Ivan Press

[Ivan] Ivan extended the offer to Barks Secret at the moot; to Penelope sometime afterward. Penelope passed word on to Hunter, or maybe Hunter just heard the open invite from Ivan and decided to show up. One way or another, all four of them are gathered here.

The Caern's not exactly party central. No delicious canapes here; no ice-cold premium vodka. No beautiful, emptyheaded starving swans. No 70-foot yacht. Just creaking old ships chained to crumbling piers; collapsing hangars; and everywhere, amidst the urban decay, a sort of wild revival. Weeds and wildgrasses. Flowers, sometimes, in the summer.

That season's fading fast. It's cool on the lakeside this evening, and the last light of day lingers only as a twilight glow in the west. It's the dark of moon. A few portable lanterns strung up in one of the smaller hangars sheds light on their predetermined meeting place, where Ivan waits for them sitting crosslegged atop a crate. His jeans are so distressed they look genuinely dusty, which probably just means they're astronomically expensive. He's wearing a t-shirt, and even that's a cut above in quality and cut: brilliant fitted to his lean torso, his bare arms golden with summer. He's toying with his phone, but puts that away as the others show up.

"Winston, Penny. You guys know each other?" He pauses on Hunter, openly curious. "What's your name, bro?"

[Hunter Matthews] he wasn't at the moot
to Ivan

[Hunter Matthews] oh excellent!
to Ivan

[Hunter Matthews] There's a rumbling of an engine beyond the boundaries of the Bawn, it rolls to a halt and a Gnawer wanders in off the streets. Through the jagged meshed fences, across the tarmac and between hangers. He comes for a meeting, a meeting he isn't invited to exactly. You see, Hunter wasn't at the moot, wasn't in town to hear Ivan talk about the formation of this pack. But word has got around, and the word on the street is that any packless Garou in the area should meet this "Ivan." Find out what the deal-e-o is. He wears a light grey zip up hoodie, white wife beater beneath and a pair of blue jeans. The blue fabric, in places, is stained a murky brownish-yellowish colour from oil and god knows what else.

He stops in his waltz across the Bawn when he spots the lights in the hanger, he tilts his head towards them. He could just walk away now, be done with this whole stupid idea. Instead he heads on in. He regrets it almost the second he sees 'Ivan' with his fancy clothes and fancy-pants phone. But he's here now, he might as well see whats up.

He offers a huge smile to Ivan, obviously forced and he jumps right on up next to him on that crate.

"Hunter Matthews bro." He offers his hand and there's a pause "Nice shirt." His smile splits into a grin.

[Barks Secrets] Urban decay, weeds that find their way through cracks in the heavy-laid pavement, the groaning and moaning of old metal ships and old wooden docks, the grays and the mists as Autumn works its way back into power... These weren't what a Fang would be used to, but the others seemed relatively at home with the gloom-- or at least appeared to fit in with it better.

Ivan had suggested a partnership of sorts during the moot, Winston (being an opportunist like any good Gnawer) decided to give it a shot. A meeting time was set, and Winston had disappeared after the moot only to return when agreed. When he came back he appeared as a man rather than a wasted away monster of bones and shaggy fur. His face and throat were all in dire need of a shave, his hair was growing out thick like a brilo-pad from a very close cut that he'd worn for the summer. He wore a faded orange trucker hat on his head, a pair of stained and tattered jeans, flip-flops with tape holding them together and a gray T-shirt with a logo for Dr. Pepper on the chest.

A cigarette dangled from his lips, so this way smoke followed every wheezing exhale the wolf-in-man-clothes breathed out. They all seemed to meet at roughly the same time, with the other Gnawer he'd never seen before making himself right at home and Ivan addressing the Metis first. Winston's heavy brows lifted, and he glanced toward the Black Fury before shrugging his narrow shoulders and shaking his head.

"Naw. I'd remember a face that apple-dumpling." His grin from around the cigarette was just as twisted and black as it was when worn on a killer's muzzle. His hands stayed in his pockets, not produced unless summoned by offerings or suggestions. He stands with his shoulders rounded and his back hunched a little. It helped him to look shorter, smaller, less threatening. ...Not that he'd be much of a threat standing straight, though.

[Penelope] Penny wasn't at the moot, either. She was somewhere far away, hunting, searching, to no success. Ivan caught sight of her somewhere and recognized the Fury despite a current look of disarray, filthy clothes and wild hair, the smell of the road clinging to her skin.

She's showered since then, and recently if the dampness of her hair is any indication. She's dressed in a fitted tee that sort of goes with a short blue basket weave skirt that exposes quite a bit of long, lean legs. Yes, the Ahroun actually owns a bit of feminine clothing. Ankle boots crunch on gravel as she pushes her way through the break in the chain link fence.

The only person here she recognizes is Ivan. There was a time, not so very long ago, when she intended to seek him out and join her under another totem. Curious that he'd found her instead of the other way around, she crosses her arms over her stomach. And smiles at Winston, a lopsided near-smirk of a grin at the sorta compliment of her appearance.

"So what's the plan?"

[Ivan] "Well. I'm Ivan Press, Fang Ragabash. This is Winston Barks-Secrets, Gnawer Ragabash. That's Penny Kiss-with-a-Fist, Fury Ahroun. Annnnnd," he eyes Hunter for a moment, "I'm going to guess either Gnawer or Fianna Ahroun for you.

"We're all here because we want to get in a pack. Maybe not necessarily with each other -- I'm not going to be all butt-hurt if we all leave here tonight unpacked -- but as far as I know we're all willing to give this thing a shot. Winston and I talked about it briefly at the moot. I asked him to be here because he spoke up against a kineating lupus and a Fostern Theurge who'd given the kineating lupus a new kin to chomp on. That takes balls, and I respect that. I asked Penny to be here because I've fought with her a few times, and she's an Ahroun that knows her shit and isn't too proud or ornery to send the Ragabash in first to scout. I'd pack with either of them without hesitation. As for Hunter -- I don't know you, but if things work out tonight I don't have a problem with you, either.

"As for the pack itself and its direction -- first off, here's what it's not. I'm not really all that interested in being an Alpha. I'm not interested in being Omega, either, so if you're looking for a strict hierarchy where everyone's on a totempole, I'm going to politely decline. I'm also neither interested in politics nor in kissing spirit ass. If you're here looking for a pack of Respect or Wisdom, I'm not your man. If you're looking for a ragabash who'll heckle your enemies for your own personal advancement, I'm not your man either.

"I do want a pack where I can do what I do best -- scouting and ambushing, possibly with one of you fine Ahroun meatshields standing in front of the enemy to distract them. I want packmates that don't take themselves too seriously. And I really want to pack under Momentum and ride that wave for as long as it lasts."

He's done. He raises his hands a moment, then drops them back to his knees. "That's my spiel."

[Barks Secrets] Winston grew up sitting, sleeping, rolling in and eating from the dirt. He didn't have to find a crate or an old oil drum in order to bend his knobby knees and sit himself down. He did that precisely where he'd come to a stand and plopped his ass on the dusty pavement beneath him. Ankles crossed, knees bent up to stab toward the sky, and he rested his elbows on top of them and curved his spine forward to slump and curl in upon himself.

He listened to Ivan without too much to say, bland colorless eyes not glued to the other Ragabash, but settled on him most of the time when they didn't flick after a sound or drift out toward the lake.

He's pulling at and flattening back the black electrical tape holding his sandals together when the Silver Fang finishes speaking, and watching his own long fingered hands (big, gangly things that didn't match the rest of his body, making it look like he was still pubescent in small, lingering ways) Winston responds in a way that sounded more like he was musing aloud than anything else.

"So Momentum or bust, no other options sit pretty for you." That hand moves from his sandal up to his face, to tug at the long hairs on his upper lip. "...Alright. What turf would we take, and who do you propose leads? This Sept ain't too keen on liberal thinking-- when they have meetings they want the Alphas there. Someone's gotta bite the bullet and take responsibility for our otherwise irresponsible asses."

[Hunter Matthews] He doesn't respond when Ivan makes guesses about his tribe and auspice, he just smiles and listens to what the Fangabash has to say. It's most unusual, what he's looking for is almost... democratic... its very Gnawerish of him and instinctively his eyes seek out Winston. By the time Ivan has finished talking, Hunter looks rather pleased if anything.

"Not what I expected when I sniffed yo blood out muh man Ivan. I'm an Ahroun, but I'm a Gnawer first and foremost" He says as if to answer the initial guessing of his tribe. "Smart'n'dirty combat's what we do. I ain't got no probs with tactical warfare. But Winston's right, somebody's gotta lead this merry band of bastards--" A pause and he looks to penny with a grin. "And bastard-ettes -- we're wolves, and if I knew you all better I'd say sure lets just do it the Gnawer way, all's an equal. But I don't, and when shit hits the fan somebody's gotta be giving orders."

There's a pause and he adds

"Whats this Momentum like anyway?"

[Penelope] Penny listens, hazel eyes thoughtful and brow tensed and pensive. Where the other sit, she remains standing, feet apart, one hip jutted to the side. A slow shift of her weight sets the other hip out. While Ivan talks, she watches Hunter and Winston, not exactly hiding the fact that she's checking them out, assessing what she sees. That's what they're here for, after all.

When Ivan finishes, when Winston's said his piece, Penny's head comes up. And when it does she looks to Ivan first. "I'll stand alpha. You know I'll put you where you need to be to get the job done."

Shifting her weight again, her booted toe scuffs the dirt at her feet. "Momentum, huh? You're not really looking for something long term, are you?" she asks with a grin that says she's not really looking for it, either. Their kind isn't meant to go it solo, and Penny wants a pack. But the last one lasted such a short time, just a few weeks. It's a little better, knowing they could be done in a week, or whenever Momentum's through with them, from the start.

[Hunter Matthews] Hunter Matthews watches penny with a curious expression on his face when she speaks up about being Alpha, he slowly pushes himself down from the crate and he paces back and forth in front of her in silence. Suddenly he halts and speaks up.

"Night time, we're in the bronze patrolin'. Hangin out. You spot equal numbers of dancers totally going all lecter on some humans in a big parking lot. Whaddya do. Go."

[Ivan] [*squeezes this in before hunter's post!*]

The 'Fangabash' grins crookedly as Hunter calls him unexpected. "Well," he replies, "if I were your average Fang, I probably wouldn't be in Chicago, would I?

"As for Momentum," he adds, "she's part Lady Luck, part daredevil queen. Some Theurge could probably go on about her in detail, but I only have a gut sense of her. She's like ... the essence of a risky winning streak. She chooses us and we're just lucky. Everything we do seems to work. The bigger chances we take the more she rewards us -- until one day our luck runs dry and she just leaves us high and dry.

"Which sort of answers Penny's question. No, I'm not necessarily looking for something long-term. Doesn't mean you guys can't switch totems and truck on, but I'll be upfront. When Momentum departs, chances are I'm going to follow her around until she comes back to me and whatever new squad of bastards and bastardettes I manage to rustle up."

[Warcry] [Mind if i drop in for a bit?]
to Barks Secrets, Hunter Matthews, Ivan, Penelope

[Barks Secrets] [Is Warcry planning on boppin' out of Unbroken and joining up here? :P]
to Hunter Matthews, Ivan, Penelope, Warcry

[Warcry] [OH YES TOTALLY.]
to Barks Secrets, Hunter Matthews, Ivan, Penelope

[Hunter Matthews] dont mind -- ahahaha kenna
to Barks Secrets, Ivan, Penelope, Warcry

[Penelope] "Ah, heh, nice," Penny says with a grin. Her eyes snap to the other Ahroun when he rises. She doesn't tense, though, doesn't immediately drop into a defensive stance, ready to rumble for the position of alpha.

Instead of snapping into a fighting form, the Gnawer asks a question, putting out the hypothetical that could so easily be reality.

Penny doesn't waste long on an answer.

"Easy. I prefer surprise attacks, myself. Send in the stealth bomb," a nod to Ivan, "after the weakest and cripple them. You and me, we'd take our chances on the biggest and rip him apart from two sides. Then focus fire on the lot of them until there's nothing left but a smear on the pavement. You guys know how to bind talens, right?" She looks to each of them in turn.

[Warcry] The Caern is not, as has been said, party central. But sometimes there's a fight club over in that hangar, and sometimes there's cthulhu-like beasts from the deep crawling up on the shore to throw around epically-bred Kinswomen and generally fuck people up. It is also home to the shrines to tribal and pack totems. It is where they meet under full moons.

It's where Tripoli can be himself with utter freedom. He's allowed to wander, here. No boundaries have been placed but for the one that even the Garou must respect. He's outgrown longing for his playpen full of tin cans and cutlery, because he is a Big Boy now who sometimes charges into battle with shield and lance and sometimes, well,

explodes in battle, too.

At the moment he is something like eighteen inches tall, with long wriggling arms and a single rough-tread wheel. His eyes are a bright, curious blue as he zips right through the middle of this meeting of would-be packmates, flailing and yelling

EEEEEEEEEEE!

But wouldn't you, if a wolf was chasing you? A wolf who, by presence alone -- nevermind the piercings that line her lupine ears and glint under her fur, nevermind those crystalline blue eyes that so many of the Unbroken have in common -- is known to them as one Warcry, Brutal Revelation. Also known as Sinclair, also known as that girl who speaks Kansasian when she's tired.

She's barrelling after the elemental, and any of them can tell she's not trying all that hard to catch him. They're playing. And she doesn't knock over crates, her tail barely wags against someone's leg. She just zips through after Tripoli, barking at him.

[Barks Secrets] "What about me?"

Winston is all but batting eyelashes up at Penelope, doing his best to look dejected and forgotten in the plan that she'd proposed for the hypothetical situation full of Dancers and Danger. What it ends up looking like instead, however, is as though he's got an eyelash bent down and poking him in the corner of his eye, causing him to rapidly blink and lose focus. The grin that he wears isn't any more pleasant than the odor emitting from the fibers of his clothes and the tight curls of hair under his hat.

Fingers touch lightly at the brim of said hat, and he continues to speak, even as his eyes follow after the Lupus racing after a materialized spirit, chasing and frolicking like the Apocalypse weren't a dog's age away. His tone of voice doesn't change a bit from what it would have been were he watching a moth instead.

"...So Momentum putters out after a month and a half and we just cut ways... What if we all grow attached to each other and I'm too in love what we have? No new Totems whatsoever?"

[Hunter Matthews] He's caught in a reply when the Elemental, followed by the wolf, barrels through their little congregation.

"Hey!" he shouts in surprise and darts to the side as the two of them play their game of chase. It distracts him from the seriousness of the question to Penelope and he stops to watch their antics. He laughs.

"Well shit, you don't see that every day. But Penny -- I can call you Penny right? You don't look like a Penelope, maybe if I got you in a fancy dress you could be a Penelope. I like your style, I'd have a few additions though.." A pause.

"You mind? Great. So basically.. why send Ivan in alone? I don't know sweet fuck all about any of you, you say he's the stealth bomb? I'm pretty sure I'd be up there with him on that front. And winston?" He smirks at the other Gnawer and nods his head. "I bet you know your way around a shadow or two don't you you dirty dog. Basically what I'm sayin' Penny-me-lass is that we strike together, in unison. It's the Gnawer way, its the smart way."

[Ivan] Tripoli's going so fast he's got Doppler shift. eeeEEEEEEEeeeee... is what they all hear as he tears by, Ivan grabbing the sides of his crate and hopping himself backwards a few steps

just in time to get out of Sinclair's way as she tears through.

Penny's stepped up for Alpha. That shouldn't surprise anyone. Hunter fires a pop quiz; Barks Secret jumps on the bandwagon. There's a glint in Ivan's eye, but he keeps his mouth shut for now, only pausing to answer Winston.

"No, we can switch totems after Momentum abandons us. I'm just saying up front -- if you guys switch totems and stick together, I'll probably still hightail it out of here and try to follow Momentum again."

[Warcry] It's true. The elemental leaves a cloud of dust in his wake, moving wickedly fast, feigning terror at being pursued by this particular Galliard. Sinclair herself churns up a couple paw-fulls of dirt and gravel as she neatly avoids the Garou whose meeting she's invading, but then the Glass Walker and her numen are out of sight, rounding a bend with skittering rock and sprays of earth going up behind them.

EEE!

And silence.

[Penelope] When the spirit-chasing lupus barrels through their little makeshift congregation, Penny just steps back and watches. There's a rush of air, and the faintest touch of fur against her bare shin; it's the closest thing to physical contact the Fury's had with another Garou in weeks. She grins after the Fostern at play, her hands sliding to her hips, fingers searching for a pocket, belt loops, something to hook into and finding only soft fabric.

"My apologies," she says with a tip of her head to Winston and a spark of humor in her hazel eyes. "I had a Gnawer for a packmate before who looked a little like you. No Moon or not, you don't look like a frontline fighter.

"A revision, then." She shifts her weight to the side again, eyes rolling skyward. As she speaks, she lifts her right hand, flipping the palm upward. "We swoop in like a murder of crows and focus our attacks, taking out the weakest as fast as we can and save the leader for last. I'll stay up front to keep their attention. You're free to join me if you like," she adds for Hunter, the corner of her mouth twitched in a grin.

[Hunter Matthews] "Orly? Well, the front lines are for Fenrir's and other types of legumes. But when it comes to Pack, I'll be up there. Fo shizzle pendizzle."

He turns to regard Winston and Ivan.

"I've made my decision, I'm happy for Penny to lead. But this ain't no fang-bangin power-play pack, no offense Ivan. I'm not stupid, I'll keep my trap shut in the heat of the moment unless its a real big problem. You gotta be willing to give though Penny, I won't put up with no rank pullin' once the pack's been made and your names all shiny on the plaque."

There's a pause and then something of the animal snarls out in him. It's well controlled, but its there burning beneath the surface like a boiler just waiting for the go-ahead to explode.

"Like I said, I ain't no legume, but you and me?" And he points to her. "We're full moons, I will put you down and keep the ideals of the pack alive if you break them."

[Penelope] She didn't speak up to confirm or deny the acceptance of being called Penny rather than Penelope, merely let the other Ahroun keep talking. To her it's just another name, less important than her deed name, something given but not earned. At Pendizzle, however, she huffs out a short laugh.

Penny stares at him, though, while he controls his rage. It calls to her own, stoking the inner fires. Her own rage is higher than it was when she was a Bagman. It's higher than it was before she met a gangly Gnawer with a wild curly jewfro in Las Vegas. It doesn't rule her, but it burns in her eyes as she changes her stance again, prepared.

Her grin this time is tight. "I'd expect you to. Any of you." There's no lecture on the importance of pack and trust within it, even if the pack is a temporary one. "That said, what are our ideals? You said what we aren't, what do you think we should be?" she asks her new Fangabash.

[Ivan] "Actually," Ivan shifts slightly where he sits crosslegged and limber-spined, "before we get to ideals or lack thereof, I have one more question.

"You stepped up for Alpha, but as soon as Hunter spoke up in dissent, you changed your mind and went with his plan. Doesn't that mean Hunter should call the shots?"

[Barks Secrets] Winston's arms are thrown up suddenly, drastically over his head, which is ducked closer to his knees. He holds this pose for a moment, then throws his arms back down toward the ground and pushes himself up into a stand. His cigarette had long since burnt out, but the butt was still dangling in his lips. This flew out onto the ground when a coughing fit took hold. It rumbled low in his ribcage, then burst out in a hoarse, barking hack that stuttered and slapped like a fish floundering in shallow water.

Hunter wanted to go ahead with the pack. Penelope already said she'd be happy to be Alpha. Ivan was the one that had the idea in the first place. All Winston had to do was play along and volunteer. This was the moment where the Full Moons measured their proverbial dicks. It was simply their nature, they couldn't help themselves, they had far too much animal under their skins to not. This was the part where they grew frustrated with one another and lashed out at him, the easy, sniveling, mouthy target.

So the Metis wrapped up the hacking fit that had popped a blood vessel in his eye, straightened up while it healed. He wiped his mouth with his wrist and eyed the Black Fury, then the other Gnawer, then the Fang. His mouth curved into a smile as sharp as the claws that tore him into the world, and he scratched under his hat, then in the front of his pants, and tucked his hands into his pockets once more.

"Richy Rich here has a point, Apple Bottom."

[Warcry] A little while after all that silence, Warcry trots around the corner again, carrying her pet metal elemental in her jaws by the torso. His arms and his wheel dangle and sway with her movements. He looks content as a baby bear being carried by its mother, gazing at the ground that passes underneath them, taking a few occasions to look around.

Her own eyes as blue and curious as Tripoli's, Sinclair comes back to the group, standing a few feet aside. She settles down on her haunches and puts Tripoli down on his wheel. He starts rolling back and forth as though to regain his balance, while Sinclair watches. And listens.

Then he notices something very bad. Moisture. Moisture leads to rust. Rust leads to badness. Badness leads to GIANT FOMORI-DOG-CYBORGS OF DEATH. With a sudden upward flail of his arms, Tripoli zooms over to Hunter and begins rubbing his metal torso against the Ahroun's pant leg, trying frantically to dry himself off.

[Penelope] Penny quirks a brow at Ivan, then Winston. Her gaze lingers longest on the Gnawer. Coughing fits aren't generally good for sneak attacks and ambushes.

Her head still turned toward Winston, her eyes flick to the Silver Fang. "Alpha's aren't always right. Ahrouns...don't always come up with plans that'll see everyone alive on the other side of a fight. If someone has a good idea, I'm not about to shut it down out of hand."

[Hunter Matthews] "Well shit guys, Penny's right, what are we looking for here? You want a fuckin Mod-Squad-Modi leading you all because he's the stronger better leader? I thought you weren't lookin for pack hierarchy Ivan? In which case Alpha is just a name, someone we can throw to the elders so the rest of us can keep on keepin on. An alpha who can compromise is actually a benefit in this situation.

Only way to do it is a vote, either that or me and pretty face over there are about to make each others night with some good old fashioned brawling.

You two need to stand up and say what you want from your alpha, or no decision can be made."

[Hunter Matthews] [ADDITION ACK]

His leg twitches, his eyes turn to the Elemental on his leg. He gives it a shake, no dice. He lowers one hand slowly and pats the metal leg-clinger.

"Your friends makin me wet."

[Warcry] A chuff from the Fostern, at that. Disdainful, perhaps disgusted. Amused, too. Tripoli is freaking out, but he's still quite small, and his freakouts at this level do not lead to whirling explosions of shrapnel and forge-heat. But it's quite clear that he's not a fan of moisture. And what self-respecting elemental of Metal would be?

In fact, Hunter's shake sends Tripoli sprawling, because Tripoli was, after all, just rubbing against him rather than clinging. The gaffling tips over with an EEEeeeee --! and faceplants, but this doesn't cause the Galliard to jump over and rip Hunter's throat out. She is mostly listening to the Cliaths standing here talking about who is to be Alpha, what an Alpha is to be, and seems confident that a little knock-down is not going to harm the spirit that she was just playing chase with.

Her ears are perked, her tail moving every so often as she goes on listening, turning to see what the Ragabashes have to say to the Ahrouns.

[Ivan] Ivan quirks a grin as Penny replies. It veers into an outright smirk when Hunter pipes up. The Silver Fang unfolds from his crosslegged sit atop the crate, shifting forward so his feet touch the ground. Now he's straddling the corner of the crate.

"My, you two got defensive fast," he observes. "I'm just pointing out that there's a difference between listening to advice - which I certainly hope you intend to do - and going about-face every time someone speaks up. Why didn't you even try to defend your original plan, Penny? Was it that bad?"

[Penelope] "It wasn't that good either. It left poor Winston here to cool his heels or slip in with the, what was it you said? The meatshields?" The Fury grins around the unfamiliar term. It's not hard to deduce its meaning, though. "Hunter's idea took advantage of our collective sneaking abilities, which I think could maximize damage to our enemies while keeping our losses to the minimum. Above all, I want everyone alive at the end of battle, and I don't care whose idea I have to steal to make that happen."

[Ivan] "Okay," Ivan says affably, "fair enough. But now I've got a complaint. This new plan might include everyone, but if we all charge in at once there's no element of surprise. You're not using Winston and I like Ragabashes. You're using us like wimpy Ahrouns.

"What now?"

[Hunter Matthews] "You are wimpy Ahrouns."

The gnawer grins, he's joking.

"But seriously, how is there no surprise? Better to surprise with four than two. I mean if I were some heavy clutz ass full moon you would have a point. But as it stands?" He shrugs.

[Warcry] To one side, the charcoal-colored wolf who is more sleek than brawny swiftly melts into the form of young woman with straw-colored hair and a proliferation of tattoos. Most of them are bared at the moment, because her shorts are cut high enough to reveal the viper wrapped around her right thigh and she is barefoot, which neatly shows the cuff of palm leaves and constellations and Portugese around her left ankle. There are names down one bicep, spikes on the other beneath a small titanium bar. There are rings in her ears: one of them hangs from her lobe bearing a small red bead and a miniscule feather carved out of metal. Her tank top is red. Her hair is loose.

She is folded into a crouch, but rises smoothly from it. Tripoli, not surprisingly, zooms back to her, his wheel bopping over hillocks and rocks til he swings one long slinky-like arm around her calf and spins himself between her heels, peering at the other Garou through them like a peasant between two pillars. Her head cocks to the side as though she's hearing something, eyes flicking away. Then she looks back to them.

Hunter gives his shrug, and Sinclair opens her mouth.

"May I speak?"

[Hunter Matthews] "Say what you want, free world and all that."

[Warcry] The Walker's pale eyes go to Hunter when he answers. She looks at him a moment, then waits to see what the others say.

[Penelope] Hunter answers. Penny turns to Sinclair and nods her agreement.

[Ivan] Ivan's eyes flick between Hunter and Penelope again, noting who speaks; who remains silent. Then he turns to Sinclair, and -- for all the casual flippancy of his questions to Penelope -- there's a curious formality in his tone. Nothing at all of the way he spoke to her on the street the last time they met.

"Can you wait just a minute, Rhya? I want to hear Penelope's answer first."

[Warcry] Warcry does not wait for Winston to answer. He is, after all, not only Gnawer but Metis. If he is curiously silent, she doesn't care to wait for him to give a shocked Who, me?. Everyone knows he won't be Alpha, in any case.

She looks at Ivan and, after a beat of consideration, shakes her head. "It makes no difference if she answers before or after I say my piece. You can all get back to discussing hypothetical battle strategies in a moment."

He has not put forth his name for Alphaship, as far as she can tell. She goes by what the two Ahrouns said in response to her. That, too, is as notable as the fact that Hunter spoke so quickly to give her leave and that Penny agreed, however silently.

She mainly addresses them. "I am not a prospective member of this potential pack," she says outright, "nor am I the warmaster of the sept to direct how various packs are used. But I am the voice of history, and you have no other like me standing with you right now."

Sinclair disentangles herself from Tripoli and takes a step forward. "When I first came to Chicago, the pack I was a part of had only the loosest heirarchy. We named no Alpha, and it led to our unraveling. Even now I doubt that we would have ended much differently even if we'd had a named Alpha, because it would have been like a two-headed dog, each straining for its own bone."

Another step forward, now standing just outside their grouping. She looks to Penelope. "The Fang will have to forgive me for making his cleverness transparent, but let a Ragabash question as much as they want to and they will do so til you backhand them." She says this without rancor, or wryness either. "And outside of combat, outside of formal gatherings, fine. They do you a service to nitpick your every word, some more elegantly than others. The point this particular New Moon is making is that when you are actually in combat, the job of the Alpha, the Ahroun, the battle master, is to say 'this is what we're doing'. End of story. End of discussion.

"I've heard from my sister what you did when you fought the angel in the barn," Sinclair goes on. "I know you are capable of doing exactly that. When in the midst of it all, there's often no time to listen to other suggestions. And I think that's what what's-his-face over there --" this being Ivan, "is getting at."

She turns to look at Hunter. "It is not for the pack to detail the job description and the Alpha to bend to meet it. You can choose to follow the Alpha, promise to test her outside of wartime as per the law, choose to abandon her and the pack, but a pack cannot operate as a committee. There is a limit to how much human democracy can be allowed. In the end, regardless of tribe or purpose, the Alpha leads. The Alpha determines how much to listen to his or her packmates. And you suck it up or find someone else to follow."

She pauses, and looks at Ivan. "Sorry to step on your questioning, but you all seemed like you were about to start going in circles." She inclines her head, and reaches down to check and see if Tripoli is still damp. He's just dusty, now. Her eyes are on him when she says: "And that's all I got to say."

[Ivan] Ivan stirs audibly when Warcry gets to I think that's what what's his face is getting at. He doesn't look pleased. If anything, he looks a little cross, the lean smooth line of his jaw firmed.

"Rhya, I know you meant well," he says, perhaps a touch stiffly, "but I actually wasn't going in circles. Nor," with a pointed glance toward Hunter, "was I attacking Penny.

"I was testing my would-be Alpha. I was trying to see if Penny would ever hit on the point you just so kindly elucidated. Because if she didn't get there by herself, then I don't think she's qualified for the job.

"So. Yeah. Thank you for blowing that out of the water."

Yeah. Definitely cross.

[Warcry] Her eyes snap to him. "I didn't say you were going in circles, you narcissistic moron, nor did I say you were attacking Kiss With a Fist. I know exactly what you were doing, Cliath. Put words in my mouth again and I'll eat your tongue."

[Ivan] "Rhya," Ivan shifts to face this new front, "you asked if you could speak. I offered my opinion because it was asked for. I said no. You spoke anyway. If you were going to pull rank from the start, why bother with the charade?"

[Hunter Matthews] Hunter's eyes follow the exchange but when its over they settle on Ivan.

"Ivan let it go. It don't matter what this Fostern has to say about our pack. Quit lookin for a beatin."

[Warcry] Her eyebrow lifts at both Ivan and Hunter. She points first at the Fang. "Yup, and you were outnumbered. Notably, by the two who may be leading this pack." And then at Hunter. "Dude, he's right. You get defensive fast. You have no pack for me to say anything about. You want to snit, be my guest. It's always nice to see the stereotypes about the Gnawers manifested so clearly."

[Hunter Matthews] "Oh a full moon getting defensive, alert the fuckin media. Gimme a break. You want stereotypes? How about I walk the fuck on out of here and get on with my life, your sept can deal with another fuckin packless wolf. Explain that to your fuckin warmaster."

[Ivan] "Wow."

-- is all Ivan has to say to Hunter's threat to leave. The word says little. The tone says it all. He moves on:

"Penny, if you're going to be Alpha of all four of us, I think now's the time for action. This little friendly meet-up is devolving fast, and to be totally honest, where I'm standing right now it looks more like you and Hunter in one little pack and Winston and I in another. So... if you want to step up and show us your leader chops, I think you better not wait any longer."

[Penelope] "Knock it off, both of you," Penny snaps at her wouldbe packmates. "Of course it matters what she has to say," to Hunter, "it's foolish to ignore the wisdom of our elders. But, if you're going to walk away from the offer of a pack and expect the rest of the sept to look after you just because someone tells you things you don't like, well. You probably weren't going to last with a couple of Ragabashes, anyway.

"And as for you." Now her attention is on the Ivan. "I'm still game if you are, unless you've decided I failed your test and you can't trust me to lead you in battle. Which is fine. No hard feelings and all. But, if you're going to antagonize the Fosterns, maybe we should part ways here."

She watches the both of them, now, Ivan and Hunter being the only two who've voiced much of an opinion on the matter of pack.

[Ivan] Ivan doesn't answer Penelope first. He listens to her -- and carefully -- head cocked, eyes alert.

When she's finished he's already come to a decision. He points at Hunter first, though. Speaks to him first. "I have something to say to you after this," he says.

Then it's on to Penny. "I'm still in." Simple as that. "All I wanted to know is that you're willing to call the shots when you need to. I know you've got a mind of your own. I know you have leadership potential. But all I saw from you right up until now was you being Hunter's mouthpiece, or letting him outright speak for you. That's not an Alpha. That's a figurehead.

"I appreciate that you want to take our opinions into account. But frankly, I'd rather have a bad, tyrannical alpha than a nice, wishy-washy figurehead. A tyrant either gets shit done or gets challenged and deposed. A waffler might last long enough to sink everyone down into complacency.

"You keep acting like you just did, though, and I'll follow you. At least until our Momentum runs out."

[Warcry] When Hunter snaps back at Sinclair to give him a break, threatening to walk out, etcetera, she... doesn't even have as much to say to it as Ivan does. She rolls her eyes, her hand rubbing on Tripoli's head like one might scritch a dog, but she doesn't deign to respond to Hunter.

So by the time that Penny tells the two of them shut it, Warcry has gone quiet again, watchful again. She watches Penny as the Fury speaks, rather than watching to see how the others react to it. Tripoli is actually over by the hangar wall now, communing with the corrugated sheet metal by running his hand back and forth along it like a xylophone. It makes an awful racket.

[Hunter Matthews] "Shit girl, I ain't got no problem hearing things I don't like. I got a problem with crossed wires and vague ideas about a pack that I'm about to dedicate myself to. Shed my blood for."

His head turns to Ivan and he raises an eyebrow at him.

"Why you think I asked what you want from your Alpha Ivan? Yeah, this Fostern here said it all nice and pretty, Yessir Alpha is to lead without question. But when I stepped in here you made it sound like you didn't even want an alpha in anything except title. Now you turn around and speak frankly about it. You should have said that to begin with."

There's a pause, he's ranting. He really shouldn't be but he is.

"When me and old Penny over there started our little hypothetical, that was for me and her. That was for me to see if she could lead me in battle without the desire to challenge her every step of the way. I assumed you two didn't care."

He crosses his arms over his chest.

"As it stands, you're happy for her to lead. I assume winston is happy for her to lead. And I WAS happy for her to lead, but if this is going to turn into a regular old by the books pack, then the strongest and most capable wolf here should be running the show. Only one way to settle that darling."

[Ivan] Ivan's eyebrows hop up. He blurts out a laugh, loud enough to ring off the rafters. "There is no way I'm following you, Hunter," he says. "Not now. Not anymore. Not after that little threat to take your ball and go home.

"How's that for straightforward and up-front?"

[Hunter Matthews] "Good as gold Ivan, thanks for the chat -- good luck to all of you under Momentum."

And he leaves.

[Penelope] Ivan laughs outright, and Penny just looks at Hunter with brows raised in a Welp, what can you do? sort of look. Even if Hunter won in an all-out brawl, the pack would likely form without him.

The Ahroun walks off the field, and Penny watches him go, lifting her hand in a belated wave to Hunter's retreating back. No hard feelings, she'd said, and that's true enough. She turns back to Ivan.

"Looks like it's just us in this thing. An Ahroun and two Ragabashes, hm? That sounds like a skirmishing pack to me. Do you agree?"

[Warcry] "You'll likely be used as scouts for riskier missions as well," Warcry puts forth when Penny mentions skirmishing. Her voice is lower now that Hunter's left. No threats of tongue-eating. Tripoli is still playing with the hangar wall. "Particularly if your totem grants you greater luck the more dangerous the endeavor, if I understood you correctly."

A beat. "At least for awhile. The fate of the war can't rest on a pack whose totem might abandon them at the worst time ever." She shrugs one shoulder. "But I'm just guessing now."

Sinclair looks over and whistles sharply. Tripoli looks up, head swiveling on his neck, then turns his body to meet the direction he's facing. He rolls quickly back to Sinclair, but in a zig-zagging path, swaying side to side like someone on a motorcycle. His eee EEEE eee EEEE noises may even be imitations of an engine revving.

She looks back to Penny and Ivan as he's making his way over. "Just depends, though. Let me tag along sometimes when you all go out. I think the zany adventures of some lucky bastards would make excellent storytelling."

[Ivan] Ivan has no similar words of peace and no-harm-no-foul, no-hard-feelings. While he doesn't exactly glare after Hunter, he does look mildly disappointed as the Gnawer Ahroun departs. "Damn," he says. "I had a whole speech prepared about tolerance, tribal relations, and his nonstop Fangbashing. Welp."

A shrug, and he faces Penny again. And Sinclair.

"I agree. Scouting and skirmishing's probably best for us. And yeah, that's pretty much how she works, Rhya. She's Momentum, see, and you have to keep it going. You know the song. Harder, faster, better, stronger. Let it sit still too long and friction runs you down.

"Penny," back to the new Alpha, "there was some question about territory earlier. My suggestion on that: I'm actually pretty happy just doing Caern duty and going where we're needed as we're needed. If you guys want a packhouse to crash in though, I think it's the Fang's unofficial duty to foot that bill. If you're not looking for anything too fancy, I'll even put it in your name so when Momentum blows this joint you'll have something for the road."

[Warcry] Her eyes light up at harder faster better stronger. "I have a t-shirt that says that!" Beat. "It's actually harder better faster stronger, but that's pretty close."

There may as well be a pair of green plus signs over her head.

[Penelope] Sinclair's reaction to the lyric is excitement, and correction. Penny's is...mild confusion and a slight furrowing of her brows. Evidently she doesn't know the song. Which doesn't really mean anything. Not everyone's into Daft Punk.

Then her eyes close briefly and she gives her head a small shake. "I agree. I don't think we should run around acting like Momentum'll leave us at any second? But, in this case it'd be irresponsible to risk leaving an area fucked out of nowhere."

She pauses, though, tilting her chin up to scratch beneath it. "It'd be nice to have a bed again." Two weeks away and she's already missing the luxurious life she had at the Brotherhood. "Actually, that's a good point." She looks the Ragabash over, as if only now noticing the cut and quality of his clothes, and only now remembering that he is, in fact, a Silver Fang. "You probably don't want an old as hell station wagon parked outside your building. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a little place somewhere we could crash from time to time."

[Ivan] Ivan waves his hand dismissively. "Do you know how old I was in 2001? Twelve. It's testament to my excellent taste that I even know the song.

"Also, if Penny's all right with it, I'd be glad to have you aboard when we all go out. Out of gratitude for you not eating my tongue, and all."

[Warcry] Tripoli is swinging around Sinclair's legs again, which are planted wide enough now for him to wheel freely between as he uses her something like a maypole. She barely even seems to notice him, the way that some parents and petowners can, for a short period of time, ignore the antics of the small things they are responsible for.

She bats a hand right back at Ivan. Then, a few words later: "It's still a possibility. I'm pretty sure it'd grow back anyway."

[Penelope] "I'm all for it, actually," says Penny, taking a step back in preparation of going...somewhere. To the Ritemistress maybe, but that would require Ivan and perhaps Winston, and so far she hasn't made any mention of going omgrightthissecond.

"Ivan, I need to grab a bite. Unless you want to see the Ritemistress right now, we can meet up in a couple hours."

[Ivan] "I'll keep my mouth shut around you, then," Ivan retorts. "Protect my precious tongue. Very popular with the ladies, you know."

He grins, and then nods to Penny. "Sounds good. I'll go track Bleeding Heart-rhya down and see if she'll perform the rite for us in a couple hours. And, hey Penny?" Ivan waits for the Fury to look at him again. "I'm glad it worked out with us three, at least."

[Warcry] "Do that," Sinclair says mildly, bending to her numen as the soon-to-be packmates discuss when to bind themselves together. Winston is silent, still, perhaps saving his tongue for other conversations. The Galliard, for what it is worth, meant it earlier: that is all she had to say, and she is done. She pats Tripoli, and looks up. "Good luck to you," she says to them, with a trace of wryness.

An instant later she's in lupus again. Tripoli instantly flails his arms, tips over, levers himself up, and zooms away on that wheel of his, EEEEing shrilly into the night.

Warcry chuffs. And takes off after him.

[Penelope] At Very popular with the ladies Penny lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort, but closer to the former.

She tilts her head at the cheeky Ragabash, the one brave enough to mouth off not only to a Fostern, but to this particular Galliard. The one known for her swift brutality as well as her honor in battle. She studies Ivan for a second or two before her mouth curves into a slight smile. "Me, too. Now, I hear sometimes the Brotherhood serves rack of lamb. I think I'm going to see if those rumors are true. Good night, Warcry-rhya, and I'll see you in a couple of hours, Ivan."

When goodbyes are said and done, the tall, lanky Fury takes off for the Brotherhood, her boots crunching in the gravel.

[Penelope] [make that Wisdom!]