The first two levels are relatively open to each other, the second being only little wider than a catwalk going around all the walls but the front one, which has massive, twenty foot tall doors set into it. The third level is a true second floor except for a place cut out that allowed hay to be tossed down to the ground floor when the farm was actually worked. Now, it is a hayloft where Garou can sleep outside of the house.

Bloods-Bane rolls his eyes as the cub vaults against him. Dillen simply lets the hand go. The kick slaps against Dillen's leg and the Cliath growls. He jumps into the air to come down with his legs astride the cub, a flurry of fists aimed at the head and shoulders.

KevinWolf doesn't get a chance to move after landing, as he's pinned down by Dillen and whaled upon. With a snarl of defiance he uses his own fists to rain back an equal number of blows, albeit much less forcible and well-targeted, at the Get.

Bloods-Bane keeps punching at the other, punches getting harder and better aimed. One to the side of the head and one to Kevin's throat. He lets all of his weight crush down on the cub, still held up some by his knees on the ground, not trying to break anything, but still wanting to keep the cub trapped.

KevinWolf's own blows become steadily and inexorably more feeble as he's crushed down. His eyes are still furious and defiant but the strength isn't there any more. After several more seconds of punishment he lets his arms fall and in an instinctive gesture his head rolls sideways to expose his throat.

Bloods-Bane stays there for a moment and nods his head. He rises up from the other and reaches a hand down to pull up Kevin. Slowly, he melts back down into homid. "Not too bad. Not too bad. Leaving yourself open for a lot though, if you ask my opinion." His clothes are there and he breathes hard. "But not bad."

The sound of an engine from the lane probably goes unnoticed by the combatants, though the heavy sound of the large door moving on it's rollers is far closer, and far more immediately applicable. Nat steps sideways through the opening, closing it behind her again before even turning to give the barn a once-over.

KevinWolf sits up and shakes his head muzzily, the fire now gone from his eyes. He flexes his arms and legs as though to make sure that they're all still there and working. Then he too shrinks back into his original form, and as he reaches out for his clothing he gives Dillen an expressive but not overly negative look. "Thank you, Dillen-rhya," he says, formally.

Dillen reaches down and ruffles through his hair. "You're welcome. Anytime." As a grin comes over his face. "Natalie-Rhya. Greetings." He bows his head slightly, reaching for Kevin's clothes to hand them to him.

"Hello?" Nat calls curiously, heading for the voices. It's dark enough in the barn that she doesn't - can't - make any identification until she's fairly close to the others; when she does, it's with a polite nod for each of them in turn. "Dillen. Kevin. You guys busy in here? I was going to put in some time on the bag."

Kevin's head pops through the neckhole of his sweatshirt and he smiles to Natalie. "I think Dillen's finished with me..." he murmurs with a grin. "I certainly feel pretty finished."

Dillen shakes his head. "Was just helping Kevin out with his warform." Dillen runs a hand through his hair and heads for his leather jacket that sits on a hay bale. "I should get back to the brownstone, though." He turns to Kevin. "If you have any questions or anything... Let me know. I'll come check in on ya."

Natalie drops Dillen another nod as he makes his way out of the barn before turning back to Kevin. "Well if you need to heal up, you ought to stay in Glabro. You're not gonna heal squat-all in homid."

Kevin examines himself. "Don't think I've got anything worse than bruises. We were playing with velvet claws." He stands tentatively. "You doing okay?"

Natalie merely shrugs and tucks her thumbs into the front pocket of her jeans. "Doing all right, yeah. But even the bruises'd be gone in a second or two if you were in Glabro." She gives the teen a sharp, considering look. "How are you doing?'

"Glabro... that's where you go halfway to crinos and then stop?" Kevin queries. "Never tried that yet. Should I?" He looks at Natalie keenly. "I'm okay, I guess. Still pondering that suggestion you made about my dad..."

"Glabro's," Nat begins, only to be cut off by the boy's next statement. "--Oh yeah? I don't remember saying anything about yo... oh wait. Where he might not be your biological father?"

Kevin nods a little glumly. "You rocked my universe with that one. He's been my hero for so long... oh it sounds silly, but it felt like you were casting aspersions on his memory. Even though I know you weren't."

Natalie's face screws up apologetically. "Hell, I'm sorry. Look, my Pop -- the man who raised me -- I didn't know he wasn't my father either. Not until I was fourteen or so. It's rough to have to face that. I shouldn't've dropped that bomb on you. Not now."

"I don't suppose I shall ever know now," Kevin rejoinders. "And in a sense it doesn't actually matter. What matters is what I am, not how I got this way. But part of me really, really, wants to know now. And no time would have been better than another to be told," he adds. "Now was as good as any, with me already having my whole world view torn down and a new one erected on top of the rubble."

"Welcome to cubhood," Nat shrugs. "The next few months are gonna be just like it." She pauses, then adds, "So what've you learned since the last time I saw you? You still looking for a tribe?"

Kevin laughs, a tough ruefully. "Much the same as ever. The Get are kind of scary but they're such fighters. The Gnawers look after each other fiercely but they get looked down on so. Emma called me a Get of Gnawer the other day. Shame you can't pick and mix, isn't it? ...Now, about these bruises, and this Glabro..."

Natalie snorts good-naturedly at him. "This isn't a bag of Brach's, kiddo. And just 'cause the Gnawers cling to each other like rats doesn't mean the other tribes don't. Make your pick based on what the tribe stands for, not who you like. That's what your pack's for." A smirk for his continued pressing. "What about it? Haven't you been told about healing yet?"

"There's more to it than just that," Kevin hesitates, fumbling for words. "Healing? I was told that in the warform I'm able to heal a lot quicker, but I didn't know it applied to anything else as well..."

"Sure," Nat says easily. "Any time you're not in breed form you heal fast. For you, breed's homid. Obviously. Hell, if I had my gun I'd let you pop me one and show you. Any little thing - knife cut, broken bones, what have you - will heal in a few seconds. Even the big stuff, like fire, silver, and bites from other Garou or nasties like us will heal faster if you're not in breed."

Kevin's eyebrows rise. Evidently this is news to him. "That sounds like something out of Disney, but hell, let's give it a go. Can I go as far as Glabro without ripping my only clothes to rags?"

Kevin Lockwood is a somewhat gangling mid-teenage boy. Starting at the top and working down, he possesses a close crop of very dark brown hair that might be mistaken for black in some lights; a long Caucasian face with a rather large nose in the middle; brown eyes under heavy eyebrows; a downturned mouth, and a distinct Adam's apple. He either doesn't need to shave yet, or does so closely enough to have no visible stubble on his prominent chin. Below the neck, his body looks fairly fit, and is clad in a rather grubby blue sweatshirt and grey sweatpants, both of which are too big for him and the latter of which has to be hitched up every few seconds. He's barefoot. His legs seem a little long for his body, as though he's just undergone a growth spurt and his lower limbs reacted to the hormones before the rest of him.

Natalie eyes Kevin's consideringly for a few minutes. "Well, I dunno. Maybe. You can just take 'em off, though. --Or hell, hasn't anyone Dedicated those for you? They're crappy, but they'll do for now."

Kevin shakes his head. "Alicia-rhya said she would buy me some new ones and dedicate them but I've not seen her for over a week. These are the clothes Helen found me after my own ones got shredded in my first change. They're pretty stinky. I don't get much chance to wash them, and when I do I have to sit round in a blanket."

Natalie whistles under her breath, then clicks her tongue. "Well, I'm sure they have to have other clothes around here, right? That's where they got those, anyway. If you want we can go look to see if we can find something better, otherwise I can Dedicate those for you, or whatever."

Kevin considers his options. "Whatever's easiest. Is the dedication very complicated? I've heard about rites and rituals, but not seen one yet, obviously, of any description. And if Alicia comes back with some newer clobber, can they be... replaced?"

Natalie frees her right hand long enough to waggle it so-so. "Eh. Takes about ten minutes to do. It's not much of a biggie. And sure, they can be replaced, no sweat. I've gone through about three, four sets of Dedicated in the last year. Some get trashed, some - well, I'd shiver myself to death wearing a tanktop in January, even if this isn't 'real' cold. You decide you want the Metallica tee instead of the pink polo, no problem."

Kevin laughs. "Well, want to go for it, in that case? I'd kind of like a track suit again in the end, but I do hate having to strip down to the nip every time I'm about to go crinos because I'll burst out of them like the Hulk otherwise.

"You don't want to make me angry," the Walker quips dryly as she frees her thumbs. "Well, you are going to have to strip down one last time. Lay everything - and I mean everything you want Dedicated on the floor and I'll go to. --You can shift to lupus, or something, if you're modest."

Kevin slides out of his sweatshirt again. "Lupus? I've never managed to get that far," he admits frankly. "Crinos, yes. But never beyond. What do you mean 'everything'? Oh! ...you mean wristwatches and things? I've not got mine any more. That went in first change too. And I've never been one for jewelery."

Natalie erms and looks up from where she's fishing around in a front pocket. "Well, no, actually. I meant underwear. Watches are hard to do. So's anything overly mechanical. Clothes are simple. You see?"

Kevin gives a disarming smile. "I've been going commando ever since I've been here. Helen didn't find me any y-fronts or boxers or anything. I'll live with it."

Natalie blinks at him, remarking, "That's gotta chafe," before pulling the well-known red oblong of a Swiss Army Knife out of her front pocket. "All right, crinos then. Or glabro. There's two more besides - hispo, and lupus. Lupus looks just like a wolf, and hispo is the big honking wolf. Think prehistoric cave painting."

Kevin slides out of his leggings and adds them to the pile. "I know the theory, just not the practice," he clarifies. "It's being a new-moon that makes shifting a real effort, apparently. Let's see if I can work out how not to go all the way to crinos... Grrrr. Dillen beat up on me. Bite him. Grrrrr. Teach him a lesson, not to mess...." His brow furrows, but apart from that he remain unchanged.

Natalie's in no hurry to start the rite, apparently: she just watches the cub and tosses the knife in her hand, not giving his nakedness a first glance, much less a second. "That might not do it. See, you get too mad and you're just gonna go straight to crinos. Near-man," the woman slips easily into lecture mode, the way some people slip on black ice, "is gonna give you muscles. Think Neandertal. Think big. Bulky. You want a demonstration model?"

Kevin suppresses a snigger. The cub is definitely built more for speed and grace than for muscles and mayhem in homid form. "If you think it'll help... please do," he invites, brow still furrowed as he tries to visualize himself in that form. "I kind of understood it was a halfway mark on the way to Crinos, but maybe that was Trevor oversimplifying."

Natalie hems and haws, then shrugs. "It's called 'near-man' for a reason, same as hispo is 'near-wolf'. Here, lemme show you." With that little for warning she starts to shift, clearly taking her time. Muscles bunch and flex, bones stretching and thickening. When she's done she's easily some six inches taller and quite a bit heavier, her voice at least half-an-octave deeper. "See? Glabro."

Kevin watches in fascination as Nat swells up like a slow-motion film into a burly menacing figure looming over him. He furrows his brow harder still as he imagines himself, musclebound and hulking, in an equivalent shape. But his body remains resolutely in its normal form.

Natalie adds, the suddenly much-smaller knife thocking into her palm, "Not good for talking. This good for hitting." When the boy still can't seem to get it she frowns and lobs the knife to land on his clothes. "Try crinos. Then come down from there."

Kevin nods and focuses on his anger again. Perhaps because he's not long come down from crinos, he finds it much easier to see in his mind's eye himself in the war form, towering, rampaging.... and then he swells up, changes, and crinosses. A toothsome smile spreads itself over his wolven features. "Now," he growls thickly, and his brow furrows once more in concentration, an ugly phenomenon in this form. A few seconds of silence, and then the cub shrinks again... and he whoops as he achieves his aim at last.

Kevin (Glabro)
A burly, hulking figure, well over six feet high and topped with a shock of dark hair atop a face with hostile intent carved in its features. Between the face and the strongly muscled body, the general impression is of a thuglike man, not one to meet in a dark alley by night. His hands and feet in particular appear huge even for one this size, and his fingers curl as though they cannot wait to be doing some mischief.

Natalie gives him a thumb's up in lieu of more vocal congratulations and shifts back down to homid, far more swiftly than before. "There you go, kiddo. Glabro's most useful in the dark, or when they can't really see what they're going for. Otherwise stick to homid or crinos. You wanna try for lupus while I work on your clothes? I'm gonna need you at some point for some blood, but not just yet."

Kevin takes a few cautious paces, getting the feel for this form. "If it's all the same... I'd sooner have more of a build up to going lupus. It's kind of silly, but I've had so many dreams about being in that form... even before I knew what I was... I'd like to be in the right frame of mind when it finally comes to having four legs." He walks on, turns, comes back, big heavy feet leaving footprints in the dirt floor of the barn.

Natalie only shrugs and crouches beside his clothes to lay them out as though he'd decided to have a bit of a lie down and then dissolved, leaving the clothes behind. "Occupy yourself for a bit. Maybe try shifting through the three forms to get used to it. Oh - and when I say your name - it's Kevin Lockwood, right? - I'll need you over here so I can get your blood. Homid for that, please, so you don't heal up faster than I need, but after that it's all you again."

Kevin paces on, nodding, and noting with pleasure that his bruises from the sparring with Dillen are definitely feeling less sore. "Got you," he nods, and comes to a halt, stretching and doing a few loosening-up exercises, testing the new form. He seems not displeased with it.

Meanwhile Natalie turns her attention to his clothing, muttering under her breath, touching the clothes, beseeching the air. Long minutes pass - perhaps eight or nine by Kevin's long-lost watch - before she says clearly, "Kevin Lockwood," adding, "Dark moon's trickster child," before looking around to locate the boy. Expectant.

Kevin has occupied the time in pacing, practicing sliding up to crinos and down to homid. After a few minutes he seems to have got the knack of the homid-to-glabro move too, and he's back in glabro when his name is called. He trots over, takes a deep breath, and in the wink of an eye he returns to his birth form. He fixes his eyes on Nat, expectant, nervous, bright.

Natalie snaps her fingers twice and extends a hand toward him. Her other hand holds her knife, the longest blade open and shiny even in the dim light of the barn. When he gives her his hand she slices across the ball of his thumb in a single, swift movement. Blood wells up immediately, his reflexive pull away prevented by the firm grasp of her hand. She doesn't give him or his pain another look, but with two fingers dabs the wound and the clothing, her murmuring starting up again. Where she marks the blood seems almost to shimmer, dissolving into the cloth with a fleeting rainbow. Three times she touches each article of clothing before releasing him and grinning at her work. "Well there you go, then. All done."

Kevin bites his lower lip with the pain, but soon forgets it as he watches the shimmery effect as the liquid touches the clothing. "That's... done? I can just put 'em back on and now they stay with me?" He seems slightly stunned that it's all over already.

Natalie glances over, her eyes flicking from the still-bleeding hand up to his face. "Shift up, kiddo," she advises. "Or else you're gonna get your clothes all nasty. And this time it won't just disappear. But yeah, that's it. It's a damn useful Rite." The Galliard stands, jerking her head from side to side to hear her neck pop. "No more dancing around in your all together. Well, unless you want to."

Kevin laughs, and only has to concentrate for the briefest of brow-furrowing moments before he begins to loom in glabro again. As he does so the knife-cut slowly but steadily heals over into a scab, and then the scab is gone. He licks the place where it was tentatively. "Nice work," he applauds. "You've been good."

One side of Nat's face lifts in a half-grin. "Thanks, kiddo. --See? I could stick you in the heart with this thing," she gestures with the knife before snapping the blade closed, "and you'd heal it up. Just like that. One of the bennies of being one of Gaia's chosen, hey?"

Kevin lets out a sudden exuberant whoop and runs round the barn out of sheer joy to be alive and one of Gaia's chosen, only stopping when he skids in the dirt and loses his balance, rolling over on the ground, evidently still not quite used to the glabro shape yet. He sits up again with a silly grin on his face which might have been cute in homid, but in this form, would scare most non-garou.

Natalie can't help but laugh despite the moon. "Good gods, kid, you are a Ragabash, aren't you? Now attractive as those goosebumps are, come getcher clothes on. Blue just isn't your color. Then you can pester me with more questions, if you've got 'em."

Kevin fades back into Homid, almost reluctantly. "Shall we go indoors?" he asks as he regains a modicum of decency. "There should be coffee in the pot still, unless Joey and Dillen drank it all."

Natalie backs away from the clothing to assist him with his modicum and shrugs off-handedly. "If you want. It's not all that cold out here. I still want to get in some work on the heavy bag, since the one I've got at home isn't set up yet."

Kevin shrugs. "Cool, it can wait, I've had some before you got here. All garou seem to drink coffee by the bucket. Must be where they get their rage from, it's caffeine fueled." He grins again, less scarily now he's back in homid. "I could always clear out and let you get your exercise, which is doubtless why you came here in the first place rather than to help out waifs, strays and cubs."

Natalie only shrugs again. "Helping you out's as much of my job as working on the bag. The more you learn and the faster you learn it, the faster you can Rite, right? Anyway, I'll admit to an ulterior motive. I'm trying to woo you into joining the Walkers. I think you'd be an asset to the Tribe."

Kevin smiles. "You know, you're the first one from any tribe who's actually come out and said that in as many words. I'm pretty sure Olga wants me for a Gnawer, and the Get have been sniffing at me to be one of their jolly little sunbeams, but you're the first to put it on the line." He walks a couple of paces closer. "As you said yourself though, it's not about who you like, it's about deeper things than that..."

"You're quick, you know the city - well, -a- city, and you think with your head, not your fists," Nat explains, blue eyes fixed on him. "I can't see you going all feral and tossing away the idea of three squares a day so you can play campground for the rest of your life, or spend it as a baglady -- or street bum. The city's where the battle is, Kevin, where Gaia needs you most. The Wyld has plenty of tribes looking out for it. All the City has is us."

Kevin listens, and nods from time to time. "I won't say no," he admits as she concludes. "I'm not exactly a city slicker myself, more a small town rebel. You won't have heard of Yeovil, I suppose, which is my home town... it's pretty but not exactly a hive of industry or technology. Apart from a couple of London trips St Clair is about the biggest city I've ever been to." He looks thoughtful, evidently turning Nat's words over and over in his mind.

Natalie shifts her weight onto one hip, her thumbs migrating back to her front pockets. "Yeah, but you didn't run screaming from it, either. The City's got a life of its own, a pulse, a heartbeat. It's alive, as much as any forest. The other tribes'd tell you that the city's a cancer, a blight. I say that it's as much a part of Gaia as any forest glade, and that it needs as much tending. The city goes to pot, and who do you think sets up shop? It ain't the Wyld, I can tell you that much. You've been in them, I'm sure - those crappy parts of town no one lives in by choice. Places where it doesn't matter how much the sun shines, it's still dark and dank and filthy. If we don't clean them up they'll spread, and then there will be problems. The other tribes don't seem to see that, though. They think the whole thing is rotted, and it isn't."

Natalie adds with a persuasive lilt, "I'm sure you've seen those pictures of the New York skyline at night, all lit up and glowing. There's beauty there too, for those who take the time to look."

Kevin rubs his chin in thought. "Cancer? Blight? What do they propose doing, burning them all down and planting trees again? And then where will everyone live? Up the trees in bijou apartments?" He shakes his head. "You have to have a realistic strategy. And yes, I know just what you mean about the no go zones in town. I found one myself the hard way back on the solstice, and it's why I'm here. If I'd not been the target of muggers I might've not undergone first change till I was back in England..."

"And maybe you would've flipped out on the plane," Nat retorts, though teasingly. "Don't get too bogged down in what-ifs and I-shoudas, Kevin. What happened, happened. Gaia wanted you to be here, so here you are. Concentrate on that, not what might-have-been. Look to the future, remember?"

Kevin winces at the thought. "First change on a plane? Try and sew up THAT veil breach, hah?" He nods. "I actually figured that out for myself. Gaia could have Changed me back home. She didn't. Hence I'm here, hence I'm meant to be here, hence I'd better make sure I do what I'm here for. And once I work it out I will. Which is why I'm taking such care over tribe-choosing. Capische?" He holds out his hands, palms up, to Nat. "I don't want to mess the whole thing up by running with the Coggies when I should have been walking with the Striders or vice versa."

"Capische," she replies, using the Italian easily. "There's ways to change your mind later, but it's generally frowned upon. Just remember what I said about how you'd be an asset." She levels a 'gun' of thumb and forefinger at the boy. "Think about it. We've got another cub for a few more weeks, but he's going to Rite soon. After that we'll have plenty of time to concentrate on you, just you, only you."

Kevin laughs. "I'll think about it, I promise. But I think I do need that coffee now. I still ache a bit, even with the marvelous magical healing powers of glabro, and you look about fit to burst if you don't get that bag-punching in." He steps right up to Nat. "Whatever happens, whether I choose Walker or Get or Gnawer or another, I want you to know that I respect you, I'm grateful for the guidance you've given, and once I'm finally rited and out there fighting the good fight... if I'm not in your tribe, I won't come and burn your city down round your ears, I promise." His face splits into a warm, genuine smile. "I thought for the first few weeks I was going to be completely wretched here... you're one of those who's shown me the good side of being one of Gaia's warriors. Thank you."

Natalie returns the smile. "You're welcome, kiddo. --Kevin. Just don't pick the Shadow Lords," she adds in that same warm tone, "Or I'll hunt you down and gut you. Now go get your coffee. I'll see you around."

Kevin raises one eloquent eyebrow. "I'm not counting them out till I've got to talk to them," he says, in a slightly more serious tone, "but your statement is noted. Now, give that poor little bag the drubbing of its life, eh?" With those words he swings round and saunters out of the barn and back to the farmhouse, hoping there is some coffee left in the pot.

[End of log]