Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (63% full).

Stairs in the foyer lead up to the second floor, while a doorway tucked under the curve of the stairs heads down to the basement. A heavy door in the foyer with a monitor and intercom beside it goes back to the area set up for communal use by the Sept's Garou.

The skinny girl drums her heels against the cabinets, legs swinging restlessly from her perch on the countertop. She scowls darkly at the mention of age, and notes lowly, "M'fifteen."

"Ah, cool." Jeremy says, continuing to eat his apple, munching away at it, chew, swallow. He glances to his watch, then back over to her, licking his lips. "So.. how are you liking it thus far?" He asks curiously. "Everything OK? Learning lots? Getting easier to do stuff?"

Footsteps come down from above, heavier than Natalie's usual but decidedly not Grey's - he and the other kid took off a while ago. After a protesting creak from the couch, Natalie comes down the hall from the living room, her arms empty. She enters the kitchen and just -stops-, her eyes fastened solely on Jeremy. All the color drains out of her face. "Get. Out," she tells him, biting off each word - and the intent eye might notice she's beginning to tremble, just slightly?.

Cy twitches visibly, head snapping up as she spots the woman in the doorway. Her own features pale as well, but she says nothing--eyes cutting back and forth between the pair sharply.

Raising up a brow, Jeremy lifts up a shoulder, picks up his coffee mug and starts for the entrance. He doesn't say a word, nor does he make eye contact with the Elder. He just lets out a soft sigh and takes out his iPod, sticking the buds in his ears and turns the volume on.

Natalie scuttles out of the doorway as soon as Jeremy approaches it, as if she were the Scarecrow and he the Human torch. She doesn't look at the kin either, but keeps her attention focused on the far wall, only giving him the scantiest of looks to make sure he keeps moving. "--I'll call you later. Or email," she says in a tight, controlled voice.

The kin doesn't bother with a reply as already heavy music is blasting through his ear buds. Jeremy continues to saunter on out, snagging up his work bag as he goes. Straightening his hat over his head, he goes to work.

The girl on the countertop hunches her shoulders tensely, hopping down with a solid *thud* of bare feet on the floor. Her grasp is white-knuckled around the coffee mug, and she trains her eyes carefully out the window towards the early-morning view.

"That..." Natalie begins, pulling her hands behind her back. "--Kin. Jeremy. Jon. Rina. They can't be here during the big moons." Each word carefully chosen, delicately offered for all that she's studying the far wall. "You could - I could - lose it. Snap. Frenzy. Kill them easier than breathing. If..." She stops there, her eyes tracking along the join of wall and ceiling until they reach the fridge. A breath, and her words come more normally now. "If one of them stops by, leave. Do -not- talk to them. Go upstairs, go into the basement. But leave. I don't want any accidents."

Cy looks down sharply at the floor, and nods once--whether or not Natalie can see it. She's trembling slightly, now. "I will," she agrees lowly, perhaps with more compliance than the older Garou's ever heard from her. Her voice is clipped and quiet. "Nobody told me."

"I'm telling you now," the Elder says - not unkindly, even if her voice is still rough. "I didn't think I had to tell Jeremy. /Again/. He just doesn't..." An impatient flick of one hand sends the rest of the sentence scuttling. "It doesn't matter. You know now." Another deep breath - shaky on the inhale, but smooth on the exhale - and she turns to face the girl, expression calm. "I could use your help later. Or now, if you're ready to start the day."

A shaky hand lifts to scrub briefly at her red hair, and Cy cuts a sideways glance towards the woman. Wary. "C'n I ask a question?"

Natalie nods immediately. "Of course." For the first time today she sounds almost relaxed, like the times she came down to visit the girl in the bunker. "That's what you're here for."

"How do I tell them to leave?" The girl's features flicker with an obvious twist of frustration. "They're ol--they've been around longer." She sets the half-empty coffee mug on the counter with a sharp clink of porcelain, emphasizing her words.

"You saw how I did it," the Galliard answers, one corner of her mouth twitching up. "Or if you want to try for tact, tell them the moon is big, Luna's riding you like a PRCA bronc-buster, and to get the hell out." Her smile broadens after delivering this last nugget of helpfulness.

Cy doesn't echo her smile. Instead, she lifts both brows incredulously. "Have you met that Rina lady?"

Natalie's smile fades, like water draining out of a colander. "I know Rina, yes. Look, Cy - if you can't tell them to go, then you go. You're barely trained. You don't know how to control yourself yet. I don't... we don't want any accidents. You'll never see Jon around here during the bigger moons, but Rina and Jeremy... got spoiled. The Elder..." She sighs, running one hand through her hair, and jerks her head toward the dining room. "Wanna go sit?"

The girl's gaze follows her gesture, and she nods once or twice. Taking up the coffee mug, she pads into the dining room and picks a chair. Cy plops into it with a loose slouch and rubs at her eyes.

Natalie paces after her to take her usual chair at the head of the table. Only after she's sitting, fingers laced together and hands resting on the tabletop, does she continue. "Jeremy doesn't think. Or rather, he thinks he's better, safer, than he really is. Remember that day when you threw your fork at me? How I went from where I was to slamming you up against the wall? That's Rage. That's our curse. As long as you keep it harnessed, it'll help you. But when the moon gets bigger, the Rage gets..." She frowns down at her fingers, searching for the correct word. "Gets uppity. Harder to control. And it's easier for one of us to just lose it. To Frenzy." Eyes flick back to the girl. "--Is any of this making any sense?"

Beneath the table, one skinny knee is jiggling restlessly. "Yeah," Cy nods briefly. Her own gaze hovers over the tabletop as well, dark and intent. "...'S like an itch, right?"

Natalie nods without words, her expression tightening in understanding. "It can be, yes. That's a good... that's a good word for it. Sometimes you have to ignore the itch. Sometimes you just have to scratch it. And if you scratch it on a Kin... well, 'fatal' covers it quite nicely. I could kill Jeremy..." She grimaces and watches as she presses her palms into the tabletop leaving her fingers laced together. "I could kill Jeremy as easily as I breathe. That's a scary thing to think about, but it's true. So when I do... when I kicked him out this morning, I was literally saving his life."

"He talks a lot," the quiet cub observes lowly. "So does Kevin." She shifts forward, gripping the mug in both hands again. Frowning into its depths. "So I--just walk away, if I'm feeling itchy?" Her questions are offered slowly, like pulling teeth.

"Walk away," the older woman agrees with a slow nod. "Get yourself out of there. You're a Philodox. You've got more of a temper than a Ragabash will. Not as much as a Galliard or an Ahroun, but it's there. Until we... until you've had a chance to live through a few full moons, you won't know how you handle it. It's best to avoid -any- kin once the moon hits half."

Cy looks nonplussed by the series of titles mentioned, but nods once, drumming fingertips against the side of her cup. "So that's Rina... and Jeremy. Jon's your boyfriend, right?" She glances up briefly, seeking confirmation. "What's he look like?"

Mention of the third Kin brings a flash of a smile to Nat's face, warm memory mixed with another, sadder emotion. "Jon's my boyfriend, yes. He came with us when we picked you up. I don't think you ever saw him. He's about six foot, brown hair, light brown eyes. Cute, but then I'm biased."

That change in expression earns the older Garou a long, considering look from the girl. She makes a noncommittal sound and drops her eyes. "Don't r'ly know who's coming or going," she mutters. Rubbing tiredly at her face, she takes a sip of caffeine.

"There's only a few of us in the tribe," Natalie offers, letting her fingers slide free. "Thomas - he's another Philodox, like you. Your main teacher. Tu's a Ragabash. He's Vietnamese, I think. Asian, anyway. Our other cub is Kevin - Ragabash. Then there's me. Galliard and Elder. That's it. And you already know the kin, so if you see a stranger purporting to be Jon, you can identify him."

Cy tilts her head, tapping a fingertip to the table with each name. She nods again, mostly to herself--but she still looks confused. "Gally--uhrm. What're the other words?"

Natalie looks up with a curious, "Hm? --Oh, the auspices. Tells you what phase of the moon you're born under. It's more complex than that; it also gives you your, hmn, your role in Garou society. The Philodox are the lawyers, the judges, the mediators. They're the ones who know the laws and make judgments when they're broken."

A wrinkle of her snub nose, at that explanation. "Right. He told me the other night. Sounds like a fuckin' barrel of fun," she answers lowly. "What about th'other ones?"

"Tell you what," Natalie tosses back as she pushes back her chair. "You tell me either the auspice or the phase of the moon, and I'll tell you what they do." Lessons on the fly, whee.

Cy sits back as well, arms crossing over her chest as she searches her memory. "Galliard," she throws out, only stumbling slightly over the pronunciation.

Natalie echoes the auspice, adds, "The gibbous moon. Taletellers, singers, dealers in information. If you have information you need spread, you tell a Galliard, If you want to know what's going on, you ask a Galliard." She cocks her head at the girl, but doesn't add anything more.

The scrawny kid's gaze is intent on Nat now, with none of her previous hesitation. That knee under the table's stopped fidgeting. "Th--Theurge."

Again the Elder repeats the auspice, with a pleased nod for the girl. "The crescent moon. Ritemaster, spirit-talker, healers. Knowers of all things woo-woo. If something goes bump in the night, you talk to a Theurge. They're the ones with the best relationship with the spirits, the most comfortable in the Umbra. --Two left," she adds as she rests the palms of her hands against the tabletop.

Cy purses her lips in thought, closing her eyes for a moment. You can almost hear the gears clicking away. "Ahroun," she shoots back, after a another moment.

Natalie says, "The one I didn't mention," with another pleased nod - and a smile as well - for the girl. "Good. Ahroun. The full moon. Our warriors. The foot soldiers, the generals. The leaders. They feel Luna's pull on them most strongly of all the auspices. If you want it killed, talk to an Ahroun.""

There's no smile in return for Nat; the girl's too busy absorbing the information. "That Kevin guy told me 'bout the other one last night," she says, releasing a thin sigh that drops both her small hands onto the table, palms-down. A few heartbeats pass, and she straightens slightly, taking a deep breath. "So lemme get this straight. We're talkin' a widespread underground society divided into tribes, each one followin' a different... animal--spirit--thing--whatever." Her hands move across the table, index fingers tapping in illustration. "Each person's got an--auspice, or something, that tells them what they're s'posed to be doin' in their tribe. An' each person's got some kinda totem-pole rank in the system." She pauses, frowning. "--Like a wolf pack. And it's all about fighting for some kinda balance in this triangle of--things. Gods? Deities. Whatever. And there's some kinda doom-and-gloom End Of The World on the horizon." The girl lapses into fifteen-year-old eloquence somewhere during her monologue, but she doesn't look at the Galliard. She seems to be talking to herself. Falling silent, she slumps back into the chair with a gusty sigh, and tips her head back. "Fuck."

Natalie cocks her head as the girl starts speaking, her smile fading as her attention turns to Cy, and listening to the cub. "...As a general outline, yes. That's pretty much it. Each of the tribes has a different outlook, a different totem. Each of the auspices has generally the same role, with specifics depending on your tribe. Then there's packs as well, which can be from the same tribe, or different tribes. Think of them as, hmn, shock troops? Not quite the right word. They claim territory and do their best to clean it up. White blood cells, maybe."

Cy levels a rather weary, irritated look at the woman as she lifts her head. "This is all pretty nuts," she notes flatly.

"It's worked for tens of thousands of years," Nat replies, her lips thinning at the girl. "Nuts or not, it worked. Still does work. I'd leave off making judgments about its relative sanity and concentrate on finding where you fit in, if I were you."

The girl huffs out a breath, that habitual frown dropping around her features as she moves to take another gulp of coffee. She leaves any further debate behind, as though taking her cards off the table. "What'd you want my help with?"

"I've got a wall safe to install," the Galliard says after a few seconds. "Another set of hands would be useful. I can't decide if I want it in the computer room, back here in the dining room, or in the hallway."

Cy grunts, narrowing her eyes slightly at her coffee. "Dunno much about safes," she murmurs. Back to sullen mumbling, it would seem.

Natalie snaps, "I don't need you to crack it," her eyes narrowing at the sullen cub. "We're installing it. Measuring, cutting, drilling holes. That sort of thing. If you aren't ready to go now, then go get ready. You have half an hour before I want you back downstairs. If you are ready, then drink the last of your coffee and let's go."

Coffee cup meets tabletop with a solid *thunk*, and the girl flashes a look at the woman from across the table. Natalie might recognize it from previous encounters in the bunker. Gritting her teeth, the skinny cub makes a half-strangled sound and rips her gaze away just as abruptly, shoving the heels of her hands against her eyes. She hunkers there for a moment, breathing harshly.

"Just--gimme a sec," the cub chokes out, posture strung wire-taut and trembling. One white-knuckled hand drops to grip the edge of the table, and she hisses out a breath.

Natalie shoves her chair back a fraction farther. "Very good," is all she says before standing. "--I'll be in the front room when you've got hold of yourself." Then she strides for the hallway, her chair still shoved out and leaving the cub behind.

A strangled growl follows in the Galliard's wake, and then nothing more from the dining room for quite some time.

[End of log]