Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (23% full).

A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there.

Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house.

Natalie lets Signe enter, ducking her head to her Alpha as the woman passes. Kevin's already here, in the living room, a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table. "Gunnar couldn't make it?"

Kevin sits by the coffee table, hunched over some, both hands clenched into nervous fists. Either to calm himself, or to pass the time, he's singing one of his many cherished Bob Dylan songs softly to himself, almost under his breath. "Now you would not think to look at him, but he was famous long ago, for playing the electric violin on Desolation Row..." he whines softly and nasally to himself as the Get elder makes her entrance.

Signe makes her way in, looking around at the new accommodations. Eventually her eyes fall heavily on Kevin, dark and calculating. "No," she answers the Walker elder, even as she keeps her gaze on the cub. "Besides, I've heard what he has to say, already. This is between me and the cub."

"You and the cub, or you and the cub's past life?" asks Natalie politely enough, though Kevin might - if he's looking at her and not the Get - recognize a few faint signs of stress in her white-rimmed nostrils and pressed-together lips. "If you want to talk to Hjalmar, we'll need to go down to the basement, or upstairs. "

Kevin cuts off his singing in the middle of a line and gives Signe a polite nod of greeting, if rather an exaggerated one, eyes well downcast from her face. At Natalie's words his lips go white for a second or two before resuming their normal hue. He says not a word, so far.

Signe gives Natalie a sharp glance, as if the question itself irritated her. She nonetheless answers. "Mostly, I want to talk to the kid," She says, returning her gaze to Kevin. "But I need to talk to this... Hjalmer too, so we better go downstairs."

Nat inclines her head to Signe - she's certainly not this stiffly polite when she's around Thomas, or Tu - and leads the way down to the common area's basement, flicking on the lights at the top of the stairs. The basement is little more than a large dank concrete box, hot water heater and furnace lurking together in the near corner.

Kevin rises to his feet, fists still balled tightly, looking at neither elder as he takes evenly paced steps to the basement door and down the stairs. "Will the other cub be okay?" he asks as he reaches the bottom, just as the two elders might have started to wonder whether he'd forgotten how to speak.

Signe seems unaware of 'the other cub'. She gives Natalie an inquiring look, but otherwise continues down the stairs into the basement.

"Cy will be fine," Nat tells him, the question triggering a slight relaxation in the woman. A glance up at Signe's look and she elaborates. "We've got a new cub. Philodox. She's still in denial, so she's in the basement on our side. If she wasn't, I'd take you over there where Kev's more comfortable." Once everyone's subterranean she takes up position near the bottom of the stairs, arms folded across her belly. "--How do you want to handle this, Signe?"

Kevin nods as he sees the reassuringly solid wall dividing this basement from the Walker-side one -- the cub hasn't evidently been underground in this half of the house before. He resumes his staring at the wall as he awaits Signe's response.

Signe rubs at the back of her neck. "Tell you the truth, I'm not sure. How'd you trigger the damned thing before?" she asks, then upon a second thought, she adds, "We might as well start with the kid, anyway." With a gesture of her hand she indicates Kevin should sit down and get comfortable. Signe remains on her feet, preferring to pace a bit. "So, cub. Talk," she tells him, apparently hoping he'll take the opportunity to speak his mind about his situation.

Natalie offers one simple word, "Pot," and then goes quiet, save for a single, encouraging nod in Kevin's direction.

Kevin sits as bidden, though the bare floor down here is scarcely the most comfortable seat that the cub has probably ever had. "How much do you know, Signe-rhya?" he asks her, finally addressing words directly to her. "I wouldn't want to waste time recovering ground you know already."

"I got time," Signe says, and she even seems to convey patience with her tone despite the fact that she continues to pace. "Start at the beginning."

Kevin looks into air a second, composing his thoughts. "You probably already know," he begins in his soft British accent, "that I'm not from around here. I was in town for a junior athletics tournament, when I first changed. I was picked up by Scratch-rhya... a Walker, if that means anything... and taken to the farm where I spent about two months in limbo, having had no kinfetch." Pause for breath there, before he goes on. "While there I was trying to find out which tribe I might best fit into. It didn't take long for two to leave the rest behind. The Fenrir," he clarifies, with a nod to Signe, "and the Walkers." An equal and opposite nod to Natalie.

Signe offers a quick nod that tells him to go on.

A faint smile brightens the Galliard's face; like Signe, she too nods for him to continue.

Kevin, thus encouraged, continues. "Being at the farm, I had more chance to meet the Get than I did the Walkers. Not through any form of neglect," he hastens to add with another glance to that tribe's elder, "just because their place is generally in the city. As you may remember," he says, tones dropping even softer and more diffidently, "I met you briefly then, Signe-rhya, after telling some members of your tribe of my interest. It was also around then that Brom-rhya came to town. He seemed to..." Kevin slows down to a brief halt here, looking a little flustered. "To take me under his wing, somewhat, when he found I was looking at joining the Fenrir. He told me much of the tribe's ways, showed me fighting technique, gave me much insight into what it is to be one of Fenris's cubs." He takes a long breath and releases it. "He devoted much time to me and I owe him much gratitude." The cub comes to another stop with those words.

Signe nods again. "I remember," she rasps out, gesturing once more for him to continue. The mention of Brom actually makes her jaw set a little tighter, but it's a passing irritant.

Kevin doesn't continue at once, looking down at his eternally-closed fists for a second or two, his expression unreadable. He sighs and begins to speak once more. "After a few training sessions with Brom, I... felt a change coming over myself. Especially after the ones where we sparred. I felt more confident, more cocky even, than ever before. There was another cub at the farm at this time," he goes on, with a downward twist to his mouth, "named Hope. Like me, a lost cub. She annoyed me. She denied her own heritage and insisted we were nothing but monsters. At first I merely argued verbally, but after one session with Brom, I came close to striking her... I wanted to beat some sense into her." His eyes close for a moment or two. "For that and... other reasons... I took fright. I looked at myself as though from the outside. I did not like what I saw myself becoming."

Signe stops her pacing, at least for the moment, and regards the cub more closely. "Go on," she tells him, a bit more forcefully.

Kevin looks up and his eyes meet Signe's for the first time. His expression is still closely, fiercely, guarded, but there is something in his eyes that somehow seems to shine brighter than it has a right to in the dimly lit basement. Then he looks back down. "The next time Natalie came to the farm, I asked to join the Glass Walkers," he says, quite simply. "She had already made it plain that she would welcome me in the tribe and thought I would make a good Walker. She took me away there and then, and I have been here ever since, under her training and the other Walkers'. I thought the decision was made. But as you already know, Signe-rhya, the decision was made when I was unaware of an impo... a possibly important factor. Who soon began to make himself known." His eyes swivel to Nat now for a couple of mute seconds.

"Hjalmar," Nat supplies, eyes flicking over to Signe. "Started leaving us notes in Danish. Wandering around at night. Thomas was the one who figured out what was going on. We tried to get Kevin to relax enough to let him come out, but he couldn't. So one day we loaded him up on pot, which did the trick. Hjalmar's a ragabash, like Kevin. I tried to explain to him the Sept's rules - any lost cub can choose their own tribe, but he was pretty insistent. Eventually he and I agreed that we'd talk to you, and that he'd leave Kevin alone in the meantime. We said that if you and I couldn't agree on where Kevin should go, we'd take it to a neutral Philodox and let them decide."

Signe grunts. It's a thoughtful noise, but it cannot help but carry at least a faint hint of derision. "So," she begins, hands coming to rest at her hips briefly, "What you're telling me is you got scared and ran away from being a Get. Ran back to what you thought was safe and comfortable. The Walkers. Is that it?" Pausing for a moment, she tells the cub, "Stand up."

Kevin stands, in an upright tight position, his prominent jaw set. "You could put it that way, Signe-rhya," he concedes. "But in my defence, I can truthfully say that I did not think the Walkers would be either safe or comfortable. Nor have they proved so." Once more his eyes flicker for a brief moment to Natalie.

Natalie looks almost as though she'd snarl at Signe's words, but no sound escapes her. After a second she manages to force her expression back into a waiting neutrality.

Signe's tone becomes more antagonistic. "Then exactly what were you running from? What did you think you'd accomplish by choosing them above the Fenrir? Tell me."

As Signe's incisive question pins him down, Kevin's discomfort increases visibly, but he holds his upright pose determinedly. "A Garou should respect those beneath him, for all are of Gaia," he responds, taking refuge in the Litany. "I felt... rightly or wrongly... that if I continued with my application for Fenrir's tribe, I might be at risk of turning into a bully instead of into a brave but just fighter for Gaia." If Signe (or Natalie) is observant she may note that the cub's fists are clenched even tighter now, and his body language at its tensest.

Even though the implied insult to her tribe makes her show her teeth, she actually nods to the cub. Her hands clench and press, then release. "You wouldn't be the first Get to turn out to be bully. That's true. You show sense, cub. But what you become is in your hands more than in your teachers. I take it, then, you still /want/ to be a Walker. Not a Get?"

There is silence as Signe pushes the verbal pin further through Kevin's hapless body, skewering the boy firmly to the butterfly collector's card of her question. Kevin opens his mouth once, closes it again, opens it a second time, emits a dry croaking noise, swallows, and finally finds his voice. "Signe-rhya. Natalie-rhya. I've been doing some thinking. A lot of thinking. But may I ask you both one thing? Before I tell you the outcome of my thinking, if Signe-rhya wishes to speak with Claws-of-the-North, please may that take place before I myself speak further? There are reasons." Kevin bites his lip hard as he finishes delivering this polite, but very earnest, request.

Natalie hesitates, her hands slipping out of their knot, then opens a hand to Signe. "It's up to you," she tells the other woman, though not without sympathy for the boy.

Signe doesn't seem to see the reasoning behind the request--even after the cub tells her one exists. This makes the Get impatient and irritated. Through a growled out sigh, she relents, however. "Fine. Let's make this quick," she says, glancing back at Natalie. "Did you say 'pot' was how he emerged the first time? you've been letting the cub get high?"

Kevin gives an involuntary scowl, revealing what he himself thinks of drugs.

"Pot," Nat confirms, right hand diving into the front pocket of her jeans and resurfacing with an innocuous paper-wrapped joint. "He won't relax enough without it, and we don't have time to wait for him to go to sleep and wait for Hjalmar to come out. If you think you can relax, kiddo," she adds, looking straight at Kevin, "we can do that too. But you know and I know that the joint will work."

Signe lets the boy decide, turning to regard Kevin.

Kevin gives Nat a very dry look. "To get me to relax at this moment without the dope, you'd have to conk me over the head with a two by four. I should point out, Signe-rhya, that I've smoked pot once in my entire life, and that was the previous time it was used to bring Hjalmar out. You see, he doesn't talk to me... I don't think he can. He can only be in my body when I'm asleep or out cold for some other reason." He takes a couple of steps over to Nat. "Can you light it and start it off? I don't know how."

The Galliard drawls, "What, and reveal my mis-spent youth?" Her weight shifts, attention diving inward as she roots in her other pocket for the lighter. She mutters, "We shoulda had Thomas down here," as the wheel sparks; a second later and she awkwardly, with none of the ease of the Philodox, manages to get the joint lit. "There you go."

Signe folds her arms across her chest to wait. The cub's show of defensive pride makes the Get Jarl smile faintly, but the expression quickly fades in the gravity of the situation. The mere mention of Grey makes Signe that much more rigid, jaw tightening.

Kevin takes the item with a frown of distaste, and with a couple of deep preparatory breaths, he begins to toke away at it. Even for an abstainer from the joys of pot, he does seem to have a remarkably strong reaction to it. By the time the joint's half smoked, he's already looking heavy-eyed, and has to sit back down. By the time he comes to the end of it and tosses away the stub-end, he seems to have found some much overdue relaxation. He mumbles something quite incomprehensible to the two elders, rolls onto his side, and closes his eyes.

Signe remains to the side. For the moment her pacing has subsided. She simply watches the proceedings until the cub slumps over. Then, she asks Natalie, "Does this always work? The bastard just takes over when the kid's out of it?"

As the cub succumbs to the arms of Morpheus, Nat's own arms hitch defensively over her stomach again. She watches neither Signe nor the cub, until he's out, then delivers a jerky little nod to her Alpha. "Something like, yeah. We might need to give Hjalmar a little more encouragement, since he gave his word he wouldn't come out without permission. But the other couple of times it was always in the middle of the night. Probably about three A.M. I figure."

Kevin is dead in this scene. Well, not dead, one hopes. But quite, quite out of things. He lies there inertly as the two elders discuss him and the ancestor in his head.

Signe looks from Natalie to the cub and back again. "Encouragement? she asks. Does that mean you want me to ask him 'please', or do you mean encourage him some other way?"

Natalie shakes her head, her eyes slipping off Signe as she pushes off the wall. "I got it." She shifts as she steps toward the boy, until her crinos shape crouches down beside the youth, hesitantly reaching out a hand to give his leg a shake. ~Claws of the North. Come out. Skadi's Defiant Storm is here to speak with you.~

At Natalie's words, Kevin's body comes to life quite spectacularly. He whirls round, his leg evading her tentative shake, and springs to his feet, quite obviously ready to react to his surroundings if required. Giving no heed at all to the crinos garou, he spots Signe and his stance changes from alert to respectful, and one arm springing upwards into a salute. "Endelig du er her ovre. Den er ikke i naevaelse af gang. Mig hilsener hen til jer, aerede sig, Jarle!" he calls out, before a look of realisation crosses his face and he uses his upraised hand to slap himself on the forehead with self-annoyance. Shifting into Crinos in an instant, he speaks again, doubtless repeating his initial words in Mother's Tongue. ~At last you are here. It is not before time. My greetings to you, honoured one, Jarl. I obey your command, I who was once Hjalmar Larsen, Claws-of-the-North, Fostern of Fenris, and Rotagar of the Sept of the Seething Well, I who was sent by Gaia Herself to care for this boy, my descendant.~ He draws his clawed hands together in a formal gesture of deference across his chest, and goes down on one knee before the Jarl, massive head bowed. ~I pray leave to speak to you concerning the boy.~

Signe does not shift, at least not yet. The Walker's shift does make her visibly more tense, however. The appearance of the ancestor rotagar clearly makes her uncomfortable, but she stands her ground, regards him, and nods curtly to his introduction. She shifts upwards to crinos in order to properly answer him. ~Skadi's Defiant Storm, Jarl of the Get of Fenris at the Hidden Walk, and alpha of pack Havoc. Thank you, Claws, for your service to the boy. Speak. Please.~

As the others shift up Natalie shrivels down, back into unassuming homid. Right arm folds over her belly as she watches the pair, back pressed against the cold concrete of the basement.

Long-Climb remains in his deferential pose. ~It is simply told,~ he says in his accented and rather archaic Mother's Tongue. ~The cub Long-Climb-Ahead, knowing naught of my presence, made a choice which he thought was for the best. Likewise, Holds-the-Line, with every good intent, took the cub into the Riders of Iron, and began to raise him as one of that worthy and honoured tribe.~ He turns his head to Natalie, and inclines it in her direction once more as a gesture of respect, though Nat may note that there is a cold glitter in his eyes as he does so. ~I myself knew not of the cub's choice before I made it, else would I have found a way to counsel him of his true heritage. But I had believed his choice was already made for Fenris, as indeed it was before his will faltered. My Jarl, I tell you in all truth; not only was the cub's grandmother one of our matchless tribe, but so were his antecedents before her, as far back as I, Claws-of-the-North, dead now close on a hundred years and fifty; and for all I know, before even myself. I understand it is the way of this Sept that an unmarked cub may adopt what tribe he sees fitting, and this way I seek not to challenge in itself; but I ask you now, good Jarl, that in light of what I tell you of his blood, you should consider whether it is meet that he should remain even with so brave and honoured a tribe as the Riders of Iron -- whether it is not right that they should return him to Fenris where his heart and his blood belong. For he is not yet rited, and Cockroach knows him not yet as one of the Riders. Holds-the-Line has stated that she will not surrender the cub; if you, Jarl, feel my argument has strength, I suggest that a forseti -- a half-moon -- should judge the truth, as is the way of Garou in every sept on Gaia's green earth.~ After declaiming this epic speech, Kevin-Claws drops his head in deference once more, doubtless awaiting a reply.

Defiant-Storm listens with a solemn expression. It seems the ancestor doesn't tell her anything all that surprising. She spends the length of his speech studying the rotagar intently. ~Tell me,~ The Jarl growls out, ~If your family was so worthy of our venerable tribe that your descendants became so lax that the cub has no knowledge of where he comes from. No kinfetch was attached?~

Long-Climb speaks again in as measured a tone as before. ~The fault was not the tribe's, nor anyone's. The cub's grandmother died valiantly while her son, his father, was a mere child. His father, not born Garou, knew nothing of such matters, and so no kinfetch-ritual could be performed at his birth.~

Natalie forces her expression to calm, calm and neutrality, her eyes on the floor near her feet even as the fingers of her free hand tap a near-endless tattoo on the wall behind her.

Defiant-Storm regards the ancestor a little time longer, her expression unchanged--his answer nor appearing to impress her. Finally, she says simply to him, ~The decision, when it is made, is final. Whatever tribe he winds up in, you will honor. Serve him as best you can, as Gaia has bid you. Walker or Fenris, the boy can use a sensible warrior in his head to guide him, regardless of that spirit's tribe.~ she waits to hear if the spirit understands and accepts.

Long-Climb draws himself upright on his knee. ~My Jarl, this goes without saying. Know this: the cub is clever and cunning, and for a rotagar, he loves the thrill of the fight. Should you surrender Fenris's claim, he will be a great Rider. Yet would he be a greater still warrior of Fenris. Wherever he goes, I shall go with him, but I shall no more claim his body, I whose own body fed the fish in the Skaggerak these many years ago, save in the most extreme circumstances.~

Defiant-Storm hears this and nods her understanding. ~Thank you, Claws of the North,~ she says simply. Looking to her packmate, then, she waits to see if Natalie has anything to say, object to, or add.

Natalie exhales near-silent relief at their words, her eyes drifting half-closed for a second. Then she's off the wall again, both hands dropping to her sides as she shifts up to glabro. ~I thank you both. I had no worry for the honor of the Get.~ She gives a half-bow for Signe, while Kevin-nee-Hjalmar is dropped a short sharp nod. ~If Claws of the North has thoughts about the cub he is welcome to say them, but I ask that he not interfere with our training. Our way is not your way, and it is not the way of the Iron riders. He has a long climb ahead of him, and I trust - I know that we all wish him to succeed.~

Long-Climb exhales a long slow breath. ~Then your decision is made?~ he says slowly to the Jarl.

Defiant-Storm shakes her head, teeth showing briefly. ~It is not,~ she says, for both his and Natalie's benefit. ~I simply said whatever the decision is, when it is finally made, it will end this nonsense. No more changing your mind.~ With that, she nods again, ~Before any final decision can be made, I need to hear what the cub himself has to say. We've spoken to Claws. Now I must speak to Long-Climb-Ahead.~

Natalie grimaces at Signe's words - clearly she thought the decision *had* been made already, but steps back, dwindling into homid. After a second's thought she steps forward again, asserting silent claim over the cub.

~Indeed, a conclusion is needed, no matter what it may be~, Kevin-Claws agrees with a throat-showing roll of the head. ~I leave you once more with the cub himself, Jarl, and thank you for listening to my words, and you --~ he addresses Nat -- ~for trusting in the honour of myself and my tribe.~ With which words, he rises from his one-kneed posture, raises his hand once more to Signe in the gesture of respect which to eyes more modern than Hjalmar's resembles a Nazi salute all too closely, and returns to homid form prior to stretching back out on the ground.

Defiant-Storm either ignores or simply doesn't see Natalie's reaction. She does make note, however, of the Walker elder's subtle shift of position. The Get Jarl's eyes remain focused on Kevin, waiting to see if the cub is himself again.

For maybe as long as a couple of minutes Kevin lies insensible on the floor, breathing shallowly, before rolling over and opening a bleary eye. "Wh'appen?" he asks in tones that mix stoned dopiness with concern.

Natalie tucks her hands behind her back while she waits. Once the boy's... conscious, if not fully awake, she steps forward once more. "We spoke with Hjalmar," she reports, tone brisk. "He agreed to abide by whatever decision we made. --If you're still bleary, kiddo, shift up to glabro. I'd've thought all the drugs'd be out of your system by now, but I guess not."

Defiant-Storm takes the time to shift back down to homid. She gives Kevin a few more moments to re-orient himself, and then she says, "I spoke with Claws of the North. For a rotagar, he was unusually sensible. Now. Speak your mind."

Kevin yawns, nods, and contorting his face with conscious effort, goes glabro, only to yawn again, more hugely thanks to the near-man form's larger mouth and heavier jaw. "Okay..." he says, then shakes his head. "If it's all the same, I'd sooner speak in birthform. I know what I wanna say."

"It's your decision," Nat says, nodding to each of them in turn before taking a short step back.

Signe agrees with a nod, as well.

Kevin returns to his normal shape and size, and clambers back to his feet, those fists of his still clenched as they have been throughout, even while Claws was in the body. "Okay..." he says. "I'm assuming Hjalmar still wishes me to rejoin the tribe of my ancestors?" He blinks at Signe enquiringly. Whether the rest has done him good, or whether he's still a little stoned, the cub seems much less nervous now and more forthcoming.

Signe says simply, "He does. I'm inclined to agree with him, as well. But I'll listen to what you have to say."

"I don't need to question you, Natalie-rhya," the cub goes on, formally, to the other elder. "I know you want me. Wellll." He takes a deep breath. "I've lost sleep over this question ever since I've known about Hjalmar and what he says about me. I've tried seeing myself as Get, and I've tried seeing myself as Walker, and I'm damned if I can tell where I'd be the better fit, or where I'd serve Gaia the best. So there's two choices. Either you can send me to a philodox, and argue it all out yet again, and the whole thing drags on for longer still and delays my shot at becoming cliath, and no matter what the outcome is, the tribe that doesn't get me will feel that it's come off second best, and will hold resentment towards the one that does get me. Which would suck for both tribes, and for me, and for the whole damn Garou nation. Or." Kevin unclenches his right hand and raises one finger. "I've got another suggestion, if you'll hear it, Natalie-rhya, Signe-rhya."

"I think you... think wrongly of both our tribes," Nat says, voice low. But she nods to his suggestion. "What the hell. Go ahead."

Signe seems to agree with Natalie, but she too nods to the cub. "I'm curious to hear your idea."

Kevin takes a further courage-enhancing deep breath. "If you are both amenable to it, I'm prepared to let Gaia decide it. Or luck, whichever you like to call it." He unclenches his other fist now, and holds it out to reveal that it contains (and has presumably contained all along) a rather sweaty nickel. "You guys can toss to see who gets me. Even chances, and no shame to the loser or to me. And we get closure on the damn thing here and now." He jiggles his left hand a bit, making the coin move up and down on his palm. "It's probably just a crazy new-moon idea, but there it is, if you want it."

"No," the Walker says immediately, not even glancing to Signe to see what the other woman thinks. "No, Kev, that's not going to fly. If Signe and I can't hammer this out between us, it needs to go to a Philodox. Not to... not to random chance."

"Your life means more to me than that," she adds with a shake of her head.

Signe seems similarly disinclined. "Random chance. Gaia's choice, eh?" she says quietly, but then shakes her head. "No," is her decision. then, looking away from the cub, she regards her packmate. There's resignation in that expression. "I'm inclined to take it to a philodox," she says, but before Natalie can react further, she adds, "But. I'd be willing to compromise. You've taken to the kid. The kid's already shown a penchant for Walker ways, regardless of his heritage. There are two things I'd ask, and if you agree, then he can remain with the Walkers."

Kevin grins and hurls the nickel away into the far corner of the basement with a clink as it hits concrete and is lost in the shadows. "Ya know, I never for a moment thought you'd stand for that." He shuts up then and listens to Signe's proposal.

Natalie thins her lips at the boy in a not-smile, then turns to face her packmate, her alpha, the other tribe's Elder. "Whatcha got? I want him to be happy. I think he's a kick-ass Walker. But this needs to end so it's not hanging over all our heads." A last glance to Kevin and then all her attention's on Signe, thumbs hooked into her beltloops.

"First," Signe says, "His blood is Fenrir. He can be a Walker if you allow us, his true blood's tribe, the right to choose to claim any true born children he has." She lets that sit for a moment before asking her second boon.

Kevin breathes in, then out, the process sounding quite loud in the hushed silence that follows Signe's first ultimatum, the cub's whole attention on the Jarl of the Get.

"That's... between you and him," Nat answers, feeling her way along. "But I've got no claim on his children. We're mutts. If he agrees to it, I'll agree to it."

Signe glances to Kevin. "Well?"

Kevin nods. "I can live with that quite happily."

Natalie says, "That's one. What's the other?"

Signe nods simply, but then her body becomes far more rigid. It's clear she expects more of a fight from Natalie on her next request. "Second. The bastard charach. He cannot be allowed to teach the boy. I want him kept away."

Kevin's head jerks a little and he frowns quite severely. Indeed, it looks as though he wants to say something, but instead he chokes it down and looks at Nat expectantly.

Natalie goes nearly as tense as the Jarl, her chin jerking up. "We have no 'bastard charach'. Thomas is my Tribemate. I..." Her hands pull free of their confinement, balling nearly into fists before Nat pushes them down to her sides. Calm. Relaxed. "I can't agree to that, any more than you'd agree to me dictating how you tell your tribe to teach your cubs." A breath and she adds, "But. Tu is his primary teacher. I will agree to Thomas never teaching Kevin alone. Is that acceptable?"

Signe's teeth grate. It's as if the mere need of talking about the man--a one time friend--is infuriating. As much as the Walker elder needs to take a moment to calm, even under this smallish moon, so does the Jarl. She breathes out, nostrils flaring. "That's exactly what you're asking me to do, Natalie. Allow you to teach one of my cubs. No. I want 'him' kept away from the boy. Or we take this to a philodox."

Kevin can suppress himself no longer. "If your conditions preclude me from being taught by the whole tribe, Signe-rhya, I will not be a whole Glass Walker. I might just as well still be in limbo." He does not meet Signe's eyes, or Natalie's, as he grits out those words.

Kevin adds "Whatever I end up being, I wish to be FULLY."

"It goes to Megan, then," Natalie says, forcing calm - and forcing it badly, given how her words tremble - into her voice. She doesn't even so much as glance Kevin's way. "If I agree to your... condition, then he isn't really a Glass Walker. He's just a Get that you're allowing me to raise. That isn't fair to him. It's not fair to me. It's not fair to you. I'll call her, and get things set up, if you like."

Signe snaps at the cub, the tension and coiled anger in her finding a small release. "Be quiet. You've had your say. This is between us now." After a breath, she looks back to Natalie, dark eyes gleaming with barely contained rage. "That man is no more Walker than the boy is. He was born a _Shadow_Lord_," she says, the tribe's name is spoken with vile derision. "And for his own crimes, he should have been killed years ago. How Gaia allows him to keep escaping that fate is beyond me. Unless it's so that he can continue to be tortured with his own shame. Fine. It goes to Megan."

Kevin shuts up as bidden and instead strolls casually -- saunters, almost -- into the corner to retrieve the previously discarded nickel. Waste not, want not.

"He may have been born a Shadow Lord, but he is Cockroach's child now." The Galliard pulls herself a millimeter taller, face gone composed and set. "Just as White Bear is Glass Walker no longer. Thank you for your time, Signe." Another moment passes, tense and trembling, and she then takes refuge in manners. "Let's go upstairs. May I get you anything? We made cookies yesterday."

Signe shakes her head. Her expression surly and displeased. "No thank you," she says curtly. "I should be getting back." It appears like the Get would like to say something else to her packmate, but for the moment it seems like a bad idea, so she suppresses the urge and simply walks up the steps to leave.

Kevin finds that nickel, snatches it up, and walks back over to the two tense elders.

Natalie follows after her, gesturing sharply behind her back to keep the cub in place. "I'll call you after I've called Megan. Take some cookies with you, anyway." Now that the topic's back to something safe, they can both - can all - pretend that the last few minutes never happened.

Signe's never been good at hiding her feelings or 'pretend' anything. The offer of cookies is, however, reluctantly accepted. the Get doesn't speak much more, before leaving.

[End of log]