Long distances.
Mar. 16th, 2017 12:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiananlogsThursday, 16 March 2017
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (75% full).
Xenia walks down the stairs, scratching her neck. She looks like she's just come out of the shower, and her T-shirt is still wet. Either she washed it in the sink while she showered, or she actually showered while wearing it. Which seems to somehow defeat the purpose. Either way, she's wearing wet clothes and doesn't seem to be at all bothered by this. She's got her boots off, so at least she didn't bathe wearing those as well, but she's carrying them in her right hand. She's whistling, and she can certainly carry a tune. Right now, she's in the opening lead-in to Metallica's "Battery", should you be familiar with it. The point is, she doesn't seem to realize that there's someone else here…
Not as difficult as it might seem. Yael has tucked herself into a corner of the main room and is sitting on the floor, staring off into space and possibly thinking. The Strider's claimed one of the burner phones from the bucket and is staring at it like staring at it will make it ring, with more than a hint of frustration evident in her posture, but that melts away as she rises to stand at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The phone is tucked into her pocket, and by the time the other reaches the bottom the Strider is adjusting her headscarf around her shoulders and tucking a few stray strands back underneath. "Good afternoon," she offers, with a slightly incredulous raised-brows expression at the wet clothes.
Xenia turns her head. Her missing eye does leave an obvious and significant blind spot… ahem… yes, well, puns and all that… and she simply hadn't seen Yael there. While she's new in St. Claire, she does know enough by now that she's aware that she's likely to run into other werewolves in this place. When she sees her, she nods politely. "Good afternoon to you as well," she says. "I hope I am not intruding. I stay in the garage, but I felt like a hot shower."
Her voice is accented, but not as much as one might expect from a foreigner. She's either got a good ear for languages, or she's spent some time in English-speaking countries, but it is clear it is not her first language.
"It is a common house. If I wanted solitude I would go elsewhere, it is fine," Yael responds. Her voice is also accented, the soft lilting tone of someone whose origin is somewhere in the Levant, and she ducks a nod. "I am Shai-Nefer. I am Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials, adren and halfmoon of the Silent Striders. Most people just call me Yael, though." The introduction is short, and rather more informal than it could be. "I was just about to get lunch, although I'm afraid it is just leftover pizza. If you're staying in the garage I take it that you have already made all of the necessary introductions?" Which doesn't stop the newcomer from being looked at with a critical once-over.
Xenia raises the eyebrow over her remaining eye and nods, like she is remembering something. "Sandra mentioned you," she says. "I am pleased to meet you, Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials. I am Xenia Larsen, Blood-in-Eye, seer and crescent moon of the Get of Fenris, friend of Raven, traveler of great distances on his bidding and… well, since you ask, I ate the second turkey I caught a couple of days ago, earlier. I've met Thane and Brom. Well, Brom first, then Thane, then Sandra, who, as I mentioned, spoke of you," she explains, then quickly adds. "Kindly, may I add. She said you'd probably understand me better than most, in fact. I know Brom thought I'm either an imbecile, insane or a waste of space, at least. Or all three. Thane was courteous and dignified. Sandra was confusing. Plus I got hungry. So… well, we went hunting. I knew where to find some wild turkeys. They were very tasty… and I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I'm not good at this kind of thing."
The look on her face is one of self-recrimination almost immediately. She digs her fingernails into the palms of her hands and seems to be internally berating herself, and she's doing a downright awful job of hiding it…
Yael's snort at Brom's opinion hardly matches the rest of Yael's more dignified composure. Or perhaps she just doesn't think very highly of him. She moves over towards Xenia and nods. "C'mon, Xenia Larsen Blood-in-Eye," she offers. "I am pleased to meet you as well." The statement is genuine, it would sound. "There's still plenty of pizza." It seems to be the philodox's attempt at a gentle redirection of the other's attention. "And I am intrigued by the great distances that you mention."
There is no question that the redirection is greatly appreciated. Xenia has no filter… whatever she thinks or feels is right there, readily visible to anyone around her, and coming to St. Claire has, so far, been a bit of an ordeal for her. Mostly because she's suddenly had to interact with people again. The disarming friendliness Yael presents certainly helps her relax a little and her shoulders slump. "Thank you. I'd… if…" she tries, then nods after thinking for a moment. "Raven would not mind that. I haven't bought the pizza, so it'd be okay for me to have a piece. I haven't had pizza in years, actually. Cold or otherwise."
She manages a smile. It's clearly not a facial expression she makes much use of, but it does come across as absolutely earnest. "I walked here. From Northern Denmark. That's what Brom thought made me a moron, but Raven told me to do so. Sure, I stowed away on a ship to England and picked pennies off the road for a few years to save up for a cheap plane ticket to New York, but I walked all the way from there to here. He said I should just get it over with and join the Striders or the Gnawers."
Yael tilts her head towards the kitchen and then nods, pulling the box of pizza out of the fridge and setting it on the table that has been assembled in the middle there, and opening it. It's about half of a half cheese, half meat pizza, and Yael takes one of the slices from the cheese side and in fact begins to eat it cold. "I took a few moon bridges to shorten the distance," the adren offers, "but more or less walked here from Israel, with a few bus rides." She shakes her head. "Brom is a moron," she adds. "And a rude one at that. It does not seem to me that listening to a calling and direction from Raven should make you so at odds with your tribe."
Xenia shrugs and takes one of the slices from the meat-side. She takes a bite and seems to find the experience rather humorous for some reason. "I'm going to regret this later," she muses, but takes another bite anyway. "And you wouldn't think so, I guess. But I didn't fit in with my own tribe, any more than I've ever really fitted in with anyone else. Except the spirits, that is. They make sense to me. People don't. I don't understand most of the tribes. I do get the Get, which sounds like a bad joke already, but I hope you know what I mean. I'm proud of my tribe. But I learned things while walking all that way. Things I'm trying very hard to take to heart. When I left Denmark, I had only met a few people outside my own tribe. One of your tribe, who didn't stay long in the sept and frankly I don't blame him, and a couple of Shadow Lords. Those were it, really. Then… then my Rite of Passage happened and everything changed, and before I knew it, I was trying to find the Hall of Mist, on Raven's bidding. You don't walk that far without learning. Maybe Brom should try it sometime… instead of placing his rank arse on the leather seat of a gas-guzzler for once."
She does have some fire in her, but she's incredibly awkward around people. There's a lot of wyld in her, for certain.
Yael offers another smile, and the composure that she's managed slips such that she shows her amusement at the younger woman's last comment, badly stifling a snicker. "I am of the opinion that most Garou and most people even in general should try it sometime," she says, and then eventually shakes her head. "My tribe," she notes, "very in-fre-quen-tly," although Yael is certain of the word, there is some hesitation in how to say it and she simply slows down for a moment, "stay in one place for any length of time. I've been here almost a month in total, not counting some time that I spent in surrounding states and going up to Canada. It's an interesting experience, and an interesting sept with more tribes in one place than I have seen anywhere and any time in my life except maybe the time I went to a grand moot."
Xenia seems to relax a little with a piece of cold pizza in her. She takes another bite and, yet again, seems to find it hilariously funny for some reason. "It's a war out there," she says, using an expression she often returns to, and her voice grows contemplative. "I've seen it. Walked through it. Fought my battles, with no witnesses and no way out if I failed. And you know the lesson I learned from it all? That Raven is right. As long as I trust him, he will provide for me. I own nothing except what I wear. I'd own less if I could. Wolves have the better way, over human beings."
She looks at the pizza, now half gone, in left hand. The right goes up to scratch at the leather-strap around her face, where it covers her missing eye. For a moment, the mirth seeps out of her and her voice grows distant, like she's recounting something playing out in front of her eyes, which only she can see.
"Flashes of steel and silver, grey fur seeped through with crimson, hate, anger, exaltation. The long nights of winter are so long and so dark now, that the nation thinks there is no dawn to be found anymore. The light of the hearth is dimmed…" she says, her voice growing raspy, creaky, almost like that of a raven screeching shattered words. The fingers of her right hand continue up to her scalp where she picks at a fresh wound. It doesn't start to gush, but it does bleed a little, the blood seeping down over her face. A long, red tendril runs down the ridge of her nose. Two strands of it drift through her left eyebrow and into her eye…
So that is where her deed name comes from…
She doesn't seem to realize there is a world around her by now. Her voice stays as it was, as she speaks up again. "The Nation has forgotten that there is kindling under the lean-to, if they have the courage to leave the long-house and seek it out. It is cold and dark outside, and hideous things hides in that darkness, but the walls of the long-house will not keep them out, if the hearth dies. The Nation has lost sight of victory. They fight like fools, trying to stave off defeat for one more night, but the hearth is all but cold and the embers are flickering out, one by one. Take the kindling, child, and stoke the fire. Remind the Nation that it can fight to win."
The Strider, perhaps about to say something in response to the beginning, closes her mouth again at the change in tone of voice. Instead, Yael simply listens, although she does move to lean on the counter, brow furrowing, and then furrowing some more as the theurge continues to talk.
"The Nation has many flaws," is what she finally says, although her voice is back to the carefully professional tone that betrays very little of her true feelings. "Some more than I remember when I was last around it, and some less." She pauses, and then adds, a little quieter, "Xenia? You alright?"
Xenia blinks rapidly a few times, trying to clear her head. She coughs and nods, tapping her chest with her fist a few times, like she's got a piece of pizza stuck in her windpipe. If that is the case, however, it doesn't last long and she takes a deep breath. "I'm alright," she says. "I'm sorry. I… that… Oh dear …" she reaches up and realizes she's bleeding and her left eye blinks again, clearly stinging from the blood running into it. "I'm really bad at this. I'm very sorry, I really am."
Yael furrows her brow and grabs a rag from a pile of them on the counter, wets it, and hands it over towards the theurge, with a quick and easy-going shake of her head to shake off the apology. "Do you have that whole prophecy-bit happen often?" she finally asks.
Xenia nods and takes the rag and puts it against the scalp wound. "I do," she says, wearily. "I don't need both eyes to see clearly. If Raven told me to give him my remaining one for more clarity, I wouldn't hesitate to do so. But people tend to dislike it when it happens around them."
Yael makes another sound that seems, if anything, derisive of aforementioned 'people'. "People are morons," she states, before going to the cabinet, pulling down a mug, and filling it with water, then setting it down near the younger Garou rather than intruding too much on her personal space. "Garou are fallible too, and most people dislike things that they do not understand."
There's a pause. "I'm not exactly most people. For one— these are the spirits, and should not be so… callously ignored. For two— well, like I said. I'm not exactly most people. I spent much of my life until now as a part of the Ahadi, in Africa, and my ideas tend to be a little bit different because of it. And what time I did not spend among the Ahadi I spent with books and libraries and history and looking for… a lot of things, a story longer than one afternoon and not for today, I think? Books don't fight amongst themselves like people do." The Get gets another one of those careful smiles from the Strider. "As long as you're not recklessly hanging yourself from Yggdrasil for nine days without properly preparing first and having some safeguards in place? You do you."
Xenia seems relieved that Yael understands. "Thank you," she says and runs a hand through her hair. "The spirits make more sense than people do, most of the time. At least to me. Raven is wiser than any of us could hope to be. Each spirit has something great and important to offer to those who would simply listen. And so few of us do, these days. You know the most important lesson I learned traveling this far?"
"I think," Yael says quietly in response, "that each individual's most important lesson might vary. But I would like to hear it, none-the-less." She grins. "And each day's most important lesson as well. Tomorrow brings a new set of challenges."
That clearly resonates with Xenia. "You are right. I chose my words poorly, but yes, the lesson most important to me, at least, has been that there is a reason why we are not just one big tribe. That we are different for a reason. Or for many reasons. We follow different traditions, we do things in different ways, we hold different ethics as important, and fight our battles in different ways. And if we were all the same, our enemies would always know what to expect. My tribe is strong. We breed for powerful warriors and there is glory in that. I do believe that the Silver Fangs and Black Furies and all the rest of them can be great warriors as well, but that the Get will always have an edge in a stand-up fight. It's what we've specialized in. If you want shock-tactics, call for the local Get of Fenris. But that does not make us the best for all occasions. Not even in war. No war was ever won exclusively by the strongest warriors. There is glory in that kind of strength. And pride. And there should be. I just think there's a great deal to be said for wise and honourable people who can think of how to deploy their glorious warriors to the best effect, as well. And yet…"
She says and shakes her head, looking older and far more tired than her years might suggest, "… and yet, we seem to fight each other as much as we fight our real enemies. If we could stop that kind of idiocy and unite instead, Jormundgandr would be dead before the night was over. And because I think that way, my own tribe thinks I'm either irredeemably mad, weak, or simply stupid."
Yael tugs at a corner of her headscarf so that it stays in place and there's an audible grumbling, although it sounds like Arabic rather than English. "Even in places where that is more of a principle than it is in the nation, it does not always work," she says. "Help each other, respect each other, you would think that these would be simple principles. But they're not the law." The philodox shakes her head. "Maybe we will get there, though," she adds. "And this sort of talking like we are doing now— talking where a cliath from one tribe, and an adren from another simply talk, without pretense or posturing and where I listen and you do— is part of it." She grins a bit. "So why did Raven send you here of all places, anyway?"
Xenia puts down the rest of the pizza slice. She makes a slightly uncomfortable face. "Yep, I'll be paying for the pizza," she mutters, not without a good-natured twinge in her voice. "I don't know exactly why. He told me to find the Hall of Mist. Which, as it turns out, is here. He said something important will happen here, although I don't know what, exactly. Not yet anyway. I don't think I'm the only one he has sent on such a journey, either. I trust Raven implicitly. If he tells me to go somewhere, I'll go there, and I'll figure out why later," she explains. "Ouch. This is the problem with pizza," she muses. "It tastes great. But I can't actually process it!"
Yael makes a sympathetic noise at the last bit. "It doesn't sit particularly well for me although I can cope okay, but it tastes so good," she agrees. "I don't think that Raven is the only one who has set folks towards this place, either," she muses. "This place… it's like a magnet, more so than many places." She shakes her head, and briefly, gently sets a hand on Xenia's shoulder (and carefully, too) as she makes her way towards the door. "You should let that heal," she says. "If you can."
Xenia nods. "I should but… you know, there's always something more to see. Another vision. As for the pizza, the biggest problem is that I can't actually digest bread. Or vegetables, for that matter. Which is why catching a turkey works. But… it's pizza. It's just too tempting, isn't it?" she chuckles. "I'll go try to rest up. Let the wound heal. Thank you… for listening. You've been very kind."
She slowly makes her way out the door. She looks tired, and like her stomach is hurting. But she clearly feels good having met a friendly face.
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (75% full).
Xenia walks down the stairs, scratching her neck. She looks like she's just come out of the shower, and her T-shirt is still wet. Either she washed it in the sink while she showered, or she actually showered while wearing it. Which seems to somehow defeat the purpose. Either way, she's wearing wet clothes and doesn't seem to be at all bothered by this. She's got her boots off, so at least she didn't bathe wearing those as well, but she's carrying them in her right hand. She's whistling, and she can certainly carry a tune. Right now, she's in the opening lead-in to Metallica's "Battery", should you be familiar with it. The point is, she doesn't seem to realize that there's someone else here…
Not as difficult as it might seem. Yael has tucked herself into a corner of the main room and is sitting on the floor, staring off into space and possibly thinking. The Strider's claimed one of the burner phones from the bucket and is staring at it like staring at it will make it ring, with more than a hint of frustration evident in her posture, but that melts away as she rises to stand at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. The phone is tucked into her pocket, and by the time the other reaches the bottom the Strider is adjusting her headscarf around her shoulders and tucking a few stray strands back underneath. "Good afternoon," she offers, with a slightly incredulous raised-brows expression at the wet clothes.
Xenia turns her head. Her missing eye does leave an obvious and significant blind spot… ahem… yes, well, puns and all that… and she simply hadn't seen Yael there. While she's new in St. Claire, she does know enough by now that she's aware that she's likely to run into other werewolves in this place. When she sees her, she nods politely. "Good afternoon to you as well," she says. "I hope I am not intruding. I stay in the garage, but I felt like a hot shower."
Her voice is accented, but not as much as one might expect from a foreigner. She's either got a good ear for languages, or she's spent some time in English-speaking countries, but it is clear it is not her first language.
"It is a common house. If I wanted solitude I would go elsewhere, it is fine," Yael responds. Her voice is also accented, the soft lilting tone of someone whose origin is somewhere in the Levant, and she ducks a nod. "I am Shai-Nefer. I am Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials, adren and halfmoon of the Silent Striders. Most people just call me Yael, though." The introduction is short, and rather more informal than it could be. "I was just about to get lunch, although I'm afraid it is just leftover pizza. If you're staying in the garage I take it that you have already made all of the necessary introductions?" Which doesn't stop the newcomer from being looked at with a critical once-over.
Xenia raises the eyebrow over her remaining eye and nods, like she is remembering something. "Sandra mentioned you," she says. "I am pleased to meet you, Gathers-Strength-to-the-Trials. I am Xenia Larsen, Blood-in-Eye, seer and crescent moon of the Get of Fenris, friend of Raven, traveler of great distances on his bidding and… well, since you ask, I ate the second turkey I caught a couple of days ago, earlier. I've met Thane and Brom. Well, Brom first, then Thane, then Sandra, who, as I mentioned, spoke of you," she explains, then quickly adds. "Kindly, may I add. She said you'd probably understand me better than most, in fact. I know Brom thought I'm either an imbecile, insane or a waste of space, at least. Or all three. Thane was courteous and dignified. Sandra was confusing. Plus I got hungry. So… well, we went hunting. I knew where to find some wild turkeys. They were very tasty… and I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I'm not good at this kind of thing."
The look on her face is one of self-recrimination almost immediately. She digs her fingernails into the palms of her hands and seems to be internally berating herself, and she's doing a downright awful job of hiding it…
Yael's snort at Brom's opinion hardly matches the rest of Yael's more dignified composure. Or perhaps she just doesn't think very highly of him. She moves over towards Xenia and nods. "C'mon, Xenia Larsen Blood-in-Eye," she offers. "I am pleased to meet you as well." The statement is genuine, it would sound. "There's still plenty of pizza." It seems to be the philodox's attempt at a gentle redirection of the other's attention. "And I am intrigued by the great distances that you mention."
There is no question that the redirection is greatly appreciated. Xenia has no filter… whatever she thinks or feels is right there, readily visible to anyone around her, and coming to St. Claire has, so far, been a bit of an ordeal for her. Mostly because she's suddenly had to interact with people again. The disarming friendliness Yael presents certainly helps her relax a little and her shoulders slump. "Thank you. I'd… if…" she tries, then nods after thinking for a moment. "Raven would not mind that. I haven't bought the pizza, so it'd be okay for me to have a piece. I haven't had pizza in years, actually. Cold or otherwise."
She manages a smile. It's clearly not a facial expression she makes much use of, but it does come across as absolutely earnest. "I walked here. From Northern Denmark. That's what Brom thought made me a moron, but Raven told me to do so. Sure, I stowed away on a ship to England and picked pennies off the road for a few years to save up for a cheap plane ticket to New York, but I walked all the way from there to here. He said I should just get it over with and join the Striders or the Gnawers."
Yael tilts her head towards the kitchen and then nods, pulling the box of pizza out of the fridge and setting it on the table that has been assembled in the middle there, and opening it. It's about half of a half cheese, half meat pizza, and Yael takes one of the slices from the cheese side and in fact begins to eat it cold. "I took a few moon bridges to shorten the distance," the adren offers, "but more or less walked here from Israel, with a few bus rides." She shakes her head. "Brom is a moron," she adds. "And a rude one at that. It does not seem to me that listening to a calling and direction from Raven should make you so at odds with your tribe."
Xenia shrugs and takes one of the slices from the meat-side. She takes a bite and seems to find the experience rather humorous for some reason. "I'm going to regret this later," she muses, but takes another bite anyway. "And you wouldn't think so, I guess. But I didn't fit in with my own tribe, any more than I've ever really fitted in with anyone else. Except the spirits, that is. They make sense to me. People don't. I don't understand most of the tribes. I do get the Get, which sounds like a bad joke already, but I hope you know what I mean. I'm proud of my tribe. But I learned things while walking all that way. Things I'm trying very hard to take to heart. When I left Denmark, I had only met a few people outside my own tribe. One of your tribe, who didn't stay long in the sept and frankly I don't blame him, and a couple of Shadow Lords. Those were it, really. Then… then my Rite of Passage happened and everything changed, and before I knew it, I was trying to find the Hall of Mist, on Raven's bidding. You don't walk that far without learning. Maybe Brom should try it sometime… instead of placing his rank arse on the leather seat of a gas-guzzler for once."
She does have some fire in her, but she's incredibly awkward around people. There's a lot of wyld in her, for certain.
Yael offers another smile, and the composure that she's managed slips such that she shows her amusement at the younger woman's last comment, badly stifling a snicker. "I am of the opinion that most Garou and most people even in general should try it sometime," she says, and then eventually shakes her head. "My tribe," she notes, "very in-fre-quen-tly," although Yael is certain of the word, there is some hesitation in how to say it and she simply slows down for a moment, "stay in one place for any length of time. I've been here almost a month in total, not counting some time that I spent in surrounding states and going up to Canada. It's an interesting experience, and an interesting sept with more tribes in one place than I have seen anywhere and any time in my life except maybe the time I went to a grand moot."
Xenia seems to relax a little with a piece of cold pizza in her. She takes another bite and, yet again, seems to find it hilariously funny for some reason. "It's a war out there," she says, using an expression she often returns to, and her voice grows contemplative. "I've seen it. Walked through it. Fought my battles, with no witnesses and no way out if I failed. And you know the lesson I learned from it all? That Raven is right. As long as I trust him, he will provide for me. I own nothing except what I wear. I'd own less if I could. Wolves have the better way, over human beings."
She looks at the pizza, now half gone, in left hand. The right goes up to scratch at the leather-strap around her face, where it covers her missing eye. For a moment, the mirth seeps out of her and her voice grows distant, like she's recounting something playing out in front of her eyes, which only she can see.
"Flashes of steel and silver, grey fur seeped through with crimson, hate, anger, exaltation. The long nights of winter are so long and so dark now, that the nation thinks there is no dawn to be found anymore. The light of the hearth is dimmed…" she says, her voice growing raspy, creaky, almost like that of a raven screeching shattered words. The fingers of her right hand continue up to her scalp where she picks at a fresh wound. It doesn't start to gush, but it does bleed a little, the blood seeping down over her face. A long, red tendril runs down the ridge of her nose. Two strands of it drift through her left eyebrow and into her eye…
So that is where her deed name comes from…
She doesn't seem to realize there is a world around her by now. Her voice stays as it was, as she speaks up again. "The Nation has forgotten that there is kindling under the lean-to, if they have the courage to leave the long-house and seek it out. It is cold and dark outside, and hideous things hides in that darkness, but the walls of the long-house will not keep them out, if the hearth dies. The Nation has lost sight of victory. They fight like fools, trying to stave off defeat for one more night, but the hearth is all but cold and the embers are flickering out, one by one. Take the kindling, child, and stoke the fire. Remind the Nation that it can fight to win."
The Strider, perhaps about to say something in response to the beginning, closes her mouth again at the change in tone of voice. Instead, Yael simply listens, although she does move to lean on the counter, brow furrowing, and then furrowing some more as the theurge continues to talk.
"The Nation has many flaws," is what she finally says, although her voice is back to the carefully professional tone that betrays very little of her true feelings. "Some more than I remember when I was last around it, and some less." She pauses, and then adds, a little quieter, "Xenia? You alright?"
Xenia blinks rapidly a few times, trying to clear her head. She coughs and nods, tapping her chest with her fist a few times, like she's got a piece of pizza stuck in her windpipe. If that is the case, however, it doesn't last long and she takes a deep breath. "I'm alright," she says. "I'm sorry. I… that… Oh dear …" she reaches up and realizes she's bleeding and her left eye blinks again, clearly stinging from the blood running into it. "I'm really bad at this. I'm very sorry, I really am."
Yael furrows her brow and grabs a rag from a pile of them on the counter, wets it, and hands it over towards the theurge, with a quick and easy-going shake of her head to shake off the apology. "Do you have that whole prophecy-bit happen often?" she finally asks.
Xenia nods and takes the rag and puts it against the scalp wound. "I do," she says, wearily. "I don't need both eyes to see clearly. If Raven told me to give him my remaining one for more clarity, I wouldn't hesitate to do so. But people tend to dislike it when it happens around them."
Yael makes another sound that seems, if anything, derisive of aforementioned 'people'. "People are morons," she states, before going to the cabinet, pulling down a mug, and filling it with water, then setting it down near the younger Garou rather than intruding too much on her personal space. "Garou are fallible too, and most people dislike things that they do not understand."
There's a pause. "I'm not exactly most people. For one— these are the spirits, and should not be so… callously ignored. For two— well, like I said. I'm not exactly most people. I spent much of my life until now as a part of the Ahadi, in Africa, and my ideas tend to be a little bit different because of it. And what time I did not spend among the Ahadi I spent with books and libraries and history and looking for… a lot of things, a story longer than one afternoon and not for today, I think? Books don't fight amongst themselves like people do." The Get gets another one of those careful smiles from the Strider. "As long as you're not recklessly hanging yourself from Yggdrasil for nine days without properly preparing first and having some safeguards in place? You do you."
Xenia seems relieved that Yael understands. "Thank you," she says and runs a hand through her hair. "The spirits make more sense than people do, most of the time. At least to me. Raven is wiser than any of us could hope to be. Each spirit has something great and important to offer to those who would simply listen. And so few of us do, these days. You know the most important lesson I learned traveling this far?"
"I think," Yael says quietly in response, "that each individual's most important lesson might vary. But I would like to hear it, none-the-less." She grins. "And each day's most important lesson as well. Tomorrow brings a new set of challenges."
That clearly resonates with Xenia. "You are right. I chose my words poorly, but yes, the lesson most important to me, at least, has been that there is a reason why we are not just one big tribe. That we are different for a reason. Or for many reasons. We follow different traditions, we do things in different ways, we hold different ethics as important, and fight our battles in different ways. And if we were all the same, our enemies would always know what to expect. My tribe is strong. We breed for powerful warriors and there is glory in that. I do believe that the Silver Fangs and Black Furies and all the rest of them can be great warriors as well, but that the Get will always have an edge in a stand-up fight. It's what we've specialized in. If you want shock-tactics, call for the local Get of Fenris. But that does not make us the best for all occasions. Not even in war. No war was ever won exclusively by the strongest warriors. There is glory in that kind of strength. And pride. And there should be. I just think there's a great deal to be said for wise and honourable people who can think of how to deploy their glorious warriors to the best effect, as well. And yet…"
She says and shakes her head, looking older and far more tired than her years might suggest, "… and yet, we seem to fight each other as much as we fight our real enemies. If we could stop that kind of idiocy and unite instead, Jormundgandr would be dead before the night was over. And because I think that way, my own tribe thinks I'm either irredeemably mad, weak, or simply stupid."
Yael tugs at a corner of her headscarf so that it stays in place and there's an audible grumbling, although it sounds like Arabic rather than English. "Even in places where that is more of a principle than it is in the nation, it does not always work," she says. "Help each other, respect each other, you would think that these would be simple principles. But they're not the law." The philodox shakes her head. "Maybe we will get there, though," she adds. "And this sort of talking like we are doing now— talking where a cliath from one tribe, and an adren from another simply talk, without pretense or posturing and where I listen and you do— is part of it." She grins a bit. "So why did Raven send you here of all places, anyway?"
Xenia puts down the rest of the pizza slice. She makes a slightly uncomfortable face. "Yep, I'll be paying for the pizza," she mutters, not without a good-natured twinge in her voice. "I don't know exactly why. He told me to find the Hall of Mist. Which, as it turns out, is here. He said something important will happen here, although I don't know what, exactly. Not yet anyway. I don't think I'm the only one he has sent on such a journey, either. I trust Raven implicitly. If he tells me to go somewhere, I'll go there, and I'll figure out why later," she explains. "Ouch. This is the problem with pizza," she muses. "It tastes great. But I can't actually process it!"
Yael makes a sympathetic noise at the last bit. "It doesn't sit particularly well for me although I can cope okay, but it tastes so good," she agrees. "I don't think that Raven is the only one who has set folks towards this place, either," she muses. "This place… it's like a magnet, more so than many places." She shakes her head, and briefly, gently sets a hand on Xenia's shoulder (and carefully, too) as she makes her way towards the door. "You should let that heal," she says. "If you can."
Xenia nods. "I should but… you know, there's always something more to see. Another vision. As for the pizza, the biggest problem is that I can't actually digest bread. Or vegetables, for that matter. Which is why catching a turkey works. But… it's pizza. It's just too tempting, isn't it?" she chuckles. "I'll go try to rest up. Let the wound heal. Thank you… for listening. You've been very kind."
She slowly makes her way out the door. She looks tired, and like her stomach is hurting. But she clearly feels good having met a friendly face.