass to Chris. He reaches for Mouse when he's close enough, arms and hands trying to get in and around the elder to hold her back. Or tackle her. Either way, he's trying to get her off the lupus.
First-Strike jerks her head back, ears flat, and then clamps her jaws hard on Stars' throat. She doesn't bite down, but she does give the poor wolf a rough shake, snarling, before she lets go and presses her nose roughly into his muzzle. ~Get out. Get out before I tear each one of your legs off and hang them from the— Rrrk!~ She's pulled back, very slightly, by Devon's efforts, enough that Stars could in fact scramble free. ~GET OUT!~
Starcaller doesn't so much scramble as much as just kind of flop in a direction that is not filled with Angry Hispo, leaving quite the blood trail as he goes. He really doesn't get very far before he just kind of collapses again, panting. He'd be happy to leave, he's just having trouble standing up. And getting the room to focus.
Chris hangs back, covering Stars with the shotgun but not crowding the knot of infuriated garou any more than needs must. The muzzle of the weapon tracks the injured wolf as he makes for the doorway.
All-in-Stride moves to the other side of the hallway, getting clear out of the Gnawer's way, and the cub makes another sound of mostly confusion, pushing himself back against the wall as close as he can.
Devon releases Mouse, but stays near her side, turning to look at the wolf. He glances to Flint then looks at Chris. "Instead of ogling, maybe you could get the mutt downstairs where it belongs, find out what the hell this is all about." He just manages to tone it as a suggestion between slowing his breathing.
Devon released her too soon, perhaps, because she lunges again, snapping at the Gnawer's tail and already bleeding hindquarters. ~OUT!~ First-Strike demands, still frothing. ~I'm going to feed your worthless hide to the roaches where it might do some actual good, you garbage-eating piss drinker! She actually moves to snatch the wolf by his scruff.
Starcaller loses what little uprightness he had when First-Strike lunges at him again and just collapses in a heap, kicking weakly at the hispo. He can't leave if you keep biting him! But he was close enough to the stairwell to, well… kind of fall into it. And down several steps. With lots of pained yelping. That's going to hurt when he gets to the bottom.
The cub gives Devon a kinda half-confused look, still, before he manages to shift down into homid. Underneath his breath, there's some muttering now about having to clean up … and he breathes a sigh of relief when Stars is gone.
Dead-Quick swells up into crinos, tossing the shotgun to one side as Devon addresses him, the metallic-purple garou letting out a low growl at the cliath with a spike of rage. ~Remember the litany and respect rank, cliath,~ he instructs the younger male in a menacing tone— though he does go to the top of the stairwell as Tumbles-the-Stairwolf makes his exit. There is a wince at the assorted yelps as he takes up station at the top of the stairs, blocking the door should the interloper return— or indeed should Mouse attempt to pursue. Remaining in position there he turns. ~See to First-Strike-rhya,~ he instructs Devon, before looking to Flint. ~What happened?~ he asks, still blocking the doorway.
Flint looks over at the purple form of Dead-Quick, pulling in several deep breaths. "I was in the hallway and by myself and then suddenly he—" the cub points in the down the stairs direction "—showed up, and then Mouse-rhya said to get to her apartment but the was faster and then." The cub is skipping the occasional word in the explanation, and still seems a little shaken. "Really. Out of nowhere."
Devon lunges himself, yet again at Mouse. Hands and arms going to wrap around her and haul her off the wolf. He manages, somewhat, when Stars tumbles into the stairwell, leaving the elder to stomp off to her room in a snarl. He manages to quell his own growl as he picks himself up, a look going to Chris. There's a clenching of his jaws, some thought restrained from being spoken as he drops himself back to homid.
~I know of that gnawer. He… does that. Goddamned freaky fucking lupus.~ The purple garou shakes his head. ~We'll talk to him later. When tempers have calmed. Are you alright, cub?~ he adds, almost as an afterthought. ~Not hurt, your beast under control? You look shaken. Sit down, breath slowly.~ He maintains his position at the top of the stairs, his ears flicking back to listen for any sounds of Stars returning before dropping back to his birth form and pulling a packet of smokes from one pocket. A quick muttered incantation and then he lights up, seeming to calm down. "Have one of these if it'll help. Don't want a chain frenzy."
Flint sinks into a crouch, pulling in one deep breath after another. "Not sure," the boy says. "Just. Yeah, shaken." There's a pause, before the cub does, in fact, accept one of the cigarettes and the lighter. Nicotine if nothing else, and he seems a lot further from the edge of frenzy than he had been.
Devon looks at Flint when Chris addresses the cub, jaw muscles still tight. A glance angles back to the Ragabash a beat later then past him to the stairs. "Just going to let him continue to wander around uninvited," he asks, looking back to Chris.
"Downstairs is open to sept garou, unless the rules have been changed since I was last here," Chris replies in the voice of one who is doing their absolute best to remain reasonable. "Besides, the way he is right now, throwing him out into the street would probably not be the most veil-friendly of plans, hmm?" He takes his pack of smokes back from Flint and then offers them across to Devon after a moment of thought. "Half-mental bleeding wolf wandering the city? Not good. Bleeding homeless mentalist being booted out of the front door? Also not good. He's trespassed but that's something for Mouse-rhya or a philodox to rule on, rather than an ahroun or rage-abash like me— and tempers are running high." He eyes the bloodstains on the floor.
Mouse steps out of her room again— in homid, now— with a somewhat damp face where Stars' blood was. Her clothing looks quite rumpled, and she looks very tired— not to mention her hair looks buzzed—
but her expression is…considerably lacking. Impassive. There's barely a twitch in her cheek muscle. "Flint," and her voice is also very level, very calm. Toneless. "This hallway needs to be cleaned."
Flint pushes himself to his feet, the cigarette that he's gotten from Chris held carefully in his teeth and in his hand both, before he nods. "Yes, Mouse-rhya," the cub says, making his way towards and then into the breakroom to grab cleaning supplies, thankfully without stepping into any of the varying pools of blood. The cub still seems a bit on the panicked side of everything, but much less than he had been.
"Your temper is running high," Devon counters, quietly. "And I'd rather not have him running around, bleeding, unattended if he's half crazy as you just claimed." His eyes flick over to Mouse, then back to Chris, a brow lifting very slightly. He doesn't wait for a response, but heads for the stairwell to find wherever the lupus rolled to.
It's a moment later that Flint emerges from the breakroom again, with some rags, a sponge, and a bucket full of soapy water. But the cub doesn't make it more than a step, before he just leans back against the wall of the hallway and tries to steady his breathing from 'freaked out'. Which has the unintended side effect of the bucket of water spilling all over the floor, and all over the cub, and creating even MORE of a mess to clean up.
"Then go and attend to him." Chris's voice (which had been carefully modulated) has a distinct hint of a growl to it. As Devon approaches him at the top of the stairs he meets his gaze firmly for a few seconds. "And word to the wise. Do what it took me a long fucking time to learn and speak with more respect to your elders. Your life will be easier. Much easier." The gaze is held for a few more moments before he moves aside to let Devon past.
Mouse regards Flint for a few long moments, her expression— or lack thereof— not changing. Then she turns to head back into her apartment.
The cub continues to steady himself against the wall for a minute as he's suddenly more alone in the hallway than he had been, before he pauses in order to pick up the rags, and begin to mop up first the cleaning water, and the few nearby puddles of blood.
Devon meets Chris' gaze for a long moment, eyes following him once the Fostern steps aside. Only after does he take himself down the stairs to find the wolf.
****
After all the excitement upstairs, it isn't hard at all to track the cause of it all. He left a pretty obvious blood-trail, after all. A trail that terminates under the stairs themselves in a rather miserable pile of hispo that doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything other than trying to stop bleeding. Ow.
Following the trail of blood isn't hard, in all honesty. Devon descends the stairs and lets his eyes follow the trail around to where the hispo hides. Before approaching, he makes a detour into the laundry room, gathering up a couple of towels. Armed with terrycloth, he then approaches the nearwolf, cautious but not really afraid.
Starcaller isn't very confrontational to the towel-armed Walker at all. Indeed, his demeanor is a 'please no more with the hurting' sort of thing than anything else. But neither is he very welcoming, either. At least none of those bullets broke anything necessary. Somehow.
Not long after, the front door opens, and the Glass Walker galliard bursts through. He scans the lobby, but doesn't stop, heading straight across for the stairwell door, and yanks it open, too, before he finds the ahroun and theurge. Unlike Devon, Kavi is full of intensity and barely contained rage.
"Mind ex—" Interrupted by the door being thrown open, Devon looks at Kavi. His brows raise slightly and there's a subtle shift in his posture. Submissive, but with the intent to shift and intervene should the Adren decide to go off with claws and teeth.
Starcaller doesn't even twitch as Kavi storms in as well, instead just closing his eyes and sighing somewhat wetly. Ugh.
"Mouse?" Kavi asks of the ahroun, more demand than question, that intensity from his posture heard in his voice as well.
"Upstairs," Devon replies. "She's fine. Pissed, but fine." He glances toward the Gnawer then turns back to Kavi.
Starcaller lies there and bleeds.
Kavi is nearly to the first landing before he stops, and he takes the steps back down much more slowly, deliberately. "Furious," he says to Devon, and then he, too, looks at the Bone Gnawer.
"To put it nicely." Devon turns back to the hispo and walks closer. The towels are held up and his head tips toward one of the more noticeable bleeding spots. "You're making a mess. Mind some patches so you don't totally ruin the carpet?"
~Would stop if I could,~ is the pained response, but the Starcaller opens his eyes again and looks up at Devon, moving as little as possible. ~I would appreciate any help you could give, though.~
The galliard's gaze travels over what can be seen of the Bone Gnawer's injuries. As he studies them, his lip curls from his teeth. He turns the snarl on Devon. "Stand away from him!" Then Kavi takes a step toward the pair and he glances to the ahroun while thrusting a hand out to point at the lupus. "What did he do?"
Devon looks back at Kavi, unsure though he doesn't move away. He doesn't move further either. "Flint babbled something about him appearing. On the fifth floor. I heard gunshots up there, Mouse attacking him." He looks at Starcaller as though expecting the Gnawer to fill in the details.
Starcaller's ears, already at half-mast from pain, flatten further, ~I didn't know coming to say hello was going to get me shot.~ His tone isn't defensive or accusatory. More like bewildered.
The galliard's lip curls again, and the anger flares in his eyes. "Respect the Territory of Another!" he says, not shouting but with a quiet intensity. He looks to Devon and points toward the stairs. "Step back."
There's a touch of hesitation before Devon complies, hands pushing into his pockets. The towels are tucked under his arm in the process.
Starcaller just sighs and closes his eyes again.
"Even the cubs are taught that," Kavi says, the anger still present, but somewhat less intense. "Even they know to respect territory." He pulls in a breath, and turns toward the stairs, looking again to Devon as he does. "He gets nothing from us until Mouse says. Nothing."
Devon nods silently, taking another step until he's nearest the door.
****
Flint has managed to mop up about half of the blood in the upstairs hallway, but right now the bloodied towels rest on the floor at his feet, and the cub's leaning against the wall with the half-stub of a cigarette in one hand, trying to calm himself down from the edge of panic once again. Which is harder when there's no one else in the hallway.
Mouse's door is shut, but the strains of Beethoven— it's Beethoven's ninth again— are quite audible, even down the hall. She's got the music turned up far louder than she usually does.
The door from the stairwell opens, and Kavi steps through. He pauses, just in the doorway, and takes a moment to look at the cub and the remains of the mess. The tension is still high in the galliard, and he glances once behind him before letting the door close in his wake.
Flint looks up from resting his head against his arm, a very, very silent nod given to Kavi. Other than that, though, the cub doesn't move.
A couple seconds pass before the door opens again, this time admitting Devon. He stops in the doorway, a glance going from Kavi to the remaining mess in the hall. The Ahroun doesn't try to move past the Galliard into the hall, though, instead taking half a step back to wait and half close the door again.
Kavi spends a moment more studying the cub, gaze taking in that stub of a cigarette. "You're okay?" he asks, his voice controlled and even, despite the obvious unevenness in his expression. He's already several feet away from the door when it opens again, and he glances behind to the ahroun, though doesn't speak again.
It's hard to tell, and the boy's expression betrays that he's not really sure he knows, yet, as he looks down at his feet. Doesn't even acknowledge Devon's presence at first, except perhaps with a twitch of lowered gaze. He pulls in another deep breath, then looks back to Kavi. "Kinda? Yeah."
Devon pulls the door open again and steps into the hallway. A hand holds the door from closing loudly, and once the quiet click announces that it's latched, the Ahroun moves down the hallway. He doesn't look at Flint, nor chases after Kavi. He goes straight for the mess still left on the floor with his pair of towels, going to his knees to pick up where the cub left off on cleaning.
Kavi nods to Flint, and some of the anger seems to fade as his brow creases. "Okay," he adds, verbally, and glances again to Devon before moving on toward Mouse's door. The knock is light, but enough to be audible through the music, and the pattern is typical of the galliard.
There's no immediate response, though Kavi may hear the sound of bedsprings.
Flint seems to settle against the wall a moment, putting the cigarette back to his lips with fingers that still pinch it way too tightly. And the cub's shoulders still shake, but he did say he was okay. A moment longer passes like this before he begins to gather the bloodied towels and rags that he'd left at his feet into a plastic bag that he'd gotten for the purpose.
Devon mops up spatters of blood and water off the floor, dragging the bucket closer to himself to wring out the towels. His eyes stay on the task, whatever words or thoughts remain inside.
Kavi doesn't knock again, but instead waits. He turns a little, to where he can watch the younger Garou as they clean.
Eventually, the door clicks as the lock releases, but Mouse still doesn't open the door, and the music—which has now swapped over to something much more modern, but still instrumental, continues.
Flint works to clean for a little, before the shakiness and half-panic returns, and this time, the cub crouches against the wall, pulling his breathing back to steady and then not moving.
"Get ahold of yourself," Devon mutters. He continues to scrub, doesn't look at the cub, but his words are unmistakably for Flint. "Seriously. Shit happens, you can't just break down and have a panic attack any time it does. It's not useful."
Kavi waits for a moment more, and is just reaching for the knob when he turns to Devon with a frown. "Leave him alone. Or be helpful. Think about what you say, and how it will be heard." Hand on the knob, he still hesitates a moment more before he begins to turn.
The cub practically snaps, still crouched. "F'k off," he mutters in Devon's direction, falling silent as Kavi speaks. Flint angles to turn away from Devon entirely.
No protest is uttered from inside the apartment at Kavi's doorknob turning.
Devon's hand tightens around the towel he holds, not from Kavi's words but from the cub's response. He looks at Flint for a long moment, tension rising from his hand to his arm, into his posture. He looks down the hall to Kavi and Mouse's apartment then back to the cub. "Fine." The word is dropped heavily as he stands and turns for the stairwell.
Kavi waits just another second, and then turns the knob the rest of the way and opens the door a foot or so. "Mouse-rhya?"
Flint turns to further ignore Devon as Devon leaves, taking a few steps to pick up one of the towels and dip it in the bucket, crouching against the wall and beginning to clean the last remaining area of mess, where blood is spattered against the wall as well as the floor.
Devon pauses at the door, hand grasping the knob with a grip that, in another form, would chance to crush it. "Y'know what," he says, more to himself than anyone. He turns and looks at Flint. "What gives you the right to tell me to fuck off, cub?"
Kavi stops and turns, the anger rising in him as obviously as in the others. "Stop!" he says, with that cool, quiet intensity. "Enough. Disrespect is disrespect. It does not matter from whom. Separate. Spend time apart. But do not speak again until you have calmed."
The words from the older galliard in fact still the cub from something that would be spoken more quickly in anger, and the remaining bloodied towels are shoved into the plastic bag, one more taken to give a final rinse of the floor and wall, as Flint then moves further away from Devon, a few steps towards Kavi, still crouched and leaning against the wall, though panic has since been replaced by anger that is harder to rein in.
"What," Devon asks, with a half laugh, the sort that comes out with angry disbelief. "So, I'm supposed to just let a cub talk to me like that? You know what happened when I did, or do?" He shakes his head and pulls open the stairwell door. "Fine, I get it. I'm not coming back," he says before closing the door behind him and going down the stairs.
Kavi watches Devon go, watches the door close behind him, and then waits for a beat before he looks to Flint. He watches the cub much the way he watched the space Devon vacated, and though the emotion is still high, his expression softens somewhat. "What he said was wrong. What you said was wrong. You understand that, right? You don't have to like it, but he's right. You are a cub, and he is a cliath, and you do not have the right to talk back to him. This is an important thing to learn. That. That you have to not say things. Think them. Feel them. But keep them inside until you can say it safely."
Flint nods, pulling one hand up to rub at his brow. "Yes," the boy admits, quietly. "I do get it." Slowly, the anger the cub holds in his shoulder drains, replaced more by dismay. "I didn't. I didn't think about it before it got out of my mouth, Kavi-rhya."
Kavi nods. "It's impulse. But you can learn to control it. And you have to. Practice it. Find a way to… to remind yourself, when you start to feel that anger, to close your mouth and submit." He draws in a breath and lets it out slowly, glancing just once back through the partially open door. "I. I'm going to see to Mouse. You should finish cleaning and then find a way to take care of yourself."
"I need to clean the stairwell and all, too," the boy murmurs, pushing himself to his feet. "And yes, Kavi-rhya. I." Flint pauses, looks down at his feet, then back to Kavi once more. "I'm sorry for freaking out and causing all of this in the first place." The last is added, a little more certainly, before the cub begins picking up the cleaning supplies.
Kavi watches for a moment before he nods again. "I. I still don't know what happened, but. But we can talk about it, later. Okay?" He turns, after, and slips through the open door, closing it behind him.