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 stays in homid only so long as it takes to let the Uktena into the room and gesture her to the living room on the other side of the half-wall. "What news do you have?" she asks as she swells back into glabro, her loose-bandages tightening back as she gains both height and mass.

Nascha is once more sans-staff, which doesn't seem to make her too comfy. She's already sporting jeans and a button-down t-shirt, both slightly worn, so she doesn't stick out like a carnival attraction in her 'indian getup'. Regardless, the Philodox walks tall and proud, which could just be a result of where that staff might go during dedication. "I have spoken with Jacinta. She, too, agrees you are both unable to communicate but is willing to sit down with you, with me as mediator, and talk. This, of course, will be done during the dark moon."

"During the dark moon," the Galliard repeats, half-disbelieving. "Nascha... Does she... understand what she's, how she's cramping herself?" At the other's look she unthinkingly shakes her head, wincing at the pull of scabbed skin on her face and neck. "She's got to come to me for her Fostern Challenge. The way things stand right now, I don't want - I can't give it to her. Hell, she told me to my face that she doesn't trust me. If we wait until the dark of the moon to clear this crap up, she'll have less than -two weeks- to perform her Challenge. Does she understand that?"

Nascha gives her head a slow shake. "I can only assume she does, else she would not be very concerned with her challenge. She wishes to talk about this before the Rite is done, so she must certainly understand how little time she will have."

Natalie limps around the wall into the living room at last, though she doesn't settle into a seat. "Well, I guess it's her Challenge," she says, opening her right hand - for her left arm is splinted and bandaged to her belly - in resignation. "--That said, is there anything I can help you with?"

Nascha again shakes her head. "No. I will just need to complete this Rite if I want to make part of my chiminage, so she and I are both under sorts of time restrainst. Her's more pressing than mine, I would assume."

"She's got to get her Challenge completed by the next Moot," the Galliard agrees. "--Unless Alicia-rhya allows her to extend it, of course. So she's got just under a month." She considers the Philodox for a moment longer before adding in a rumble, "If there is anything you need, let me know. I can't make promises, but I'll see what I can do."

"Megan-rhya said that I must perform this Rite and teach the Rite to one other." The Uktena says as she quietly regards the Galliard. "But I will keep in touch. Right now, talks will be held during the small moon. Should Jacinta change her mind, I will tell you."

"And these... talks. That's not the actual Rite, correct?" Nat offers an apologetic smile. "I don't want to haul my hammer everywhere I go if I don't need to. Especially if this is going to be held during the dark moons. I use it in my job."

Nascha shakes her head. "No. Once you two have talked, then we will discuss when the Rite will take place. It will be soon after, if Jacinta wishes any time to complete her challenge on time."

Nascha is a petite young woman of what would seem, at first glance, a native American origin. Her face is round and her skin of a smooth, light, even copper color. Her black hair is long and thick, frequently tied back with a strip of leather in a braided bun for ease and function and occasionally spotted with beads. Even her eyes, a dark cocoa brown, have that slightly 'pulled back' look, which in her case often emphasizes the thoughtful expression on her face. However, there is something else in her, often taking a good second look to determine. The shape of her lips and the form of her nose, the slight kink to her hair and the faint browner tinge to her skin - all suggestive of African blood. It would seem the less dominant end of her blood. Often she can be seen in traditional dress of leathers and woven cloth, but there are rare occasions when jeans and old flannel tops are required - though not often.

Natalie says, "It'll have to be." "--Well." She bobs her head at the much-smaller woman. "Thank you for stopping by and filling me in. I ought to be travel-worthy... cripes. Tonight, maybe, or else tomorrow. If you need to see me, just send word, all right?"

"It is nothing." Nascha says with a wave of her hand. "If there is more to tell you, I will stop by. For now, you look like you need your rest, so take it."

Natalie's smile is wry and crooked. "Slept most of yesterday. It really helped. I've got things to do today, though. You know what they say: No rest for the wicked. Gaia watch your path, Nascha."

"And may she also watch over yours, Elder of the Glass Walkers." The Uktena voices with a dip of her head. "I will keep in touch." She says and then turns to show herself for the door, obviously not intending to let the Galliard stand and escort her there.

Natalie does follow after the Uktena, but stops at the door to the inner sanctum, allowing Nascha to operate the Weavery-doorknob herself.

[End of log]