Arrival!

Feb. 4th, 2017 04:45 pm
[personal profile] kiananlogs
Saturday, 4 February 2017
The moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (55% full).

Gathers-Strength can be heard to howl, ~Good afternoon. I am Gathers-Strength of the Silent Striders and would like to introduce myself to a guardian of this Sept.~

After she has howled, Yael resumes her birth form and leans against a tree, some twenty yards in from the highway at the northern edge of the bawn. The Strider adjusts her headscarf as she waits, tucking the stray strands of hair in, but doesn't seem to be in a big hurry. Next to her on the ground is a hiking backpack, probably about half-empty.

It doesn't take long for the Fenrir to come running down the path, eyes looking left and rights to find the source of the howl. Fred spots the person standing next to the tree and redirects his steps over to her, actually the young Get finally slowing down and stopping a few feet from the newcomer. He musters her for a moment before looking at her expectantly.

Yael grins and lifts a hand in greeting, and then nods, straightening. "Good afternoon, I'm guessing you came because you heard my question?" Her voice has a soft, lilting accent when she speaks, the words thought out as she continues with her introduction. "I am Shai-Nefer, otherwise known as Yael Lender. Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials and adren half-moon of the Silent Striders." There's a pause, and then the entire formality drops and the woman just kinda grins a bit. "Hi."

Frederick nods briefly as he listens to the introduction, the young man taking a few steps forward to take a closer look at the woman. "Frederick Fisher. Cliath Forseti of the Get of Fenris. Rite name Delivers the Verdict." He pauses but doesn't really respond with a grin, the young Get remains quite business-y. He finally asks, "I assume you just arrived?"

Yael doesn't move aside from the shifting of her weight from foot to foot, but she does manage to maintain a presence nonetheless. "More or less. I've been walking for a few days and noticed I was somewhere, instead of nowhere. I'm in… Washington, right?" She lets out a breath. "Forgive me, I am from the Sept of the Wheel of P'tah in Morocco and from Qal'at al-Subeiba in Eretz Yisrael, and have been in the states for probably a month, give or take a few days. I hope that I am more than just passing through, but time will tell that more than anything."

Frederick nods slightly again. "This is Washington." He pauses. "At least as far as I know. I'm not really from around here either, just been… transferred here a while ago." Indeed, he still retains a bit of an accent that betrays his roots in Europe. "In the end, you fight where fate puts you." And actually, he does eventually manage to crack a small smile. "Have to say, I haven't heard of your Sept, but I'm not really the expert for this here. You should probably talk to some of those that have been around a bit longer."

Yael lifts a shoulder and shrugs, picking up her backpack and shouldering it. "We have a saying, that the future is where the road takes us…" She purses her lips. "I hope that I will get to do so eventually. In the interim, may I have the free rein of the Bawn until I can more properly meet with the Alpha and the Warder?" That formality from the older philodox is back, now.

Frederick nods slightly. "This is acceptable. I will contact them to let them know that you're here, usually it won't take them long to get you, you know, get the check routine done." He shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong, it's pretty much a formality, it's just that I can't do the clearance myself."

A nod comes in response. "I'll be around, that much is for certain. I've heard there is a presence of the Black Furies in this area?" Yael asks the question after a moment. "I will likely seek them out next, as few of my tribe are in the general area."

The question about the Furies gain a reaction in a raised brow and a rather puzzled "Furies? Yeah, there's a few but why…" he shrugs, "Sure, there's a few. What exactly do you need from them?"

"I have a message to deliver," Yael answers, adjusting the pack onto her shoulders a little more and fixing the scarf on top of it. A moment later, she continues, "Kind of what ends up happening. In any case, it is no big deal just another thing that happens." Her head tilts, and she digs out of one pants pocket a stone with a hole in it, suspended from a string, which is idly played with. "So you've been here a bit, though?" The Strider changes the topic and her focus to the younger philodox, looking him over once again with an almost more critical expression.

Frederick watches the stone as he listens, the Get shrugging slightly, to the question or the answer that probably raised more questions than it answered, and says simply, "Well, yeah. About a year and a few months. Got here shortly after my Rite, my old Sept was well staffed with warriors and here, well, here's where the action is." He eventually actually starts to smirk. "We've had a few good battles in that time, things sure have been interesting and exciting!"

Yael wraps the string around her finger, and unwraps it, clearly a practiced and more subconscious motion. "Up until recently I was in Africa, and while things were exciting there too— sometimes too exciting— I am not up on the times, so tell me?" It is a question, she does leave the option of 'no' open as an answer, but there is a weight to her words as well.

Frederick ponders for a moment, but asking a Get to tell about a fight rarely gets a 'no' as an answer. "Oh, we've had a few great ones. Shortly after I arrived a bunch of assholes with guns wanted to play the old silver bullet game and we showed them that we're better at it. Last one was when we got one of our homes back, a bunch of Dancers moved in while we weren't around and infested the place so we had to play the pest control and smoke 'em out." He grins. "That was by some margin the best so far. Lots of fun and went off without a hitch, they croaked, we got our house back." He pauses. "The cleanup is actually more of a hassle than the fight was. We're a bit short on kinfolk, ya know?" He shakes his head. "You see, this ain't exactly a 'home' Sept, more one where battles happen more often, you don't bring Kinfolk 'round here. That was different back in the old lands, few things dared to raise their head." He smirks. "Guess we just have to keep whacking 'em 'til they learn!"

Yael is an attentive listener, and even a good listener, leaning back against the tree and watching the young Get's enthusiasm. "There are places like that, yes," she eventually responds. "Maybe time will make it a home once again." The words are broody, though, and decidedly less cheerful as the adren stares off into the tree canopy in some thought.

Frederick nods eagerly, "You bet we'll make it! A lot of baddies bit the dust in the past months, we're looking good for a change." He flexes. "So far they've always tried to come back. Personally, I'm happy they do, keeps things interesting." He's happily oblivious to the broody mood of the Adren, instead he folds his arms in front of his chest. "One day they'll learn that this is ours."

"Keeps everyone on their toes, and there is nothing wrong with that," Yael agrees, and tilts her head in a general south direction. "I have to say I'm not the most at home in forests," she admits, "I don't think I had ever seen trees this tall before."

Frederick sits down with his back against the tree. "I have spent a long time outdoors. Part of the training, you could say." He grins as he stretches his legs. "Trees are your friend if you are trying to find shelter in the woods."

Yael eventually lets the stone on the string dangle at one side, somewhat of her attention given to it before she nods again at Frederick, glancing back down at the stone occasionally as she speaks. "I'll get used to it, I'm sure," she says, "but I grew up in deserts. Places where you made shelter from heat more often than from cold."

Seems this the day for new arrivals. Something about February that gives way to travel, one supposes. It is one of the dreariest months on record, which is proven scientific fact. Digressions aside, there's a howl that rings out from deeper into the wilderness portion of the Bawn, clearly articulated and, as it happens, stripped of all niceties, the underlying message all but sprinting straight to the point. ~Brings-Winter's-Bite, Shadow Lords, requesting entry into the Sept.~

Frederick is back on his feet in no time as he hears the howl, the Get casting a quick glance over to Yael as he indicates the direction the howl can be heard from. "Friend of yours? Or maybe came with the same flight?" He starts off into the direction of the howl, not even waiting for an answer, just turning his head briefly to see if the Strider would follow."

Yael tucks the stone into her pocket, chews on her lower lip with a brief glance south, and then heads after the younger philodox. "Nope," she states, succinctly. As they continue, she adds, "I don't take airplanes."

The howl leads to a small clearing in the forest, a safe distance from the highway— far enough that it's probably easier to travel the distance on four legs instead of two.

There is a small satchel laid out next to a tree, the owner of which— a massive grey wolf that looks far more Get than Lord— is carefully inspecting the surroundings, tail and posture giving a sense of confidence that speaks of a slightly higher station than that of a Cliath. Upon hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps, be they of wolves or of humans, she's quick to raise her head and pay attention, ready to turn tail if they turn out to be anything other than what she called for.

She'll wait for them to get into earshot before speaking, her posture not so much taking a subservient tone as it does a respectful one, forward facing ears swiveling to the sides as she makes a brief assessment of both, waiting for them to speak before the more official greeting is made.

Frederick comes running through the forest, the young Get pretty good at dodging bushes and avoiding roots that double as traps in the underbrush until he steps out into the clearing, looking around. He easily spots the wolf, after all it's not like she's trying to hide and redirects his steps over towards her, and a small smile plays around his lips as he approaches her. "A Lord? Hmm. That's gonna be interesting," he chuckles as he slows down, and despite running on just two legs, he doesn't appear to be winded too much. He stops a few feet from the wolf, stating. "You called. I'm here. So introduce yourself."

Despite the occasional difficulty with the terrain, and the backpack on her shoulders, Yael emerges into the clearing a few moments later. She doesn't move over towards the others though, pulling the string from her pocket and letting the stone dangle again. She is watching them, though.

The wolf pauses for a time before rearing up onto her hind legs, the move used to shift smoothly into homid, the ease of the transition suggesting this is her breed form. She affords Frederick a nod of greeting, and says, hands clasped loosely behind her back in a fashion that seems more knee-jerk than nervous, "Sandra Ullrick. Fostern Shadow Lord Philodox, here from Childhood's Dream to request entry to, and eventual membership with the local Sept. My arrival was expected." She cants her head, looking between the two of them, though her attention solidifies on Frederick, given that he's the one that's spoken. "And you?" she asks of him.

Frederick is quite good at mimicking the hand-behind-the-back position, though with him it does look a little bit like he's assuming an 'at ease' stance rather than trying to be cocky. "Frederick Fisher. Cliath Forseti of the Get of Fenris," he states briefly, mustering her. He does take a quick look behind himself to check whether the Strider 'vanished' in the meantime, but his attention seems to be on the Lord instead. "I didn't expect your arrival, so forgive my inquiry as to who is expecting you?"

And in fact, she has. The adren watched the exchange for a moment before lifting a shoulder and walking south in the direction that her stone on a string was pointing, but all without so much as a wave or a goodbye. Or perhaps, she just didn't want to interrupt.

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Kianan Rowan Abrams

July 2017

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