Common values.

[kiananlogs]

Saturday, 11 February 2017
The moon is in the waning Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (99% full).

Although it's still cold, the sun has come out today. Not all of the flagstones of the seating area are in the sun, but the one Yael has claimed is definitely in the sun, and the Strider appears to be basking in what little warmth it brings. She's still wearing the same worn jacket that she's acquired, and an infinity scarf is draped loosely around her shoulders and over her hair.

Brings-the-Pack emerges from the treeline at a casual pace. Pausing almost as an afterthought, he steps purposefully on a twig— *snap!*— to better announce his presence. He takes a moment to survey the caern and any who might be around— and perhaps their emotional state— before venturing any further. He seems quite cognizant of the moon's phase and where he currently is.

Yael sits up just a little bit at the sounds of company, although she's in seemingly no hurry to look as to who it is, and if anything, looks more relaxed than she had earlier in the week. Or maybe it's just the sunlight. Eventually, though, she offers the cat a brief nod, rolling her shoulders and folding her hands in her lap as she re-settles. "Good afternoon," she offers. "How goes things?"

Brings-the-Pack pads closer towards the fire pit, though angles for the opposite side. He seems to like a little distance between himself and the garou, perhaps understandably so. "Well and good. Establishing myself in the territory the sept recently granted to me, and looking at how to best protect and care for the lands and spirits." He assumes, perhaps based upon the Strider's current location, "The sept has granted you guest status? How are you finding this caern in comparison to others you have seen?"

Yael nods once. "I am enjoying getting to sit here, and relax, and have my feet on the ground for a while," she says, with a small smile, and then adds, looking up and over her shoulder, "The tree is very, very big. Every caern is different, and yet in all of them we feel at home and closer to Gaia." She focuses at least some of her attention on the cat-mage, simply observing him for a while. "When you do that, do you feel things? Like the ground, beneath your feet? The scent of the air?"

Brings-the-Pack settles onto his haunches, seated opposite Yael and the flames from the fire pit offering heat to both. "There is decidedly a resonance here. A thrum of power. A connection to something greater and beyond," the mage-cat agrees. "I am somewhat envious. I would like to see another caern, but it took decades to be allowed into this one. I have no illusions about the difficulties and unlikeliness of being admitted to another." A look towards the tree. "It is massive, indeed. And it was not here at all about five years earlier. A place of the Wyld with a caern totem spirit to match." He finally gets around to answering Yael's question. "I imagine it is much the same as when you become the wolf. Though, for better or worse, I lack the instincts that come with this particular form. It took nearly a day to figure out how to stand and walk properly."

Yael purses her lips and considers the answer, and then finally nods, moving so that she's sitting crosslegged in the small sunny patch. "It is… a benefit of traveling, that we are often guests wherever we go," she says. "On the other hand, belonging is a somewhat foreign concept."

There's no sound of approach, just sudden, if quiet, footsteps right outside of the Caern, and conveniently right outside of view, followed by jaunty whistling— though the tune is unfamiliar. A brown-skinned man with an old battered hat and less battered but still worn duster over sensible outdoors-y clothes ambles unhurried out of the trees and down the path into the Caern proper.

"I had always prided myself on being an outsider, though as I grew older, I realized that my being an outsider was in and of itself an act of seeking identity and companionship with other outsiders. I have come to appreciate— and sometimes embrace— people's differences. And companionship, as well." The mage-cat turns his head to regard the approaching, whistling figure. "Good afternoon to you, Mr. Lee."

Yael straightens slightly at the arrival, giving a nod, and not much evidence of increased alertness seeing as the mage-cat seems to know the newcomer. A pause follows, and then she offers a smile, along with her greeting. "Good afternoon. My name is Shai-Nefer. I am Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials and adren half-moon of the Silent Striders, of the Wheel of P'tah and Qal'at al-Subeiba, member of the Ahadi and guest here for the time being."

Thomas tips his hat in such a way as to include both mage and Strider. "Ahadi? Well, you're a damn long way from home. Name's Thomas Lee, Uktena kinfolk, among other things. Suppose you might also hear me referred to as Turtle, but I keep that quieter. How's your stay been?" He continues his ambling course until he finds one of the logs near the fire, where he settles with comfortable ease.

Brings-the-Pack allows for introductions to be made, then adds, "Mr. Lee has been affiliated with the sept for some years now." He leaves it at that.

Yael gives a slight huff at the first comment. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lee," Yael says, and then continues, "I suppose I am," she agrees. "It has been nice. Intriguing and interesting, as it goes." She lifts a hand to gesture to the tree, and the caern around them. "I was just telling the warper that the tree is probably the biggest I have ever seen, and that I am enjoying sitting here at the moment." She grins and then adds, "It is rather cold for my taste though, so I suspect I'll be more in and out than staying here for any length of time."

"Off and on," Thomas replies, in response to Brings-the-Pack. "Bit of a drifter myself, as it happens." He looks toward the tree in question. "You keep a close eye on it too, and it'll give you more surprises. Likes to look a little different when you least expect. That's her way."

Brings-the-Pack seems content to eye the tree a little bit longer while the two strangers continue speaking.

Yael twists a little as she sits, so that she can crane her head and look at the tree. It has the unfortunate effect of her scarf falling to her shoulders, and a moment later and perhaps slightly flustered, the adren busies herself readjusting it rather than speaking, with a glance as she does so first at the kin, and then at the mage-cat, and ducks a bit of a nod. "It is somewhat of a human trapping, but I find I'm rather attached to it these days." Another shrug follows.

Thomas doesn't seem to notice, or at the least, he shows no sign of noticing, at least until Yael draws attention to it. "No need to apologize," he says easily. "I'm wearing a hat what might very well be older'n you are. We all got our attachments. Part've what makes us who we are."

Brings-the-Pack lowers his head to glance down at his forelegs. "Naked save for fur." He looks back up. "Awkward at first, but surprisingly liberating once you get used to it."

There's a brief smile and a suppressed giggle, and after Yael finishes adjusting her scarf— this time pulling out a pin from one pocket and pinning it into place— she takes a moment to look first at Thomas' hat, and then at Thomas, perhaps reevaluating the kin for a moment. And then her dignity kicks in and her expression returns to the more carefully schooled neutral and the curiosity is at least hidden. "Certainly less to worry about," she says. "Although I suspect I am personally warmer as I am now."

Thomas gives her an easy grin in return; he doesn't seem to mind the scrutiny. "It's just a matter've your body getting used to it. 'Course, the process ain't fun."

Yael nods slightly. "I'm sure," she says, "but I am rather grateful for this jacket anyway." She shakes her head. "There are a few Gifts that I have heard of as well, that allow for better dealing with the—" Pause, and she comes up with it in Hebrew before she repeats it in English, "climate, but I have never had a chance to learn them."

"'Fraid I can't help with that," Thomas replies. "Don't know any've 'em. You might ask around, I suppose."

Yael lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "It is no big deal either way," she says. "I think there are other things I would like to learn the Gifts of when I have the chance, like the one of tongues, before something so much as for the weather." And then the Strider's attention returns to studying Thomas' hat once again, a slight furrow of one brow. "I probably don't want to know just how much older than me that hat is, do I?" she says, although the tone of her voice bears amusement rather than any ill-will.

"Nah," Thomas replies, although there's still a hint of a grin about his mouth. "Interested in languages then? There're a few folk around here that seem to know it, though if'n you don't have any luck with them, and you're around in a bit, could be I could teach you. Looking to learn something myself at the moment."

Yael nods. "I'm mostly decent at learning languages the normal way," she says, "speak enough of them as it is. Kind of had to where I was living, you know?" she grins. "But sometimes that Gift would come in very useful." Her lips purse for a moment, and she shifts— two feet to the left where her sunny spot has moved to— drawing her knees up so that she can lean her elbows on them and look over at Thomas, then continues. "I've learned a fair few things over the years."

Thomas nods slightly. "I prefer some experience the hard way when I'm teaching it. Ain't necessary, of course, but means you've got respect'n appreciation for what you're taking a shortcut too. Too many folk like to use it to bypass all've that, like they ain't got to learn anything else about a person if'n they can talk with 'em."

Yael nods to what Thomas says, "Shortcuts are often appealing regardless," she notes, and although her attention was on Thomas, there's a renewed sense of looking around the Caern and although she's clearly trying to maintain her composure, her jaw drops a tiny little bit, looking between the three points in the Caern, and she finally closes her mouth again. "Well then," she says to nothing in particular, "I probably should have seen that coming." What in particular she's speaking about isn't clarified.

Brings-the-Pack finally chimes in, "There are nuances within— and beyond— the words being spoken or written, regardless of the language." He looks towards the Strider as she uses her gift, as if her use of magick might as well have been her saying something.

Thomas tips his head to the side at Yael's comment, but nods as Brings-the-Pack speaks up. "Exactly. And no matter how good you are at saying the words, if'n you don't grasp what's beyond 'em, it's not going to help you as much in communicating as you might think."

Yael lifts one hand from her knees to push at her forehead, looking around the caern one more time even though she's let go of the gift already. "It is better to make mistakes honestly," she eventually says, "rather than hide one's mistakes behind assumptions and pride. It is also much more difficult to make mistakes honestly."

Apparently true to her words, she sets her head back on her hands and the curiosity is evident again as she glances to Thomas, "So rather than sit here and ponder every possibility, I'll simply ask. You mentioned that you tend to keep the bit where you're referred to as Turtle a bit quieter, but I'm curious as t' what precisely that means and such. Especially when it comes to that you know the Gift for languages, which means there's something that it means." She grins. "And 'nosy half-moon' is a perfectly fine answer," Yael adds with a bit of a giggle.

Brings-the-Pack stays silent, but looks to Mr. Lee to see if he provides an answer or a riddle.

Thomas's grin returns in full— though it never really left his eyes— and he remains lounging on the log seat for a little while longer in silence before he replies. "You know the funniest thing is how few folk actually ask. They just let it go past, or don't notice. So alright. Thomas Lee's the name I use around hereabouts, but it's hardly my first one. Turtle's a lot closer. And I'm kin to the Uktena, that's full true, but I'm also a Fox." The capital letter is audible. "So I know a few things more'n most kinfolk would."

Yael blinks a few times, and then looks at Thomas. "Pardon me if this is rude to ask," she states, "but I always…" There's a moment of pause and she continues, "It sounds absurd now that I am stating it aloud, but I thought all Foxes had multiple tails? At least, from every story I've heard." She grins. "And well, names are funny things, with the amount of significance we put on them. Less formally most of the time I go by Yael, or YL, when there's no business to be had or done." The last bit seems to be addressed to both Thomas and Brings-the-Pack.

"It's a somewhat eclectic sept," Brings-the-Pack adds, in the event that were not already evident. "There's one of Raven's children here, too. She's a bit more of an open book than the pair of us," he concludes, including himself in with Thomas.

Thomas chuckles quietly. "Not all," he replies to Yael. "We earn our tails as we go, but it's up to us whether or not we show 'em. I don't usually go in for formalities, myself, and it ain't like I get a lot of opportunity for it in any case."

"That makes more sense," Yael says, grinning a bit more. "Stories do have this tendency to exaggerate and not always in the best way, but I guess it was the thing that stuck." She purses her lips and folds her hands on her knees, and then asks, "Earn? So do the tails serve as some sort of visible rank structure when you're amongst other Foxes?"

Brings-the-Pack stays silent, listening to the answers the Kitsune provides to the Garou.

Thomas makes a so-so gesture with one hand. "Yes'n no. Like I said, we can choose to display 'em, but if'n there's someone claiming to be a higher rank than they are, they obviously can't show more tails'n they've got. But we don't interact like you folk do. No big Moots'r meetings. Not a lot've need for dominance or hierarchy. And there're few've us that the real high ranking ones are often known about anyhow, if only by reputation. Renown though, that ain't really a thing in the same way. No challenges."

Yael nods as she listens to the answer, clearly intrigued by all of this, and then furrows her brows and repeats, "No challenges?" She continues, "That's almost a new one for me, although I've spent more of my life among the Ahadi and other shifters and fewer Garou, than among the Nation if I were to take the time involved in each. How do you settle disputes then?" The question is asked and then the philodox settles back into silence.

Brings-the-Pack interjects with what might seem, to the shifters gathered, to be a stupid question. "What or who are the Ahadi?"

"How does anyone?" Thomas asks in reply. "Foxes don't have the instinctual pack mentality that Wolves do. And like I said, we don't often gather together in numbers, 'specially not large numbers. We usually go on our own, or in pairs. Four's about the largest you'll find if'n it ain't a Hengeyokai Court, and even then it's rare." He looks to Brings-the-Pack and clearly starts to answer, then tips his head toward Yael. "Sorry, you'd be best to explain."

Yael interlocks her fingers and scoots a few more inches, definitely following the sunny spot before nodding and continuing. There's a nod. "I should probably do the precursor first," she says, and then continues, "So most Garou are within the Nation— the alliance of the tribes and general expectation that the members of the tribes share the same values, the same goals. And there are Garou who for one reason or another choose to live outside of that structure, however long they manage it." She watches, and then continues, "But there aren't precisely very many Garou in Africa, and there are a large number more of the other shifters. The Ajaba, some of the tribes of the Bastet, the Mokole. The Simba pretty much nearly exterminated the Ajaba, until one of them brought everyone together to overthrow him, and so for the past twenty or so years there has been an alliance of different shifters all working together, the Ahadi. Any shifter in Africa can join the Ahadi if they obey the rules and work towards the common goals, but not all do."

"Hyenas, Cats, Dragons," Thomas provides for Brings-the-Pack. "The Simba are Lions, and generally huge bastards, though some've 'em are trying to change."

The feline's eyebrows raise slightly. "I was unaware that there were hyena-shifters. Or that the various shifters banded together like that in Africa. Interesting," he muses out loud. "And sensible. Not to sound uncouth, but I know that it is forbidden for Garou to breed with Garou. What happens if an Ajaba breeds with a Dragon?" His tone and hesitance seem to indicate he suspects this might be something of a silly question, yet one that his curiosity prompted nonetheless.

Yael furrows her brows and lifts her shoulders, and towards Thomas, "I met one or two who didn't strike me as genocidal murderers with a flair for ethnic cleansing, but…" The Strider shakes her head and then says, "It's not that sort of 'alliance'," she picks up her hands to make air quotes around the words. "But the child would breed true to one of the two, or possibly not and simply be kinfolk to the Ajaba and the Mokole, or not survive at all. So far as I know nobody has ever tried it." Apparently she thinks the question is silly too. "One of the tenets of the alliance is that the organisational styles of each member race remains intact. And I would venture to say that reproduction would fall into that."

Thomas's grin resurfaces, just for a moment, but he says nothing.

The cougar maintains a straight face through all this. "I realize it was an awkward question, but I was genuinely curious. I can be a little on the nosy side too, but I definitely understand boundaries— and respect them if they are defined for me." He further presses, "So the Ahadi centralize themselves around caerns as well, defending them as a community where there is an absence or minimal numbers of garou?"

Yael furrows her brows and shakes her head. "Not exactly," she says. "There are some caerns, and some other sacred places, and a lot that were destroyed either in long ago or even in more recent history before the Ahadi existed." She furrows her brows a little bit more, and then continues, "I mean, you don't get crocodiles mating with hyenas in the wild," and then back on track, "More like crocodiles eating any hyena unlucky enough to find themselves on the riverbank at the wrong time. But the caerns and the sacred places are open to use by other shifters, and there is cooperation between the shifters even though we have our differences and history."

"All of the Bête value Caerns," Thomas adds again. "We see them'n much the same way, and they've got the same benefits. Not all've us hold Caerns ourselves, either through preference or having lost them to the Garou."

"A crocodile would not breed with a hyena, but when the crocodile is half human and the hyena is half human, there does seem to be some commonality there. But if it was a silly, ignorant question then it was a silly, ignorant question." The cougar-mage then speculates, "So if I were ever in Africa, and perhaps escorted by shifters who might vouch for me, there might be a remote possibility of seeing another caern? Provided, of course, that I not inquire about their mating practices."

From the reaction that the Strider offers, this is also apparently a silly question, although Yael doesn't display any hostility, or change her posture, or in fact move other than to say, "No."

"Was a time when that was a lot more common here," Thomas says. "Mages'n Garou together. Certain ones, in any case, there were certainly conflicts between the two, and between each other."

"Understandably so," Brings-the-Pack adds to Thomas's words. "Competition for access to places of power. Different cultures. And the garou— not all of them, but some— can be spectacularly volatile. One of the first things I was taught, when I was being instructed on the other supernatural entities out there, was to stay away from the Garou." He remarks, "I clearly failed to absorb that particular lesson."

Yael lets out a breath, and continues, "Especially many of the Bête in Africa are wary with the few places of power they have left, from years of having lost them to the Garou, to the Simba, to the Wyrm. And so regardless of who might vouch for someone else the only thing that works there is time, and patience, and continually proving yourself, much as you have done here." She offers a faint smile.

Thomas rubs his bristly jaw. "You might have a better chance with the Ahadi than the Hengeyokai," he notes. "They're younger, haven't had thousands've years to become stuck on what 'us' and 'them' mean."

Brings-the-Pack inquires, looking from Thomas first, "What were you first told of mages and the garou?" and then Yael. "And what were you told of mages and the kitsune?"

"This seems like two questions," Yael notes. "So I will start with one of them." She sets her chin on her hands for a moment and then says, "I was in France I think when I heard of the Kitsune and their tricks," there is a grin that follows this, "from one of my elders who had recently returned from China. But that what they care about they care about very deeply, and that they do not go berserk from their Rage like we can."

Thomas rests his elbows on his knees as he replies. "My family were kinfolk. The Wolves were more open with them at the time. I heard good things about some tribes, and quite a lot've terrible things about others. As for mages…" He pauses, looking thoughtful. "Pejula wacasa, those were the ones that were helpful, and generally friendly, provided you didn't anger 'em. As for the others, they had a few names, but none've 'em you'd find complimentary."

Brings-the-Pack hmms at the information, then redirects his attention back to the Strider. "Yael. If I may call you that? You knew of me before we met. I'm curious as to what you were told about me, assuming that you heard of me from a member of the sept."

Yael lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "I was told that you're here, and that you have this ridiculous," which seems to be her word, because there is a departure in tone for a minute, "cat-disguise, and that you had been granted territory on the Bawn." She turns her head and looks up, and then continues, "As for what I was told in general, I was told of name-breakers who in times past had stolen and violated Caerns of my people, who had worked with our enemies, of world-breaking powers that some mages have. Most of it certainly wasn't 'friendly', and the general idea was someone or something to exercise all due caution around."

Thomas threads his fingers together. "The second time I was taught 'bout mages," he says, still sounding rather thoughtful, "It was Name Breakers and lightning men. They didn't make much of a distinction between either, which was interesting, considering the tone they took about Wolves. Eastern Wolves, those who had joined the Hengeyokai, were dangerous but often worth knowing. Western Bête of any type were terrible though, 'specially Western Wolves. To be avoided at best, or sent packing if that wasn't possible."

Brings-the-Pack's eyebrows go up sharply at Yael's 'ridiculous' comment. He clearly hadn't been expecting that assessment. It might have even taken a smidgeon of the wind out of his sails. Instead of addressing it, he redirects the topic once Thomas has said his piece. "I was told the garou were violent, untrustworthy, irrational, and ignorant. But as I got to know some of them, without them knowing what I was in return, I learned that what I was told was largely incorrect. They certainly have a great capacity to do violence, but many work to avoid it if possible when humans and animals are involved. Most have a definite sense of honor, though it may differ from human expectations at times. Sometimes they are irrational, but who among us never is? And for the most part, they do not seem to relish ignorance anywhere near as much as portions of humanity do. We all have our bad examples, just as we have our good examples. I suppose it really comes down to deciding whether or not we have the luxury of time and safety to expend upon getting to better know individuals instead of groups."

If the Strider has a reaction to watching the cat-mage manage to do the 'eyebrows go up' expression, it is well hidden underneath the more neutral expression. Instead, she listens and nods, and then says, "It reminds me of the thing that I often heard when I was younger and asked questions," she finally offers. "I understand it better now, where we tell younger members of our tribe if they ask about something, for the most part, that they should go and find it and find out for themselves, however that may be."

"Weren't always quite that way," Thomas says, as he glances toward Brings-the-Pack. "And the Wolves here're decidedly different, by and large, than a lot've less open places. The Wyrm's strength has at least forced a number've us to be a bit more pragmatic."

Brings-the-Pack nods first to Yael and then the Thomas. To the latter he admits, "I suspect, had I observed a different sept in a different location, I might have come to a very different conclusion. It is perhaps very fortuitous for myself— and perhaps the sept— that fate saw fit for me to dwell here instead of elsewhere."

Yael nods once, and says, "Is a bit different than most of the other places I've been through," she says. "And not just for there being more tribes in one place at one time than other septs." She grins. "It's at least one of the reasons I have been planning on somewhat staying around."

Thomas's response is a smile, and little more.

Brings-the-Pack inquires of Yael, "A relatively safe place to learn and share knowledge?"

"Amongst other things," Yael says, and nods once. "It is a level of cooperation and of diversity I am not used to seeing inside of the Nation," she continues.

"A little openness invites more," Thomas says, in a voice that indicates he's suggesting the idea. "That can be a good thing or a bad thing, but Wolves've got a long way to go before it becomes dangerous, so long's they're avoiding the obvious trouble."

Brings-the-Pack turns his head to regard his right shoulder, as if debating for a moment whether or not he ought to chew an itch, but then he looks up again. "I think opening the caern to the other shifters was a good move on the sept's part. A riskier one allowing me in, obviously. But desperate times call for desperate measures— and unusual alliances."

Yael nods and gets up, picking up a log to add it to the fire before sitting back down, although the little patch of sunlight she was sitting in has since disappeared and she hugs the jacket a little bit closer around her shoulders. "All things in life have risk," she points out.

"Unusual alliances ain't nothing new to me," Thomas says, again with a faint grin playing about his mouth.

Brings-the-Pack cocks his head slightly at the kitsune's statement, curiosity overcoming the cat. "What would you say your most unusual alliance was?"

Yael grins again. "Nor really that new to me," she says, "although there are some lengths which present a line I will not cross. Some things which are unnatural in the extreme, corrupted, which can be neither saved nor worked with."

Thomas taps his chin. "There're these folk in the East, tend to be called vampires, but they're entirely different creatures from the ones you'd be thinking of. Kuei-jin. Treacherous'd be a kind term for 'em. Lot've the Courts there, the Septs, have agreements with 'em, when they aren't trying to wipe each other out. Sometimes they help each other against nastier things."

Brings-the-Pack recoils and grimaces slightly at the mention of vampires. "I have yet to have a positive experience with a vampire. Although, in my younger days, I did find some measure of amusement in toying with them without them realizing they were being toyed with. It was fun to disrupt their hunting when they attempted it in places I used to frequent."

The Silent Strider actually outright snarls slightly at the mention of agreements with vampires, under her breath, although that's the only display of anger. But Yael clearly isn't so thrilled with the idea. "They're all unnatural," she reiterates firmly. "Vampires are unnatural. They're dead and the dead should stay that way, and working with them is just wrong."

"And that's just regular vampires," Thomas says in response to Yael. "Kuei-jin are worse. Lot've legends about them in the East, none flattering, specially their origins. You've got the Wars of Rage? Hengeyokai got the War of Shame, and all the stories agree the Kuei-jin set those off on purpose. So, the question is, how come Hengeyokai will sometimes work with 'em?"

Brings-the-Pack hazards a guess. "Exceptions to the rule on both sides occasionally happen?"

Yael takes a deep breath, and then another, and listens, calmer from the
visible outburst of rage. "Because there are, in fact, worse things." There's clearly something that Yael isn't saying or mentioning, but she doesn't seem to be inclined to, either.

"You're both right," Thomas says, "But that ain't quite the whole of it. Pragmatism. Politics… hell of a lot of politics. But if'n you can get one enemy to fight another, then both your enemies're gonna get bloodied over it, and, most importantly, they ain't focusing on you."

Brings-the-Pack pushes to all fours with a mild grunt from having sat for so long in one spot. The mage stretches while commenting to the Kitsune and the Werewolf, "Strange times; strange bedfellows." He turns, as if to leave, and says, "I need to meet with some spirits on my territory this evening. It was a pleasure speaking with you both."

Yael nods to the mage-cat, and lifts a hand in parting. "I should be going as well, judging by the time, although I enjoyed the afternoon." She gets to her feet and stretches, and then a moment later shifts to lupus, giving a brief shake of her fur and lupine grin towards Thomas.

Thomas tips his hat to both, and remains sitting at the fire. As they go, he starts whistling that tune again.

Brings-the-Pack disappears into the woods, angling for the Mountain Bowl.