Ghost Again
Apr. 17th, 2015 04:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hollowstormRan into Ghost again. Man she really unnerves me. It's like we're just constantly going to be at it with each other. I suppose it can't be helped. I don't trust her, and she doesn't like me. If I could just figure out why she seems off...
It's a clear, beautiful day, apart from being considerably cold for mid-April, and Ghost isn't out enjoying it. Instead, the young woman has commandeered the punching bag in the converted barn, which she's currently using to great effect. Her form doesn't speak to boxing, but it does speak to some considerable training in a style that's not immediately recognizable. Something sharp, and hard, and fast. She doesn't stay in one place as she works either, instead moving lightly but deliberately after each blow--sometimes back, sometimes forward, sometimes to either side--in a way that defies a recognizable pattern. She's discarded both jacket and long sleeved shirt to a neat sort of heap off to one side, and rolled up the sleeves of her t-shirt. A faint sheen of sweat can be seen on her arms and face, suggesting she's been at this for a while.
The door to the upstairs loft of the garage opens- the one that leads to the second floor of the house. No voice follows that creaking of the door, and only after a moment does a face appear over the edge of the loft, curious at first, and then frowning with uncertainty.
The garage door is normally left open when someone is inside, more to disperse the heat from working out than the inevitable smell that rises from sweaty garou, but for now it's kind of closed to keep the heat in, thanks to the cool April weather. Charlene, walking by on her way to the house, hears the sound of punches landing on the bag and decides to take a look inside. "Morning?" she calls as a bit of a warning before stepping inside, looking about to see who is causing a bit of the old ultraviolence.
It's not entirely clear whether Ghost notices; there's a slight movement to her head that might be a glance upwards, but it happens so quickly and without so much as a tiny pause in her routine that one might be easily convinced they imagined it. Her blows to the punching bag continue unabated, and unrestrained, up until Charlene enters. She stops immediately, with one hand resting fingertips out against the bag to prevent being walloped from behind as she jerks her head over to look toward the newcomer. Dark eyes narrow faintly. "Hello," she says. Cautious, careful.
Jenelle remains upstairs for the time being, though she moves toward where the ladder is and sets herself down so that her legs hang over the edge. She looks toward Charlene and offers a small wave in her direction.
"Hello yourself." The woman, tall and blonde, comes closer, pushing her hat back to look at the new person, stopping a good distance away - basically putting her center of the barn, away from the door. Totally not threatening at all. "Don't think we've met. I'm Charlene." Her head cants slightly to the right as she regards Ghost. "Song-of-Vengeance, Galliard of the Black Furies, Groundskeeper of the bawn, alpha of a pack under Otter. And you are?"
"Ghost," the stranger replies. She's tense, that's clear, but some of the tightness eases as Charlene moves away from the door itself. This time, she definitely glances toward Jenelle before giving Charlene most of her attention. "I'm a Ragabash. Your Alpha said I could come to this uh, to Edgewood. That's what you call it, right?"
Jenelle keeps her attention mostly on Ghost during this exchange. With a deep breath she turns around at the ladder and starts climbing carefully down to the ground floor.
"It's what we call it and what the place is for, yep." Charlene says as she hooks her thumbs in the loops of her belt, looking over as Jenelle makes her way down the ladder to the floor proper. "This place is near the bawn and is open for pretty much anyone to come and do what they need to do. Decompress. Heal. Train, like you are. Get some food that isn't from a paper sack. Y'know. Stuff." She grins, glancing to Jenelle before looking back to Ghost. "No tribe yet?"
"Yet?" Ghost echoes, sounding confused. "Oh. Oh! No, uh. No, I'm not a cub." Another glance toward Jenelle. "Just a guest, sort of. Not an official guest, I guess, but Jacinta-rhya knows I'm around."
Jenelle brushes off her hands as she lets go of the ladder, turning to exchange another glance with Ghost as she relays to Charlene her story. She remains quiet yet though, content to let Charlene field her own questions.
Charlene mms and nods. "Well then. Welcome to the Sept of the Triquetal Accord. If you need any help, directions, sparring partners, or a place to sleep, I'm sure we can oblige you."
Ghost's right eyebrow arches upward considerably. "Sure," she says neutrally, and then, after a long-ish, awkward pause, "Thanks." She turns now, though not enough to have her back fully to either of the Garou, and presses a little harder on the punching bag, apparently angling back into her workout stance.
Jenelle lets out a little tchtk sound at the exchange and moves from the ladder over to where Charlene is standing. "You said you'd be willing to teach me, yes? I think maybe we should just start working on it. I don't like sitting idly."
Charlene's attention swivels to Jenelle as she approaches, turning to face the Shadow Lord with a nod. "I'm willin' to teach you, sure. Bein' a Theurge, talkin' to spirits is kind of important." She chuckles. "If you don't mind learnin' from a Galliard, of course."
Ghost's gaze ticks over toward Jenelle at the noise. She starts to say something, but only starts. Instead, she suddenly begins pounding the punching bag again, in the same manner as before and just as forcefully.
Jenelle lifts a shoulder, "If you're capable, I don't really mind what auspice you are. Learning is learning. I can't really offer you anything in return though." As the other begins work on the bag, she turns her attention partly that way, eyes intent on the other.
"There's a philosophy I tend to follow, for things that people need to know. Rites, like binding clothes to yourself, or things that need to be known for someone to be more effective, I teach with the expectation that, in the future sometime, it's passed along to someone who should know it, in your opinion." Charlene glances to Ghost now, motioning for Jenelle to come sit with her on the gym mats. "Same goes for you, y'know. If you c'n get permission from your elder, I'll teach you how to bind your clothes to you so they don't shred when you shift."
Ghost spares another glance toward Charlene, but there's no break in her punches. "I don't have an elder," she says. "I know that rite, anyhow, but thanks."
Jenelle raises a brow at the invitation toward the mats. "I'm not gonna sit over there while she's beating the crap out of that bag." Her shoulders roll back tensely, "We don't need to start now. In fact, I'd prefer we go someplace quiet and out of the way to start the lesson. Maybe this afternoon if you're free?"
"Or in the evening." Charlene agrees after a moment, looking to Ghost. "We can meet at the park in town. It's pretty bright there, thanks to the fetish in the umbra, and I can bring Paumy 'round so you can practice with him. That said..." She trails off. "Do you to know each other?"
Ghost rolls her eyes ceilingward. "I'm not going to fucking hit you," she mutters, loudly enough that she can be heard. At Charlene's question, she stops her training activities again. "I guess? She's got some kind've problem with me, but if it's anything other than the usual she won't spit it out."
"Don't be ignorant. There are plenty of reasons to have a problem with you." Jenelle offers a tighter frown at this. "I really don't know why they let you run around here like nothing's wrong."
Charlene blinks, looking from Jenelle to Ghost and back again. "We're all Garou here." she begins, slowly. "There ain't no reason to get all uppity on such a small moon. If she hits ya? Hit her back. Rather you talk out what the big hubbub is b'fore gettin' to that point, though."
"Other than the usual," Ghost repeats, this time with emphasis. "Besides, /you/ attacked /me/." A glance toward Charlene. "So which reason is it then?"
Jenelle looks back to Charlene, "So says the shark to the cod that they're all fish." At Ghost's reminder of the incident, the Shadow Lord scowls more. "Any sane garou would have done the same as I in that scenario. I bet that's not even the first time it's happened to you."
"Technically sharks /are/ fish with cartaligious skeletons..." Charlene says with a frown at the escalation between Ghost and Jenelle. "And it still isn't a reason to get all uppity on such a small moon. Someone start tellin' me what happened? And what usual reason, Ghost?"
Ghost snaps, "Would you just spit it out already?" She runs a hand roughly over the back of her neck in a sharp, irritable gesture. "First time it's happened when I was trying to stop a frenzy, yeah. The first time it's happened when I was trying to help a bunch of Nation jackasses? No. How does that reflect badly on me, exactly?" Charlene's question pulls her attention, if not nearly the majority of it. "I'm Metis and I look like a Dancer. I'm practically Ronin and not a member of the Garou Nation. I've got..." Hesitation in the midst of her temper. "An unusual fetish. The magic, spirit kind, I mean."
Jenelle fails to hold back the, "Hah!" that she'd been fighting. "And you really question why I have a problem with you? Any one of those things could have you run out, or killed, in stricter septs. But here? They've practically given a fox a key to the hen house."
Charlene remains quiet, watching the pair, listening, even looking at Ghost with one eye, the other covered by the brim of her hat - sensing wyrm. Finally, she speaks. "Enough, Jenelle. Enough." She fixes the shadow-lord with a stern glance, looking back to Ghost, pushing the brim of her hat up with the thumb of her right hand. "In case you aren't aware, we're one of the strongest septs left, and we can use everyone we can get. Metis, I don't care. Hell, this sept don't care. We don't cull unless there's a damn good reason, and those two ain't good enough. You shouldn't care either, Jenelle. Anything Ghost's parents did to break the litany is on them. Ain't on her that she's Metis. I mean, our last sept alpha was a metis Bone Gnawer, for gaia's sake." Charlene sighs, looking back to Ghost. "I admit, the dancer thing could be a problem in battle with other dancers, but...." Charlene shrugs. "Might make you a good infiltrator, lookin' like them an' all. That said....unusual fetish?" That does get her attention.
"And has," Ghost says sharply. She moves away from the punching bag, toward her discarded jacket and button up shirt. "I'm not surprised you've got a problem with me, I'm annoyed you wouldn't just /say/ it. It's not like I haven't uh, haven't heard all of that before." She shakes her head at Charlene, "No, let her. She can say what she wants, as long as she actually says it. It's not going to bruise my precious tender feelings." There's a beat, and then a sudden snort, half irritable still, but also half amused. "My parents. Right."
Jenelle bites back another growl as she's admonished by the Fury. "Enough then. My apologies." It's laced with fire as she offers it, and then she turns toward the door in attempt to leave.
Charlene steps out of the way as Jenelle heads for the door, letting the Cliath defuse the situation by leaving.
Ghost snorts again, more to herself than the departing Shadow Lord, and bends to pick up her clothing. "...I don't look enough like them that they'd be fooled. Most of them aren't that stupid. Anyway, I'm not Wyrm tainted either, and they'd notice." She straightens.
It's a clear, beautiful day, apart from being considerably cold for mid-April, and Ghost isn't out enjoying it. Instead, the young woman has commandeered the punching bag in the converted barn, which she's currently using to great effect. Her form doesn't speak to boxing, but it does speak to some considerable training in a style that's not immediately recognizable. Something sharp, and hard, and fast. She doesn't stay in one place as she works either, instead moving lightly but deliberately after each blow--sometimes back, sometimes forward, sometimes to either side--in a way that defies a recognizable pattern. She's discarded both jacket and long sleeved shirt to a neat sort of heap off to one side, and rolled up the sleeves of her t-shirt. A faint sheen of sweat can be seen on her arms and face, suggesting she's been at this for a while.
The door to the upstairs loft of the garage opens- the one that leads to the second floor of the house. No voice follows that creaking of the door, and only after a moment does a face appear over the edge of the loft, curious at first, and then frowning with uncertainty.
The garage door is normally left open when someone is inside, more to disperse the heat from working out than the inevitable smell that rises from sweaty garou, but for now it's kind of closed to keep the heat in, thanks to the cool April weather. Charlene, walking by on her way to the house, hears the sound of punches landing on the bag and decides to take a look inside. "Morning?" she calls as a bit of a warning before stepping inside, looking about to see who is causing a bit of the old ultraviolence.
It's not entirely clear whether Ghost notices; there's a slight movement to her head that might be a glance upwards, but it happens so quickly and without so much as a tiny pause in her routine that one might be easily convinced they imagined it. Her blows to the punching bag continue unabated, and unrestrained, up until Charlene enters. She stops immediately, with one hand resting fingertips out against the bag to prevent being walloped from behind as she jerks her head over to look toward the newcomer. Dark eyes narrow faintly. "Hello," she says. Cautious, careful.
Jenelle remains upstairs for the time being, though she moves toward where the ladder is and sets herself down so that her legs hang over the edge. She looks toward Charlene and offers a small wave in her direction.
"Hello yourself." The woman, tall and blonde, comes closer, pushing her hat back to look at the new person, stopping a good distance away - basically putting her center of the barn, away from the door. Totally not threatening at all. "Don't think we've met. I'm Charlene." Her head cants slightly to the right as she regards Ghost. "Song-of-Vengeance, Galliard of the Black Furies, Groundskeeper of the bawn, alpha of a pack under Otter. And you are?"
"Ghost," the stranger replies. She's tense, that's clear, but some of the tightness eases as Charlene moves away from the door itself. This time, she definitely glances toward Jenelle before giving Charlene most of her attention. "I'm a Ragabash. Your Alpha said I could come to this uh, to Edgewood. That's what you call it, right?"
Jenelle keeps her attention mostly on Ghost during this exchange. With a deep breath she turns around at the ladder and starts climbing carefully down to the ground floor.
"It's what we call it and what the place is for, yep." Charlene says as she hooks her thumbs in the loops of her belt, looking over as Jenelle makes her way down the ladder to the floor proper. "This place is near the bawn and is open for pretty much anyone to come and do what they need to do. Decompress. Heal. Train, like you are. Get some food that isn't from a paper sack. Y'know. Stuff." She grins, glancing to Jenelle before looking back to Ghost. "No tribe yet?"
"Yet?" Ghost echoes, sounding confused. "Oh. Oh! No, uh. No, I'm not a cub." Another glance toward Jenelle. "Just a guest, sort of. Not an official guest, I guess, but Jacinta-rhya knows I'm around."
Jenelle brushes off her hands as she lets go of the ladder, turning to exchange another glance with Ghost as she relays to Charlene her story. She remains quiet yet though, content to let Charlene field her own questions.
Charlene mms and nods. "Well then. Welcome to the Sept of the Triquetal Accord. If you need any help, directions, sparring partners, or a place to sleep, I'm sure we can oblige you."
Ghost's right eyebrow arches upward considerably. "Sure," she says neutrally, and then, after a long-ish, awkward pause, "Thanks." She turns now, though not enough to have her back fully to either of the Garou, and presses a little harder on the punching bag, apparently angling back into her workout stance.
Jenelle lets out a little tchtk sound at the exchange and moves from the ladder over to where Charlene is standing. "You said you'd be willing to teach me, yes? I think maybe we should just start working on it. I don't like sitting idly."
Charlene's attention swivels to Jenelle as she approaches, turning to face the Shadow Lord with a nod. "I'm willin' to teach you, sure. Bein' a Theurge, talkin' to spirits is kind of important." She chuckles. "If you don't mind learnin' from a Galliard, of course."
Ghost's gaze ticks over toward Jenelle at the noise. She starts to say something, but only starts. Instead, she suddenly begins pounding the punching bag again, in the same manner as before and just as forcefully.
Jenelle lifts a shoulder, "If you're capable, I don't really mind what auspice you are. Learning is learning. I can't really offer you anything in return though." As the other begins work on the bag, she turns her attention partly that way, eyes intent on the other.
"There's a philosophy I tend to follow, for things that people need to know. Rites, like binding clothes to yourself, or things that need to be known for someone to be more effective, I teach with the expectation that, in the future sometime, it's passed along to someone who should know it, in your opinion." Charlene glances to Ghost now, motioning for Jenelle to come sit with her on the gym mats. "Same goes for you, y'know. If you c'n get permission from your elder, I'll teach you how to bind your clothes to you so they don't shred when you shift."
Ghost spares another glance toward Charlene, but there's no break in her punches. "I don't have an elder," she says. "I know that rite, anyhow, but thanks."
Jenelle raises a brow at the invitation toward the mats. "I'm not gonna sit over there while she's beating the crap out of that bag." Her shoulders roll back tensely, "We don't need to start now. In fact, I'd prefer we go someplace quiet and out of the way to start the lesson. Maybe this afternoon if you're free?"
"Or in the evening." Charlene agrees after a moment, looking to Ghost. "We can meet at the park in town. It's pretty bright there, thanks to the fetish in the umbra, and I can bring Paumy 'round so you can practice with him. That said..." She trails off. "Do you to know each other?"
Ghost rolls her eyes ceilingward. "I'm not going to fucking hit you," she mutters, loudly enough that she can be heard. At Charlene's question, she stops her training activities again. "I guess? She's got some kind've problem with me, but if it's anything other than the usual she won't spit it out."
"Don't be ignorant. There are plenty of reasons to have a problem with you." Jenelle offers a tighter frown at this. "I really don't know why they let you run around here like nothing's wrong."
Charlene blinks, looking from Jenelle to Ghost and back again. "We're all Garou here." she begins, slowly. "There ain't no reason to get all uppity on such a small moon. If she hits ya? Hit her back. Rather you talk out what the big hubbub is b'fore gettin' to that point, though."
"Other than the usual," Ghost repeats, this time with emphasis. "Besides, /you/ attacked /me/." A glance toward Charlene. "So which reason is it then?"
Jenelle looks back to Charlene, "So says the shark to the cod that they're all fish." At Ghost's reminder of the incident, the Shadow Lord scowls more. "Any sane garou would have done the same as I in that scenario. I bet that's not even the first time it's happened to you."
"Technically sharks /are/ fish with cartaligious skeletons..." Charlene says with a frown at the escalation between Ghost and Jenelle. "And it still isn't a reason to get all uppity on such a small moon. Someone start tellin' me what happened? And what usual reason, Ghost?"
Ghost snaps, "Would you just spit it out already?" She runs a hand roughly over the back of her neck in a sharp, irritable gesture. "First time it's happened when I was trying to stop a frenzy, yeah. The first time it's happened when I was trying to help a bunch of Nation jackasses? No. How does that reflect badly on me, exactly?" Charlene's question pulls her attention, if not nearly the majority of it. "I'm Metis and I look like a Dancer. I'm practically Ronin and not a member of the Garou Nation. I've got..." Hesitation in the midst of her temper. "An unusual fetish. The magic, spirit kind, I mean."
Jenelle fails to hold back the, "Hah!" that she'd been fighting. "And you really question why I have a problem with you? Any one of those things could have you run out, or killed, in stricter septs. But here? They've practically given a fox a key to the hen house."
Charlene remains quiet, watching the pair, listening, even looking at Ghost with one eye, the other covered by the brim of her hat - sensing wyrm. Finally, she speaks. "Enough, Jenelle. Enough." She fixes the shadow-lord with a stern glance, looking back to Ghost, pushing the brim of her hat up with the thumb of her right hand. "In case you aren't aware, we're one of the strongest septs left, and we can use everyone we can get. Metis, I don't care. Hell, this sept don't care. We don't cull unless there's a damn good reason, and those two ain't good enough. You shouldn't care either, Jenelle. Anything Ghost's parents did to break the litany is on them. Ain't on her that she's Metis. I mean, our last sept alpha was a metis Bone Gnawer, for gaia's sake." Charlene sighs, looking back to Ghost. "I admit, the dancer thing could be a problem in battle with other dancers, but...." Charlene shrugs. "Might make you a good infiltrator, lookin' like them an' all. That said....unusual fetish?" That does get her attention.
"And has," Ghost says sharply. She moves away from the punching bag, toward her discarded jacket and button up shirt. "I'm not surprised you've got a problem with me, I'm annoyed you wouldn't just /say/ it. It's not like I haven't uh, haven't heard all of that before." She shakes her head at Charlene, "No, let her. She can say what she wants, as long as she actually says it. It's not going to bruise my precious tender feelings." There's a beat, and then a sudden snort, half irritable still, but also half amused. "My parents. Right."
Jenelle bites back another growl as she's admonished by the Fury. "Enough then. My apologies." It's laced with fire as she offers it, and then she turns toward the door in attempt to leave.
Charlene steps out of the way as Jenelle heads for the door, letting the Cliath defuse the situation by leaving.
Ghost snorts again, more to herself than the departing Shadow Lord, and bends to pick up her clothing. "...I don't look enough like them that they'd be fooled. Most of them aren't that stupid. Anyway, I'm not Wyrm tainted either, and they'd notice." She straightens.
