They are not within a Bawn. They are not in the heart of a Caern. They are here, in this most unnatural of cities, in an anonymous hotel room nearly indistinguishable from its neighbor, and its neighbor's neighbor, and so on.
Even so, the sacred rites have power. Even so, as Reverence of Dawn begins to mete out punishment, she can feel it:
the chill in the air. The prickling under her flesh. The invisible hollowness she draws, as though the passage of her footsteps were the cutting edge of a blade. She slices through Midsummer's Shadows bonds: to his pack, to his tribe; to his very name and identity within the Garou nation.
Not to Gaia, though. Never that. That is a bond indissoluble, as old as their race, more sacred than any rite.
When she is finished there is an empty space behind her. She acknowledges nothing about his continued existence, and indeed in some strange way, whatever sounds or scuffles he might make seem somehow more distant to her. As though heard through thick gauze. As though witnessed from a thousand miles away.
She walks away from him. She does not look back. It is forbidden to look back, and the rite binds the judge as well as the prisoner.
--
Exhaustion drenches her in that elevator. The hours, the distance, the weariness of witnessing sin and delivering retribution.
--
No one else gets on. The elevator car takes her straight to the lobby. The doors open and she steps out, and a throng of noisy tourists fall silent as she passes. The way opens, the path to the door lies clear, and then she sees him:
Iron Tooth, impeccably and oppressively dressed in greys and blacks, a signet ring heavy on his left hand. He looks Avery in the eye, but he does not speak to her. Or smile. Or frown. Or acknowledge her at all beyond that singular, held gaze.
In another moment he walks past her, toward the elevator bank. Some yards behind him, flat-out running, drawing stares in her wake: Bright Spear, doubtlessly come to tell Avery what she already knows.
Reverence of DawnThe aura of her totem still shimmers in the air around her. Even when Avery passes through people, there is a space left in her wake, a space they are not willing at first to enter. There is something about her. The sense of power, the scent of antiquity, the sheer purity of her presence -- these things hold mere mortals at bay, and Avery
does not notice them at all.
--
In the elevator, though, before all that, she wants to weep.
She does. Two tears, one from each eye, escape her as she leans against the wall, sucking in a breath, pressing her lips together, shaking her head. Avery blinks them away, wipes them from her cheeks, stands straight,
composes herself.
--
Avery sees Iron Tooth. Iron Tooth sees her. She does not know if he can sense the ritual she just performed, but she does not trust him to respect that it has been laid down. It's not enough. He wants to win, win, win. He has to win.
He's a bit mad, too. Avery is wondering, right now, if all of them are. She does not flick her eyes to Bright Spear, though, out of some instinct to protect the cliath. What she does is, rather wordlessly,
enter the elevator that comes for him.
-shadow-No one else gets into that elevator. It doesn't matter that there's a throng of tourists waiting to get up to their room. It doesn't matter that those elevators are large and spacious and as luxurious as elevators get.
Iron Tooth gets on. Reverence of Dawn gets on. Everyone else stays the fuck out.
And in that elevator Iron Tooth meets Avery's eyes again. He seems amused. There's a faint smile on his face; smirk. He reaches out to hit a button: 28, not a hint of doubt. The doors begin to shut
and someone does get on after all. Skidding in, out of breath: Bright Spear. The girl is clearly shaking in her boots. She stands tall, though, and looks Iron Tooth square in the face.
The doors shut. The elevator starts going up.
-shadow-Bright Spear obviously expects Avery to do something. Make some incredible speech. Bust out a can of whup-ass. Something.
But the Philodox just: rides the elevator. With Iron Tooth. The two of them stare at each other, or they don't. They pass floor after floor. Finally, Bright Spear can't seem to hold back anymore. She bursts out:
"You know I'm a Guardian of the Caern. And Reverence of Dawn-rhya is one of our best young Philodoxes. Whatever you think you're going to do, people are going to find out. People are going to know."
"And what if they do know?" In the confines of the elevator, Iron Tooth's voice is smooth and rich. "Who's going to care if some tribeless, nameless cub is put to death for stealing what belongs to a true Garou?
"Thank you, Reverence of Dawn. You've made this so much easier for me."
Reverence of DawnAvery is, in fact, silent. She rides the elevator looking forward, saying nothing, without cheating glances at Iron Tooth or even Bright Spear. She doesn't ask where Ilyana is, though silently she wants to tell Bright Spear to GET BACK THERE. She does not. They ride the elevator up to the 28th floor, Bright Spear has her outburst, and Iron Tooth answers like the slimy son of a bitch he is.
He gives his snide little thanks and it takes effort not to roll her eyes at him. Avery is not going to attempt to reason with him as she did with Erich and Phoebe, trying to get them to lay down their anger for the sake of their packs and the septs. She is not going to try and show him the error of his ways as she did with Stray, though one might argue that with the force of her spirit, she might actually succeed. Avery is quiet for another floor, then says quietly:
"Nothing was stolen from you, Rhya."
It is a calm murmur, a gentle, instructive issuance of truth. "Your mate willfully ran from you because you broke the Litany and did not respect those beneath you. I admit some embarrassment on your behalf when I learned that your own mate so despises you that she would prefer to die than remain."
That is when, slowly, Avery turns her head to look at him with those eyes. Those pure, sky-colored eyes that only recall the beauty of a clear day so much more when the actual sky outside is so far away and so very, very dark right now.
"That is what the garou of our septs will know. That your own mate hated you so much that she ran from you, and that you did not find her or even try to look for her. That you were -- rather easily, it would seem -- fooled into believing she was dead. That you murdered a wolf who neither forced nor coerced her into anything, nor ever trespassed with her physically, when he had already been punished."
She is terrified for her life. She does not shake.
"It will also be known, should Stray show you his throat, that you again broke the Litany by ignoring an honorable surrender, though I imagine there is no great loss or gain to you should he fight back, and perhaps only greater embarrassment should he simply lie down and let you kill him."
The doors open at the 28th floor. Avery offers her arm outward into the hall. "By my own judgement, I cannot aid him. But I will, as is my duty to my moon whether in or out of the midst of a challenge, witness the truth. And the truth will be known."
There's a beat.
"After you, Rhya."
Reverence of Dawn[Charisma (charming) + Leadership (compelling) + Falcon + PB: Talking down the Adren Theurge Shadow Lord bent on vengeance]
Dice: 14 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 13 ) Re-rolls: 2
-shadow-[O______________________O]
-shadow-When Avery turns to meet Iron Tooth's eyes, she finds him staring right at her. That gaze is a formidable thing. Heavy and dark as concrete in the rain. Malevolent. Arrogant. Condescending.
He stares at her. He stares her down, or he tries. His eyes bore into her as she speaks, as she lays it out for him: the truth, the terrible, shameful truth, the stories she will tell, the slander to his name and his honor and his pride. And as she speaks something new comes into those eyes. Wrath. Hatred. And,
and, at the last:
(blink and she would miss it.)
a flinch.
A flickering of the pupils, not even quite a blink. Just -- the smallest wavering. And that's when she knows it:
he did not win. She did.
--
The doors open. Bright Spear holds very very very very very still. She doesn't dare move. Not a breath, not a blink. The air itself seems to have crystallized. They seem like statuary, locked in eternal facedown. Seconds creep by like years. And then:
the doors shut. A moment after the elevator, summoned from some other floor, begins to move again.
--
"I wonder how you will speak all these interesting things if I tore your throat out."
Bright Spear tenses instantly: but she is young, and nervous, and brave, and she did not have the advantage of seeing his eyes flicker. Avery did. Avery knows better. She knows this for what it is: the pretense of aggression, the facade of courage in a fleeing foe. Insults hurled over-the-should in full retreat. Last shots fired more for bravado than for victory.
A beat later he relents. He leans back against the elevator wall, lifts his shoulders in an elaborately laconic shrug.
"Have it your way. It's hardly even worth my effort to kill him now. Fool that he is, he won't last a month on his own. Time will tie that loose end for me.
"As for your lovely little story: perhaps you should reconsider what you repeat, and to whom. Perhaps you shouldn't tell anyone at all who that bitch in the car really is. Or where she came from. Or how she ran away. Or who really owns her.
"Let Ilyana, mate to Iron Tooth, stay dead. Let Midsummer's Shadow be exiled for her murder. Speak nothing of what you have seen and heard and found, and that nameless woman in the car will keep her life. Tell the world the truth, tell them she ran from me, tell them why you really exiled Midsummer's Shadow, and my precious mate will doubtlessly be returned to me. And nobody wants that."
Reverence of DawnThe threat washes over Avery. It's only a more explicit version of things he's already said, a verbalization of things she already knew were possible when she walked into the elevator with him. Hearing Iron Tooth spit the words out does not make that possibility more real; it does not make that threat more immediate, and hardly inevitable.
She is tired. She has wept. She has cast out a member of her own tribe within the last -- less than ten minutes. Maybe not even a full five. Elevators don't move that slow at the Bellagio.
Avery does not flinch. The reaction that it takes effort to wipe from her face is one of dominance. Triumph. A snarling victory. But: she is still a cliath, and he is an adren theurge. That tempers any pride, any victory, any fearlessness. Avery is many things, and she is confident, but she is no fool.
The elevator begins to descend, and Avery turns her eyes towards the door once more.
"As I have said before, Rhya," she tells him, with all due respect in her tone and not needing notation,
"I will do my duty."
-shadow-Iron Tooth's eyes narrow. With Avery's eyes turned to the elevator door, he's aggressive again. He steps close to her, close enough that she can feel his breath, smell the animal musk of him beneath whatever expensive aftershave he's put on.
"You've wronged me once already, Cliath. Don't make the mistake a second time. My memory is long, and I am a very patient wolf."
--
A moment later, the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Iron Tooth walks away from them without a word, without a glance back. And Avery, for the first time in what must seem like hours, days, centuries, is left amongst allies.
One ally, anyway. A sidekick who watches Iron Tooth go with narrowed eyes of her own.
Reverence of DawnAgain, Avery doesn't flinch. They get to the lobby. He warns her, breath on her cheek, and her eyes close. She momentarily thinks of Calden, peacefully and fearlessly, and when Iron Tooth steps away, she just opens her eyes again and watches him walk out. For a moment or two, she watches him stalk away. Then she looks down at Bright Spear.
"There's an Adren Ahroun of my own tribe who hates me a lot more than he does. Her threats were usually more descriptive," Avery says, almost as if she is explaining to Bright Spear why she doesn't flinch from Iron Tooth's threats. He is a Shadow Lord, to be fair, but really: have some perspective.
With that, she strolls out of the elevator. Some steps into the lobby, she reaches out and puts her hand on Bright Spear's shoulder, squeezes it, then slides her arm around the younger garou's shoulders. "How would you feel," she says thoughtfully, "about taking a jet back to Denver?"
-shadow-With Iron Tooth gone, Bright Spear looks like she can breathe again. She laughs -- a little shakily, true, but a laugh nonetheless -- when Avery speaks of the other Adren she's made an enemy of.
"That was super brave of you," she says. "I can't believe he just backed down. I thought he was gonna run in there and kill Midsummer's Shadow. Oh! What happened in there? Nevermind, you can tell me later. But you should totally watch your back around Iron Tooth-rhya from now on. Though I wouldn't be too worried either. I'm pretty sure you're gonna end up with way more friends and allies than enemies."
Hugged, Bright Spear looks surprised and delighted. The delight quadruples a moment later. "Oh my god, can we? I've never flown before. I mean... would it be okay?"
--
They find their way out. A heavy rain has begun to fall, torrential, monsoonal. Out in the desert, riverbeds flood. Hardy desert plants drink their fill, store what they can in succulent leaves and bulbs. Rivulets and sheets of water wash across the parking lot and the sidewalks, where concrete has obscured the thirsty earth.
In the time it takes them to get to the Juke, the storm drenches them. Yet not long after they slam themselves into the SUV, the rain begins to lighten. Already the thunder is rolling away. They find Ilyana where they left her, joyless and grim in the back seat.
She has that gun in hand again. She doesn't ask what happened up there. Or with Iron Tooth. She looks at Avery, though, and maybe, just maybe, the Philodox can see a flicker of relief in her eyes.
"We are all still alive, I see," she says, and buckles herself in.
Reverence of DawnIt hurts to keep hearing that name. Avery gives her another squeeze to the side. "Midsummer's Shadow is no more, Bright Spear," she says quietly. "The cub's name is Stray."
Her arm slides away. It tells the guardian a lot, in those words, of what happened in there.
"We will see what Ilyana says," Avery says, a bit cryptically, as they walk to the Juke.
--
At the doors, Avery looks at the rain outside, then side to side until someone notices her, assuming she's a guest, assuming she's a fucking queen or something. They run over with an enormous umbrella to cover both she and Bright Spear as they walk out to the car. Avery holds her head high. She walks like she is used to this: servants rushing around, making sure not a drop of rain falls upon her pretty head unless she wishes it. Right now, she does not wish to feel the touch of Grandfather Thunder. No disrespect to him, for not all his children are like him, just as not all Silver Fangs are like Falcon, but right now
right now,
Avery wants a shield from the storm.
At her adorable white mini-SUV, she gets into the driver's seat as Bright Spear gets into the passenger seat. Avery doesn't turn the car on. She takes a breath, then turns around and looks at the Shadow Lord kinswoman. She sees the flicker of relief. Avery feels a surge of pity for her again, but more than that: she feels the weight of her oath.
"Don't buckle yourself in," she says quietly, levelly. She doesn't say anything else, but gets her phone out and sends a few texts. She does some mental math and estimations, waits for answers, sends more texts. For a few minutes, in fact, she's quiet, ignoring questions. But when she puts the phone away again, she looks tired but... settled. Settled, confident, weary, as she turns on the car. The desire to not speak or be spoken to is almost palpable around her. It must be torturous for Ilyana; right now Avery only barely cares.
She drives to McCarran. There will be a bit of a wait, of course, but it will be time for she and Bright Spear to get a decent meal, she thinks. Some drinks. Maybe a souvenir for the guardian. And maybe some for her father and brother and Calden and Javed -- of course Javed. Avery drives.
--
When they get to the airport, Avery pulls over before they're at the point of no return. They're on the shoulder when she turns around to look at the Shadow Lord.
"Unless you want to, you are not going back with us," she says.
She holds out her hand to Ilyana. The keys are in her palm. "I'll give you contact information for my steward. A small sum is going to come via Western Union for you. I encourage you to remain in contact with my kinfolk so that you can receive the title and registration to the car, which will be an invaluable asset to you, whether you choose to sell it or use it as part of establishing yourself somewhere. After that, you will be on your own. You should only call on me again if Iron Tooth-rhya or someone working for him comes to try and return you to him, for I have made you an oath. That oath will be upheld until my death, at which point that duty will transfer to one I will name should they survive me.
"Someone will stand between you and being forced to go back to him."
This, too, has the gravity of an oath.
Avery's eyes are crystalline in this light, even in her weariness. "Take it, Ilyana."
-shadow-Avery thought once that Calden has none of the automatic resistance or instantaneous submission of a kin who has been taken advantage of, oppressed, abused in some way. She was right. Ilyana, on the other hand: she has all of the hallmarks. The bitter humor, the darkness in her eyes. The fatalism. The odd brand of vengefulness.
And even this: when Avery pulls over, she tenses. She knows nothing good is coming. She knows it, and she expects it. When Avery turns, holds out her hand,
she sees Ilyana flinch. Subtly, but noticeably, and wholly instinctively.
But she is not struck. She is not abused again. Nothing is demanded of her, and nothing is done to her. Keys: that is all. Keys in the palm of Avery's hand, held out to her. Ilyana looks at them. She looks at Avery, and slowly comprehension begins to dawn. The look on her face is complex: disbelief and reflexive distrust warring with something so simultaneously overwhelming and subtle that it almost cannot be recognized as gratitude.
She does not need to tell Avery for Avery to know that no one has ever done anything like this for her. She does not need to say it for Avery to know that she does not expect anyone ever will again.
"Somebody take advantage of your kindness one day," Ilyana mutters: an attempt, and not a very good one, at hardness and cynicism. She takes the keys. A beat or two pass. Then she raises her eyes to Avery's.
"Thank you," she whispers.
--
And then there are two. Ilyana drives away in Avery's Juke; she doesn't bother to wave goodbye. They were never friends. Sometimes alliances such as these, forged by vow and need, don't really need to be friendships at all. Bright Spear watches her go, shading her eyes with her hand. "I guess we won't ever see her again," she says. Doesn't sound sad or happy or -- anything, really. Just an observation.
They go into the airport. Bright Spear looks at everything, oh, everything. She stares at the arrival/departure screens. She fiddles with the luggage tags. Avery discovers her name is Emily Mahoney when they buy tickets. Her eyes bug out at how expensive same-day tickets bought at the counter are, even if they really aren't that expensive at all.
They have a bit of time before their flight, and no luggage at all to check; they wander the souvenir shops and Bright Spear borrows a quarter to play one of those slot machines that she's too young for. "Just so I can say I did it," she explains. Unsurprisingly, they lose the quarter.
Then they're checking in. They're going through security and Bright Spear is glaring at the TSA agent that wands her. They're grabbing a snack from one of those overpriced delis, and then they're boarding. Bright Spear gets a window seat and she hogs that window, filling it completely with her head and shoulders as she cranes this way and that.
It thrills her when the engines cycle up. It thrills her when they lift off. It thrills her when they punch through the clouds, lightning flashing all around, and it thrills her when they emerge into the sundazzled calm air above.
Then, exhausted, she falls asleep.
Reverence of Dawn"Many days," is all Avery says to her attempt at cynicism. It is an acceptance, an acknowledgement, an agreement. It is, perhaps, even an admission that it is not something that will happen one day but something that may have already happened. And will happen again.
Still: the keys slide from her hand to Ilyana's. She is thanked, and Avery wants to tell her not to thank her, for she is the second member of their nation whom Avery has exiled today, but Avery merely inclines her head, a subtle nod of receipt.
--
Bright Spear has her hoodie; Avery gets her coat and a few other absolute essential items that belong and should continue to belong solely to her, but really, she doesn't carry much in the truck. Ilyana leaves she and the guardian by the roadside, and Bright Spear comments on never seeing her again, and all Avery can do is shrug.
They walk. It isn't terribly far, and the air was cooled by the storm, but they walk into the airport. Bright Spear is just... agog. Avery and she stay away from security and the like; they sit at a restaurant and have some dinner. The guardian asks questions about tickets and TSA and so forth, but Avery just looks across at her, uncomprehending, then goes: "Oh, no dear: we're taking a jet," as though this is utterly different from a heavy-occupancy plane, as she sips a bit of red wine to go with her steak. It's actually not a terrible steak, but she is comparing it to Calden's, and so it is very nearly rank.
They wander around. Bright Spear gets a couple of quarters and Avery just smiles as she goes off to play. Avery, for her part, browses the souvenirs and ends up getting two large paper bags with twisted-paper handles full of presents and gifts. Bright Spear admits she lost. Avery shrugs and merely says: I think that's the point of it. I've never been quite clear.
Flying is different, when you charter a plane. You go out on the tarmac. There are folded-down stairs for them and more, and more, and more for Bright Spear's eyes to widen at. She has any window she wants to choose from. She can even watch a wide array of shows and movies in HD. She doesn't. She ends up falling asleep.
Avery sits where she is, looking out the window. She thinks she should try and nap.
She doesn't.
She can't.
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