stray.

Reverence of Dawn

Avery does not return his reflexive courtesy. Not out of anger or impatience, but because she is deliberately not here on a social call. She follows him into the room, closes it behind them. With a look around, she wonders if he's squatting and feels a flash of frustration; is shaming himself a compulsion? She says nothing; sighs slightly as Midsummer begins babbling about Iron Tooth, and stands herself still in the middle of the room.

"Tell me about Ilyana."

-midsummer-

A flick of a glance. "Why? What do you want to know?"

Reverence of Dawn

Once again, Avery tamps down her rising rage.

"Tell me," she repeats, just as slowly, just as patiently, so that only one of them is twitching, "about Ilyana. Begin, if that makes it easier on you, with your meeting."

[Truth of Gaia!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )

-midsummer-

With a grimace, Midsummer's Shadow looks away again. Looks out that enormous, frameless window, out across the parking lot and the Strip and the city; out to the desert.

"I met her a year ago," he says. "It was back when the fomor raids were really a problem. A lot of the elders worried about their kin. Worried they'd be compromised or injured or killed while they were at war. So some safehouses were set up, and most of the Cliaths were assigned to guard duty. I guess we weren't important enough to do anything else.

"I got assigned to Ilyana. Plus two others. Ilyana stood out right from the start. She was just so ... remarkable. Beautiful and aloof and delicate and vicious all at once. Well, you've met her. You know.

"We were together for weeks. Living in the same house, eating around the same table. She was mated to Iron Tooth, of course. But there was chemistry there, right from the start. It was undeniable. Elemental. As simple as male and female, Garou and kin. It didn't really matter to me that she was Shadow Lord, or even that she belonged to another. She was just ... magnetic to me.

"She always held me at a distance, though. I used to think maybe she didn't feel the way I felt. Maybe I imagined it. But now, with everything said and done, I know it was because she was afraid of her mate. Didn't want to risk his anger, dallying with a Cliath. I understand. I don't blame her. Still: on that last night, she opened up to me. It must have been because she knew our time was coming to an end, you see. She wanted to connect while there was still a chance.

"She told her her story. How she was mated when she was fifteen. Fifteen! And to a monster, this cold brute of a Shadow Lord who misused her and abused her, never ever showed her a scrap of affection. This monster she was bound to, and this monster she was returning to.

"I begged her to let me take her away from him. She wouldn't hear of it. She called me a fool; she must have been afraid for me. I told her I would find a way. She told me not to. No, never. Then she wished me goodnight, and she walked up the stairs."

Midsummer's Shadow's voice has run soft. His eyes are far away, farther than even the horizon with its distant clouds. His eyes shutter for a moment, then open again.

"I nearly lost heart. But the look she gave me over her shoulder... I knew then she wanted me too. She wanted me to help her. She wanted to be free."

A brief quiet. Then he turns.

"So I helped her. I kept the vow in my heart. I planned her escape. I smuggled information to her the best I could in what little time we could snatch together. It took me a year, but finally all the pieces were in place. On the appointed day, at the appointed time, she did what I told her to. She faked her own death and then she came to find me. We ran.

"But that bastard she was mated to -- he framed me. He must have put the rumor out himself, or at least planted the seed. No one else would have. Before I was even out of Denver, my Beta called me and told me everyone was saying I killed her. They were all after me.

"That's what he wants. He wants some other idiotic do-gooder to kill me. And then he could do whatever he wants with Ilyana, with no one left to tell the tale. But now you're in the equation. And that's too many variables. I'd wager my life on it: he's going to kill all of us personally if he can."

Reverence of Dawn

[WP -1]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Reverence of Dawn

Everything he says to her, he believes to be true. Everything Ilyana said, she believed to be true. Everyone has told her the truth, even if not the whole truth, even if it took them a moment to get there, as with Midsummer's Beta.

Avery tips her head slowly to the side as he speaks, determining that yes, Ilyana has the measure of this wolf: he is a fool. There's a twitch of an eyelash when he uses the word 'remarkable' to describe Ilyana, but no more. As he goes on and on, romanticizing their meeting, their discussions, every aspect of this, Avery struggles not to just outright dismiss him. She has not done so with anyone yet. She rarely lets emotions like those get the better of her. She keeps her hands folded, her legs crossed, and she does not argue with him.

She does not tell him anything, in fact. She merely tips her head like that, with patience he lacks, and says:

"After you and Ilyana ran," she says, going back before his rant at the end about how he was framed. "What then?"

-shadow-

"Like I said. Before we even got out of Denver proper, my Beta was calling me. Telling me the Sept was in an uproar, they'd seen the mess, everyone was saying it was me. Everyone! Why would they think that? It wasn't as though we'd left anything there to point to me. I wanted them to think it was just some random attack, some Dancer or fomor or something. And why not? The mate of a powerful Adren: that'd be a prize for any Wyrmling.

"But no. They said it was me. It must have been Iron Tooth that slipped that rumor into the air. He'd seen me with his mate, and he must've seen the affection we had for each other. He hated me.

"So what could I do? I ran, with Ilyana. I took her south, hid her away in the desert. Everyone thought she was dead; no one would bother to look for her. Or so I thought. And as for me: I kept running. I came to Las Vegas because it was far from Iron Tooth. Because people come and go here all the time. You can get lost in the crowd here.

"I'll have to run again. Maybe Mexico this time. Or maybe I'll go overseas, maybe take refuge in the Silver Fang courts of Europe." Midsummer's Shadow raises his eyes to the skies; grimaces at the glaring sun overhead, the thunderheads over the desert. "I need allies on my side. I can't run forever, and now that the truth is starting to come out there's no way he'll just let me go."

Reverence of Dawn

It takes Midsummer a very long time to get around to answering her question. He repeats himself, aghast at everyone's presumption, and Avery nearly interrupts him to tell him yes, she knows: his Beta called and he was framed and onoz, but she doesn't. She lets him go on, and on, until he finally tells her what she really asked. He took her south, and then he kept running. No reason given, other than -- as best she can tell -- his own cowardice.

The doomed hero. Not to run away with his damsel after he's saved her from her distress -- no! -- he must go on alone, into the west and even across the globe, with only a few itinerant companions to come and go from his life, allies who will comfort him, even if they cannot defend him. And one day his fate will catch up to him.

Avery wonders if his particular madness is not just delusion, but self-sabotage. But she's not his therapist.

--

For a long time after he speaks, Avery says nothing. She wants time to think, to deliberate. She wants to be able to include Ilyana and Iron Tooth in her judgement, for neither of them are innocent, either, but she must also keep her oath to Ilyana, fulfill her challenge, and do her duty to her tribe and her moon. Her eyes close, and she feels all these responsibilities inside of her, inside the clatter and chaos of every thought she has ever had, every feeling. Slowly, she begins to filter out the rest, releasing things that matter and things that do not matter in turn until all that is left is a clear, cool darkness. Then: the duties she has and the players in this shine like individual stars, a constellation cradled in the celestial clarity of Avery's mind and soul.

Her eyes open.

"Yuf," she murmurs, "you have wronged your pack, Ilyana, Iron Tooth-rhya, your sept, and your tribe. Can you not see that?" she asks him, her brow furrowing, her tone barely above a whisper.

She shakes her head slightly, her heart aching in the midst of her rage. "Do you feel no shame?"

-shadow-

Midsummer's Shadow snaps around, indignation flaring in his eyes. "I have done what was right! What would you have done? Watched while Ilyana suffocated under his oppression? Watched as all her beauty and brightness dimmed to nothing? Watched until one day he finally kills her, one way or another?

"You stand there judging me like all the right. You, who of all people actually know the truth. What right do you have? What would you have done?"

-shadow-

[ahem: ALL THE REST. i kan be spall.]

Reverence of Dawn

That look of ache has replaced for her the feelings of rage that threatened for a moment to overwhelm her. She pities him. It is evident.

"I do know the truth, yuf," she says. "And it is greater, and far less romantic, than the fictions you have constructed to justify what you have done."

Avery rises to her feet then, slowly, her hands still folded. "Your Alpha is consumed with rage: I am not sure if it is on your behalf or in actuality directed at you. Your Beta was driven to lie to me to try and protect you. Your other brother is deeply shamed; he is repulsed by what he saw in Iron Tooth-rhya's den, and believes you to be a murderer, and possibly a rapist, and certainly a madman.

"Iron Tooth-rhya would have been glad to be rid of Ilyana, and does not love her or want her. All the same, he cares only about winning. He believes you took her from him, and would see you flayed alive for it."

She pauses a moment, then takes a breath. "Perhaps the truth I know that is of greatest consequence to you is the one that will shame you most to hear: Ilyana does not want you. She never wanted you. She wants to be away from Iron Tooth-rhya, but she wants to be away from you, too -- all our people, in fact. She knew your plan would not work. She thinks you are blind, and that both of you will die. And she doesn't care." Avery repeats this back to him, standing in place, still as a sculpture. "Leaving with you was, for Ilyana, only an act of defiance against a mate whose murder of her she has accepted as an inevitablity. Perhaps even a welcome escape."

Avery unfolds her hands, letting them fall to rest at her sides. "As for my right to judge you, it has been given to me by a half-moon of our tribe who outranks us both, and it has been given to me by Gaia and Luna by birth. As for what I would have done, it is a non-issue. But Midsummer-yuf: you are guilty of crimes against many, however pure you think your motives. And in my striving to fulfill my duty and make this right, you must be punished."

-shadow-

"No."

That is what Midsummer says, as soon as Avery gives him the brutal truth of it: Ilyana does not want you. He shakes his head in heavy, adamant sweeps, back and forth, back and forth. The sun has gone behind a cloud outside. It is dim now in the room, but there are shadows in his eyes that have nothing to do with the lighting.

"No. That's not true. Maybe that's what she said to you because she doesn't know or trust you, but that is not true."

He's not even listening to her. Not listening to her claim her right of judgment, not listening to her proclaim him guilty despite his better intentions.

"You just don't know her. You don't know her, you don't know me, you don't know anything about anything, you have no right to say that, you're wrong. She. LOVES ME."

Reverence of Dawn

If she were a gentler creature -- not a wolf, not a Silver Fang, not a Philodox, not Avery Chase -- then this would be punishment enough, in her eyes. Watching him, she can see it sinking into the marrow of his bones even as she shakes his head and says no, no, and she knows that no matter how powerful his delusion, that thread of doubt will infect him forever. If he is not already mad, he could become so from this. Deeply, catastrophically mad.

"You know I have the gift of truth," she says softly to him, as the room grows a few shades darker. "And you know that the things you have done were predicated on a foundation not of stone, not even of sand, but on the smoke from the chimney.

"Just as you know," Avery says, her voice clearer, a touch heavier, an indication of warning, "that if you run again, you will be found, and you will not be saved."

-shadow-

Even a Ragabash has rage. And even the rage of a Ragabash may, at times, be strained so far that it simply

snaps.

Midsummer's Shadow roars. And roaring, wheels: grabs the nearest thing at hand -- the dresser -- and heaves it to the floor. Drawers bang open, crack on inconvenient edges, tumble across the carpet. Midsummer follows, near-man form now, grabs a drawer and throws it; hits the window. The glass, far too expensive and well-made to break, simply deforms, bounces that drawer back. Knocks a lamp off the coffee table.

As quick as it had come, his rage departs. Midsummer collapses in a heap amidst the sudden wreckage, head in his hands. He makes a noise, half keen and half bellow.

And then silence. Just his breathing, heavy and ragged.

Reverence of Dawn

[WP -1]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Reverence of Dawn

Reverence of Dawn is unmoved.

For a sharp moment, her pupils dilate and all around her, she feels her body ready itself to snap from shape to shape, to put him down, to hold him back, to dominate him as both necessity and instinct both could drive her to do.

The drawer hits the window and it shudders, but does not even crack. The lamp hits the carpet with a thud but that, too, remains intact, glowing from a new angle. Avery's shoulders are square, her gaze unblinking, her body motionless. She watches as Midsummer goes from enraged to keening

to collapsing

to silence.

Reverence of Dawn

[Right now, Avery is thinking that Midsummer doesn't deserve much mercy: he conspired with a mated kinswoman to fake her death, ran off with her, then abandoned her in the desert with a gun and no money. Even though she does NOT consider kinfolk to be 'territory' covered under the Litany tenet most often used regarding these situations, Midsummer has still trespassed against a garou of higher station, shamed his pack, and risked the life and welfare of a kinfolk of another tribe -- all big problems. He has lied, he has shown cowardice, and... well, he's also delusional and pretty much a douchebag.

On the other hand, he doesn't deserve execution. She doesn't think his crimes warrant that extreme of a response, particularly since he did not actually enter Iron Tooth-rhya's territory himself, he did not actually coerce or force Ilyana to fake her death and run away, and Ilyana certainly is not dead, nor did they have an affair, which might -- in the minds of other garou, if not Avery -- give legitimacy to a call for having him killed.

Some of the ideas she has/I have are for Midsummer to formally and publically surrender to Iron Tooth. Initially this idea came about because it's also in the Litany to accept an honorable surrender, and everyone knows how big of a deal it is for a Silver Fang to offer surrender... but this isn't a duel or challenge in the ring, so Iron Tooth may not be compelled to accept the surrender. However, if he doesn't, he will have to take his vengeance there and then, quickly and neatly, and that will be the end of it: he can't drag it out, he can't do it in secret, and he can't make it look like the honorable widower taking righteous vengeance, with Ilyana known to be alive.

Speaking to that: Avery is about 98% sure that what Iron Tooth wants is to find them, kill Ilyana himself, then kill Midsummer or drag him back to kill him at the sept, and possibly kill Avery and Bright Spear in the meantime as witnesses, then claim that Midsummer did it or that she and Bright Spear defended Midsummer and he had no choice. Given her reputation, which she's aware, she THINKS he might be smarter than to try that kind of shit, but she's not sure. He seems to get away with a lot.

Back to punishment ideas, Avery is also considering the Rite of Ostracism. He abandoned the sept, he abandoned his pack, then he abandoned Ilyana, now he's talking about running away to Europe or Mexico like some idiot. And she doesn't intend to see him ostracized for a 'turning of the moon', either: she's considering exiling him from the caern/septs permanently. She's also considering the utter shame and cowardice and lack of loyalty he's shown to pack/sept/tribe, and for that, she doesn't think it would be unfair to... well. Submit him to an avatar of Falcon to see if their tribal totem will even accept him as a Silver Fang any longer, and cast him out if not. I'm actually leaning more in this direction because it is more separated from having to dance through whatever machinations Iron Tooth has in mind/in play... which aren't the focus of her challenge.

This is sort of separate from her challenge, but related in that she made an oath: she does want to reveal Ilyana's survival, but with the truth. She faked her death, ran away from her mate, and -- though it disgusts Avery that this has to even be in an argument -- could be said to be 'unworthy' of Iron Tooth, and that he should be relieved of a mate who has born him no cubs and shamed him by running away. Chances are she won't be wanted by other garou and she might be able to get some freedom from that being out in the open. Might keep Iron Tooth from killing them all or Ilyana killing herself. But that's just amorphous thoughts right now.]

Reverence of Dawn

[Intelligence + Law (settling disputes)]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 7 ) Re-rolls: 2 [WP]

Reverence of Dawn

Slowly, Avery crosses the room towards Midsummer's Shadow. She watches him for flinches, twitches, any sign that might suggest he's going to lunge up at her. If he doesn't, she slowly stops a few inches from him, within arm's reach but not sharing his breath. Her hand starts to reach down to rest on his shoulderblade, then she thinks better of it. She remains standing there, looking down at him.

"You will not be executed," she tells him quietly. "But you have disrespected a garou of higher station. You have deserted your pack. You have shamed the tribe of Falcon. You abandoned a kinfolk of another tribe in the desert, leaving her to whatever fate or the Wyrm might bring. You are guilty of cowardice and of disregarding the Litany. You are guilty of deceit and conspiracy against the honor and den of another garou.

"Perhaps worst of all, you have done all these things on the basis of a delusion. A sickness and weakness of the mind that you have allowed to control you, leaving your packmates, your tribemates, fellow garou and even a kinswoman to pick up the pieces of what you have sundered."

There is a silence. His breathing; her luminous presence above him. As though she is Luna herself, looking down on him in the desert in the dark night of his soul.

"Do you have anything to say before I pronounce and carry through your judgement, yuf?" she asks him, because,

sometimes,

true justice can a mercy.

Reverence of Dawn

[Charisma + Leadership (compelling) + Falcon + PB]

Dice: 14 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 9 ) Re-rolls: 2

Reverence of Dawn

[Charisma + Law (settling disputes): thou shalt see the rightness of mine judgement + PB]

Dice: 11 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 7 ) Re-rolls: 2

-shadow-

Avery can see it:

the resistance. The wall his mind throws up. Perhaps at this point Midsummer doesn't even want to believe. But he can't help it. He believe his delusions because that is what they are. That is what madness is. A sickness. Claws in your mind. A lead weight around your thoughts, always dragging them down, down, down to where you don't want to follow.

She can see him recoiling from her words. Disrespect. Desertion. Shame. Abandonment. Deceit. Conspiracy. Dishonor.

Guilty.

And --

and.

She can see, too, the moment that shell of madness cracks. Just for a moment. Just enough to let that light in. Let it shine down to the depths where Midsummer's madness has dragged him; remind him of daylight. A sickness, she calls it. A weakness of the mind that you have allowed to control you --

but it is not you. That is implied.

Midsummer lifts his head. There are tears on his cheeks, which he does not seem to feel. He shakes his head, but it doesn't seem to mean anything. There is no blue sky remaining outside. Those thunderheads on the horizon have gathered, have cloaked the sky. In the dimness of the room, those tear-tracks barely even gleam.

"Whatever I've done," he whispers, "I did it with the best of intentions. Whatever has become of it all, at least she got out.

"Whatever you do to me, keep her away from him."

Reverence of Dawn

I know,

she wants to tell him, and

I understand.

But Avery does not say these things. She does not sink down to put her hand on his shoulder or offer him forgiveness. That is not for her to give. She is his judge. He makes a plea, and it rends at her heart, but she does not nod. She makes him no oath. For soon, there will be no name to oath to.

Avery takes a breath.

"For disrespect to those of higher station, you will lose the renown of your deeds. You will be brought low, and all lifted above you, knowing that only through giving what is due to those of higher station will you, in turn, be given the respect due to you.

"For suffering your people to tend to your sickness, you will lose the name of Midsummer's Shadow. You will come to see this as a mercy, to be separated from the dishonor you have brought to that name, but you will not be known to our people. While you are a cub, we will call you Stray: a dog's name, the name for a runaway, an interloper, one who goes where he is not welcome, leaves the places he should stay, and permits his eyes and thoughts to wander as they should not. You will not feel this as a mercy, and you will be mocked until your deeds raise you above that name.

"But you will remember it, always," Avery says, her voice dropping slightly, heavily.

"As you are punished in this way, you will of course be of no name, no tribe, and no pack. Should you ever be granted a Rite of Passage again, you will face Falcon and know that the stain of this dishonor may still be on your spirit; he may not take you back. You may return to the pack you once knew to seek their forgiveness, their protection from harm during your cubhood, and maybe one day acceptance under their totem again. You may only pray that whatever love they may still have for you makes them willing to take on and live under the shadows of your misdeeds."

She takes a step back from him, then points to the center of the room. "Go there. You may stand or kneel."

-shadow-

It is a heavy sentence.

Midsummer -- no; that is his name no longer. The cub, Stray: his shoulders seem to weigh down with every word out of Avery's mouth. Every line added to his punishment. His renown: gone. His rank: gone. His name: gone. His pack: gone. The blessings of Falcon, even: gone.

What is given to him instead -- a name that is in and of itself both a punishment and a reminder of what he has done. Stray. He lifts a hand and scrubs hastily, roughly at his cheeks. Then he nods, and gets to his feet, and walks to the center of the room. Seems to hesitate a moment; a flicker of pride, of stubbornness flaring.

--

There is lightning outside. A crack of it across the sky: a sudden storm at the precipice of summer and fall, gathered in mere moments. This is how the desert works: sudden, harsh, with little warning.

The same could be said of Garou justice.

--

Stray goes to his knees in the center of the room, in the end. His hands are on his thighs; his head is bowed.

Reverence of Dawn

There's no dragging him back to the caern so the grownups can judge him or so that Iron Tooth can have his say. There's no packmates summoned or wolves in Las Vegas found and brought here. There is no great trial stretching out for days or weeks or longer. There is no jury. There are no advocates. Just Reverence of Dawn, pointing him to the place where he will accept his punishment.

He goes to his knees. She pauses a moment, glancing out the window, feeling her way to the four corners, and when she has it, she walks to the south side of the garou she has condemned. Standing facing him, she lifts her eyes,

and her voice.

"Boar, once totemic patron of Midsummer's Shadow. Of all Gaia's children, I have no such brother."

Avery turns to her left, closing her eyes, showing him her back. The energy is rising in the room, from the storm outside and the invocation of corners, spirits, the celestial and earthly saints of their people. Avery opens her eyes again and walks to the east, turning -- still counter-clockwise -- another 180 degrees to face him again.

"Falcon, once father in spirit and by heritage to Midsummer's Shadow. Of all Gaia's children, I have no such brother."

She turns, eyes closing. She walks to the North, orbiting him. The room feels colder than it did several moments ago. It is as though the very air hears the calls to these patrons and spirits the messages to them instantly, and in the name of the rite, those spirits remove their blessing. Avery does not allow herself to wonder how it feels for the one who will be called Stray; she is not sure she wants to imagine.

"Luna, queen who bestowed glory, honor, and wisdom upon Midsummer's Shadow. Of all Gaia's children, I have no such brother."

Once more, she turns, shading her eyes and showing her back. Once more she walks, turns again, faces him from the West. Her voice is low; the air itself seems to shudder. The building around them seems to be alive and moving, somehow, as though trying to pull away from this punished creature.

"Gaia."

Avery takes a breath.

"Mother of us all, since time began and til time ends. Bless and seal my rite upon Midsummer's Shadow, for he has broken the laws of our people and dishonored the gifts you have bestowed upon your chosen." She exhales, and her voice falls to a whisper.

"Of all your children, we have no such brother."

--

There is one final turn. Widdershins away from him, her eyes closing for a final time. She feels the circle complete itself, and senses the terrible, howling vacuum behind her, and all around her. She opens her eyes. She does not turn around again, does not look upon him again. No:

Avery walks to the door in a few long but unhurried strides. The sound of the door handle rasps and clacks noisily in the silence as she twists it, slowly walking out of the room. She hears no words or cries that he gives; she acknowledges nothing about his continued existence. She leaves him there, to live or die as best he can when all garou who meet him will feel the hollowness of his punishment like an aura around him. For weeks, at least. For months, possibly.

And in a way: for the rest of his life.

--

She takes the elevator down. She goes to find Bright Spear and Ilyana, under a darkened sky and the flashes of storm.

Reverence of Dawn

[Charisma (charming? because she's charming the spirits!) + Rituals]

Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (4, 6, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1 [WP]