Currently the moon is in the waning New Moon phase (15% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.74 and steady, and the relative humidity is 89 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)

A door in the gate on the southern side of the courtyard exits back to the sidewalks of the township.

The front gate door is opened to show Megan standing there, dressed in jeans so old, they're nearly bleached nearly white, a predominately green/black/white plaid shirt with the shirttails hanging out, and a pair of black sheepskin slippers protecting bare feet from both the cold and the rain that falls lightly from the sky. She is a second taking in Natalie's appearance before she steps aside, with an amiable, "Come in. I have water hot for tea."

Natalie's wearing her usual bomber jacket over black jeans and black cowboy boots, hands tucked into the pockets and elbows held flat against her sides. She's a little damper than could be expected from the short distance across the yard. "Tea'd be great. Thanks." She ducks her head as she clumps inside, offering a friendly, "Looks like the rain's letting up a little," as she passes the Philodox. "--Boots on, or off?"

Megan seems to consider as she looks up and down the lengthwise front hallway, towards the kitchen to the left, finally saying. "Doesn't matter," before she heads into the kitchen herself, shucking her slippers for real bare feet. "Cream or sugar?" she offers, removing the kettle from the stove to pour.

Natalie uhs as she delays in the hallway, leaning against the wall to tug off each boot in turn. "Depends. What kind? If it's a Breakfast, I'll take cream. Green, nada. Earl Grey, yes please, and lots."

"Irish Breakfast," Megan provides. "Decaf, given the time. Raaafe!" she says, raising her voice and drawling the name out slightly to turn it into an attention-call rather than a warning. "Tea's ready, and Natalie's here," she says in the vague-ish direction of the front hall and the rest of the house, before turning back to preparing the tea, adding cream to each cup and sugar to two of them.

A few seconds later Nat appears in the doorway, jacket hanging open to reveal a black turtleneck underneath. Her socks are bright Caribbean blue, however, entirely destroying her ninja look. "That'll be great. Thanks." A hesitation and she pads further into the room, glancing about her curiously. "Had a good weekend?"

"I've had worse," Megan replies convivially to the nicety, as Rafe emerges through the doorway behind the Philodox--slightly taller, lankier, blond-haired and green-eyed, and dressed in similar casualness as the Garou Fianna. When he spies Natalie, he gives her an infectious grin and says in an Irish accent, "You must be Natalie. Nice to meet you at last," he says, offering his hand out to the Glass Walker.

"Natalie Baker," the Galliard replies, padding forward to exchange grips. "Likewise. I hate to, um, interrupt your Sunday night. Are you watching the game or anything?"

"Were," Rafe replies, before claiming one of the mugs of tea along with a kiss to his wife's cheek, while Megan adds, "It's been over for a short while, and the Patriots won again," she says, sounding pleased. "Nice to meet you, Natalie," Rafe says with a slight wave, heading back towards the door on the opposite side of the kitchen, "I'll leave you two to talk, I have grading to do."

"Go team," Nat agrees pleasantly, tossing Rafe a two-fingered salute as he heads off again. Once Rafe's gone she waits another few seconds before admitting, low-voiced, "--I didn't remember that it was even on until late this afternoon. Signe and I were doing some patrolling."

"You're not from the East," and Megan's voice gives it the upper case, "I'm not surprised. So," she says pleasantly, offering out the lone unsugared, creamed mug to the Galliard across the breakfast bar divider, and claiming the last mug of tea for herself, "you wanted to talk to me?"

Natalie says, "--Yeah," as she picks up the mug, wrapping her fingers around it. A sigh, and she repeats, "Yeah. I've got a report from David and a complaint. Which one do you want first?"

"David?" the Fianna queries without comprehension, at first, but it comes to her a second or two later, realization registering. "Oh," she says, suddenly wary. "David first."

"Right-ho," Nat agrees cheerfully enough, hoisting the mug at Megan and blowing on the contents. "So... I get a call from David on Thursday." She pauses to think, then nods. "Yeah, Thursday morning, actually. He said he thought he had a way to solve the problem without any bloodshed. Basically, he'd imported this other mage and they're gonna play Jedi master on the gang. You know, 'these are not the Garou you are looking for'? He wanted to make sure we wouldn't then go ahead and attack these essentially helpless people after he did that."

"It'll depend," Megan responds in a speaking voice just shy of a mutter after a handful of seconds. "On whether or not he and his friend can guarantee they really did the job right."

Natalie, caught in the middle of a sip, slurps her tea and nods hastily. "Exactly what I asked him. He said they'd know if it worked because, well, they'd know if it worked, essentially. Something about brain waves and being able to read them. He also said that our two special snowflakes had been joined by another."

Megan's expression furrows into one of incomprehension. "Pardon?" she asks for clarification.

Natalie hesitates with a nervous baring of her teeth. "Where'd I lose you?"

A pause, before Megan says, "What's a special snowflake?"

Natalie ohs and clears her throat, an embarrassed little 'ahem'. "--Sorry. Um, it's on this news group I read. Basically, it rags on people who think they get special treatment for... anyway. I'm just using it for these two... whatevers he's picked out." She shoots the Alpha a quick, hurried look from under her lashes. "I did tell you about the two whatevers, right? When I gave you the rundown of what the place looks like on the inside?"

"Possibly," Megan replies. "It's been a few weeks since then. So, there's another one. Is this going to affect whatever it is David and his friend are going to do?"

Natalie shakes her head, delaying her answer until she's managed another sip - this one without slurping. "He says it won't. The only thing - he says this imported Mage is a relative of ours. Dunno whose, or if she's even attached to anyone here. So then he felt he needed to get all threatening again over her safety." The Galliard cocks her head then, eyes alight. "I just realized. I don't know - not for sure - if David is male or female, but he said flat out that this other one is female. Could still be a lie, sure, but that might be a handle on tracking them if we need to do that."

"Wendigo," Megan provides tersely, continuing in a tone to shut down questions about it. "I know of her." Without waiting for Natalie to react, she goes on. "If David contacts you again, tell her he has his time, but I will give no promises that we won't go in if I feel the threat requires it, or if I don't feel confident when it's all over that the threat really has been nullified. And I want to know more about these 'snowflakes'. I want to know why he feels it's important enough to have mentioned it to you," she finishes, leveling a glance at Natalie while although not heavy, is meant to stress the gravity of the 'request'.

Natalie unconsciously bares her teeth again at the Tribe's name. When she realizes what she's done she immediately drops her eyes with an embarrassed little grimace. "I told him I'd set up a call after I'd had time to think about it. Should I give him a deadline? A couple of weeks?" More tea washes down enough of her mortification that she can look up again -- just in time to catch the Philodox's meaningful glance. "Yes ma'am," she says immediately. "All I can tell you now is what he told me the first time: they're keeping to themselves, they seem to be stronger than the other gang members. They're different somehow, but he doesn't know how. He says they're not Garou or mages, and he doesn't think they're vampires either. I told him it'd be likely -- that there'd be a good chance we'd kill the Snowflakes anyway."

"No," Megan replies. "No deadline. Just ask them to do it as soon as possible. It seems it's as important to them that this be taken care of as us. A deadline will sound like a threat. Either they'll get it done quickly, or I'll run out of patience and we'll go in anyway. What's with the teeth baring?" she asks, veering the topic off.

Natalie clears her throat again, both hands still wrapped around her half-empty mug. "--Wendigo. That's the complaint part, if you've got everything you want about David."

"For now," the Philodox says, putting the topic of David on hold, rather than at an end. "Go on about the complaint. But, I should be fair, and let you know I've spoken to Jacinta. I want to hear your side of things," she offers fairly, moving backwards away from Natalie but only so she can lean fractionally against the edge of the U-shaped counter near the doorway to the dining room, the tea mug cradled in her right hand, while her left is tucked under her right elbow.

Natalie grimaces again and stares morosely into her mug. "I was hoping to get to you first. ...But. Jacinta. So you remember the last time we spoke, you told me she wanted to talk to me." She glances up, as if looking for a nod from the other woman, but continues without waiting for it, "Since every time she wants to speak to me it's to rip me a new one, and 'cause she was a little worked up at Moot, I waited until last week to go see her. Just after half, in fact."

Megan's eyebrow lifts in reaction at the 'wanting to talk to her first' part, a slight frown of disapproval pulling down the corners of her mouth, but eyebrow and mouth smooth out as the Glass Walker continues on, the nod coming at the end, and rather than speaking, she lifts the mug up to sip from it, not interrupting.

Natalie continues with her tale, eyes fastened onto the dining room past Megan's shoulder, "So I get out there, feeling pretty good from my run, and the first thing she tells me is that her kin aren't Walker slaves. And a nice good evening to you too, Jacinta. I agree that they aren't, and she goes on to lay our these... really freaking weird rules for how, when, and where I'm supposed to jump through hoops when it comes to talking to Harold. Whose name she never mentions, by the way. Nothing for him, mind -- just when he contacts me, I'm supposed to drop everything I'm doing, trot my little patootie out to the bawn and find her and report in. Before doing anything else. Only..." She takes in a breath, lets it out.

"What?" Megan prompts as she trails off.

"Only," she continues after the breath, "She doesn't actually say that, not until I've tried a couple other options for trying to figure out what the... what it is she's actually asking me to do. I'm trying to work with her, because yeah, I screwed up in asking Harold for his help with the Veil Breech. This whole thing started when he asked Havoc for help. I figure Jacinta knew I'd been talking to him, working with him. So anyway, I tell her I can't just drop everything whenever I get a phone call, and ask if there's some leeway in reporting. If it can be later that day, in a couple of days, whatever. She gets all snippy about how she doesn't have any clock except the sun and the moon, and how I'm supposed to use my best judgment. Well screw that - I'd just been reamed for using my best judgment! I was trying to get some guidelines for what exactly she was asking and what I had to work with."

Natalie blows out another breath, has a couple of calming swallows of her tea. "So I point that out to her, and she flips. Starts going on about how he's her kin and how I'm not to look at him, talk to him, speak of him. Says I'm not to contaminate him with my," another breath, and she drops her eyes to her tea again, "'qussaq Urrah' ways. I say fine, that from then on I'll ignore his calls and pretend he doesn't exist. I got back to the city and spread the word to Havoc and all the Walkers, and put that note in the farmhouse about how Jacinta didn't want anyone talking to or about him." She pauses long enough to indicate that her tale is told and looks up to meet the Philodox's eyes. "That's my complaint - he's one of the best leads we've got to fixing this damn Veil Breech. I can't spend half my day running out here to play hide and seek with Jacinta any time he so much as looks at me cross-eyed. I'm not - I wasn't asking Harold to do anything dangerous. Everything he did he was within his rights as City Council to look into. If I'd thought he was in any danger, I wouldn't have asked him to do anything. I'm treating him like he was one of my own."

"But he's not," Megan says equably. "And now because you brought it up, I need to ask you a question intended to make you think. How is what she's doing, the root of her reaction being that Mr. Smiskin is Wendigo Kinfolk, different than yours and Marcus's reactions when Yi killed that leech, Ebony? What was it you said 'He's our Kinfolk, no one had any business dealing with him except us'."

"That's the thing," Nat says earnestly, setting her mug down on the counter with a muted clunk. "Yeah, I was wrong about that. Mea culpa." She thumps a fist into her heart. "I apologized. I wasn't going to, but I realized that I'd have kittens if anyone tried that with Jon. That's not the point. Point is, I was trying to work with her and figure out what the hell she wanted me to do. Every time I'd suggest something she'd flip out until it ended up with this see no-, hear no-, speak no-Kin thing. She said that's not what she wanted, but she wouldn't tell me what she did want. So..." Her hands free, she runs clawed fingers through her hair, grimacing frustration. "I guess I want a Philodox, someone who can, who can work with us so we can both get what we need."

Natalie adds, "Not this 'I'm taking all my toys and going home' schtick she's doing."

Megan sniffs with mild amusement. "Ironically, you have a Philodox, and one who already told Jacinta I'd be talking to you about sorting this out. What it sounds like to me, is classic miscommunication. Your point of view, days later and time to think, is vastly different than her point of view, days later and time to think. Ahroun, Galliard, Rage, and a moon still bigger than it is now. Truth is, it sounds like she might've been okay had you not posted that note in the farmhouse." Her left hand goes up in a 'stop' motion before any protests might come out. "I know what kind of Galliard you are, Natalie, and I'm sure you had the best intentions. But it was salt in the paper cut of her wounded honor. Which is not me saying you were wrong. Only giving you the facts."

Natalie flings her hands up again, aborting the high-flying at her shoulder and slapping them against her thighs instead. "See? She said to not talk to Harold, and to keep my... well, she keeps pronouncing 'qussaq' like it means 'dog shit' hands off him. I figured that it went for the rest of the whole damn Sept, not just the Walkers. You see? She doesn't tell me what she wants, and when I blunder about without a clue trying to do it, she has a conniption!"

"Natalie, shut up," Megan says pleasantly, but with that hint of authority. "You were both angry. 'Anger' and 'rational conversation' doesn't mix. And it affected what both of you were hearing from the other."

Natalie clamps her jaws closed, her expression sulky, but nods reluctantly.

Megan's posture may be remarkable for the ease she continues to convey, in her untucked shirt, bare feet and jeans, the tea mug held casually upraised in one hand, her voice easy in the face of Natalie's agitation. "Jacinta, like several other younger Garou I've met in my time, myself included," she says with self-directed amusement, "has an overdeveloped sense of their personal honor, and seems very quick to take offense to what she sees at slights. Rather than realizing personal honor is just that -- personal. But," she goes on with a slightly bigger sigh, "there's not much I can do to teach her that, she'll have to learn it. At this point, she's feeling offended by what she sees as you lying, saying you spoke for her in that note, and you feel offended because you were just trying to do the right thing and feel like you got your nose snapped off for the effort. That sound about right?"

Natalie keeps her lips pursed but nods after a second. "--That's what she told me to do - not have anything to do with him. I figured if one Urrah was off-limits, the whole pack of us was. Best way to spread the word is at the farmhouse. So that's what I did."

"She told you not to have anything to do with him," Megan says, stressing the personal pronoun. "But she did not actually say anything about anyone else, did she?"

Natalie 'combs' her hair again, with only one hand this time. "--No," she reluctantly admits. "But then again she wasn't exactly helpful in telling me what she did want me to do. Maybe I overstepped my bounds, but I don't see how I could have known what she did want. Only me? Only the Walkers? Only Havoc? Only Urrah? Only us paleskins?"

"You," Megan repeats. "She really did mean just you," she elaborates in a gentle voice. "Although, in speaking to her a few days later, she's expanded that to the rest of the Glass Walkers. She says you're the only one she knows, but she doesn't trust you, right now, given the problems you two were having in talking and the follow-up note, to correctly interpret her intentions or with Mr. Smiskin or any of the rest of her Kinfolk, and since you're the only Glass Walker she knows, she doesn't trust them with the rest of them, either. Unless, I guess, they go out and talk to her firsthand and she agrees she can trust them. However," she goes on, the words quietly stressed along with a pause to stress it further, "I told her that it was unreasonable of her to leave her Kinfolk without any contacts or possible protection in the city, especially right now during this crisis and with all the Wendigo acting as Guardians. She said she trusts Signe," and there's only a little touch of flatness to her tone at the Get of Fenris's name. "And possibly others, although she didn't name them. So, Havoc will not be completely without contact with him."

"I wouldn't trust Jon with any Wendigo, so I guess we're even," Nat returns flatly. "It's still stupid - I'm a Galliard, dammit. I talk to people. I spread information. But if this is another case of 'Let's all watch Natalie screw up', then I guess I'll have to swallow my pride." She drops Megan a tight little nod and catches up her mug again, glancing around the kitchen. "Thanks for listening, anyway."

Megan shrugs her right shoulder. "So you made a mistake," she says evenly. "Personally, I think you both screwed up, but neither one of you were wrong. Build a bridge. Get over it. Part of Wisdom is being able to admit when you've made a mistake and learn from it. It's about learning temperance and prudence. Stop acting like everyone's out to get you or just waiting for you to fail, because it's unbecoming a Garou who thinks they're ready to Challenge for the rank of Fostern, and may be... soon," she says after a trailing off pause. "As for listening?" Megan says, mood lightening with another shrug and a faint grin. "I'm a Philodox, dammit," she echoes intentionally, "I mediate."

Natalie turns, her mug still in her hand, and leans one hip against the counter. "--So? How can I build a bridge? I'm willing to work with her rules now that she's finally set them down - I won't even mention his name after tonight. And since compromise is the art of making sure everyone's unhappy, I guess we both win - I don't get to talk to an information source, she has to let him talk to non-Wendigo. But I don't see how I can build a bridge from that. Or even lay down some paving stones. That's why I came to you for help, Megan-rhya. I'm more than half-tempted to insist you come along every time we have to talk so you can translate, or something."

"Oh, good Lord, no," Megan says earnestly, flashing a quick there-and-gone smile to take the edge off her voice. "The bridge comment was intended as a metaphor, but I think the first stone would be for both of you to apologize to one another. And that, I will broker if you're willing -- formally, if you'd like, via a Rite of Contrition."

Natalie cocks her head at that. "--Run that one past me again? You're - we're more formal here than we were back in the Cities. Are you saying you want me to learn the Rite of Contrition and do it for Jacinta and she'll do the same? Or you'll do the Rite and we'll both..." She hesitates looking as though she's considering and discarding several options to settle on, "apologize to each other? I don't know the Rite, I don't know how it works. Never been that lucky, I guess."

"I'm saying if you want to be formal about it," Megan clarifies, "I can run it for both of you."

Natalie nods once but keeps silent, her fingers drumming against her empty mug. "--Guess it can't hurt," she offers after a few moments of silence. "And... I wouldn't mind learning the Rite, either. It'll probably come in handy. If you're willing to teach me, that is."

"It's usually a rite of the Philodox," is Megan's reply. "For obvious reasons. I might be willing to teach it to Marcus if Marcus asks." She drains her mug of tea, then asks, "Any other news?"

Natalie thinks for a second before shaking her head. "Nope, nothing from me. Nothing I haven't already said at Moot or been passing around. I'll get in contact with David and tell him he and his imported Mage have free rein with what they're going to try, but if it takes too long - and 'too long' is at your discretion - then we're going in with guns blazing. Did I get it right?"

"Yep," Megan says, "And if I think they've screwed us over, then there will be consequences." She gets a sudden shifting in her expression, before she asks cautiously, "When you talked to him, did he ask for anything in return for doing this?"

Natalie hesitates again, but shakes her head. "No. Other than I got the feeling this was a 'goodness of his heart' thing. He wants to keep St. Claire off the radar, and is willing to help us keep the Veil to do it. Makes sense - if we get people in here who know what we are, chances are they're gonna spread their net wide enough to catch some of the other things that go bump in the night."

"Good," Megan says a touch relieved. "Because the Wendigo Kinfolk also gave no price, and I had no intention of giving him anything if he had." She pushes herself out of her lean to take Natalie's mug, depositing both empties in the sink. "I'll walk you out. Thank you for coming by tonight."

"Thanks for listening," the Walker repeats, both sounding and looking sincere. "Let me know when and where for the Rite - if you can give me a day's notice, that'd be best. I'm working on our side of the Safehouse now, and there's some projects that can't just be left for a couple of hours. I'll do what I can, of course, but having me frazzled won't be the best frame of mind for apologies." She offers over a wry smile. "And please say goodbye to Rafe for me. I'll walk myself out, OK?"

Megan shrugs, saying, "I'm going that way anyway," as she walks the Galliard back to the front door. Past the front door, the front hall continues running parallel to the wall the front door is in to another hallway which is presumably the bedrooms. "Given it'd probably take a day to coordinate, not a problem. I'll try to get in to see the safehouse as soon as I can, I'm sorry I haven't been in to town sooner to see it."

Natalie shrugs and leans against the wall to pull on her left boot. "It's only gotten finished in the last week. We're still looking for furnishings, so right now it's a lot of mostly-empty rooms. But sure, stop by any time. You know the drill." Another small smile and she pantomimes ringing a door bell.

[End of log]