Trace Garza (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trace_logs) wrote2016-05-09 10:00 am
trace_logs) wrote2016-05-09 10:00 am
Hair-trigger and self-control.
9 May, 2016
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (18% full).
Felix nods again, this time to Thane, "Yeah, basically, although I reckon can't get out of is more important if we had to pick, given, like you say, she already got some forces out here an'," he looks to Briari, "yeah, from what I've been told, she can see through their eyes. Sees what they see, knows what they know. We," from the glance, he apparently means the cougar, "were talkin' the other day about tryin' to cut their connection if we can't use it against 'em directly. Rock if it made 'em just collapse like puppets with their strings cut, but even if it just made 'em panic. I got the impression theirs is a lot more intense than a pack link is, like theirs is always passin' shit back an' forth, but that ain't first-hand or nothin', just… like I say, the impression I get from what folks've been sayin'." The four are all by the firepit this morning, and Felix leans forward a bit on the log he's sitting on, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, then takes another sip from his soda bottle. "Been thinkin' about a lotta shit, but nothin' I actually know how to DO, or even how someone else would." Another glance to the cougar, "Did you get to see the bodies yet?"
Around the edge of the the caern, a wolf can be seen making his way in, though for the moment Six-Shooter does not rush to immediately join the others.
"I have not yet been given an opportunity to examine the wraith's bodies. I would very much like to do so, though. Now that more pressing matters have been attended to," the cougar replies to Felix. "Based upon what I have observed, my suspicion— and this is merely my suspicion— is that the Queen periodically touches the minds of the wraiths, gathering information and issuing commands if need be. I do not think severing the link— if that is possible— will result in the wraiths no longer functioning. It should, however, result in them not coordinating very well while apart or in the heat of battle. Like a pack that lost its ability to communicate with one another through its totem spirit. The pack does not fall down, but the pack's effectiveness at functioning as a whole is weakened."
"Darn, I was kinda hoping they would be puppets," Briari says as she gives a stretch of her body, then waves to Six-Shooter as she spies him. Her nose wrinkles up a bit as she thinks for a few more minutes, then lets out a long sigh. "I will go about looking at some abandoned properties and see if I can make a cash deal on one in case we need a back up safe house, or a dummy house to blow up with the bad guys in it."
"And on that note, I'm going to see if there's any likely abandoned properties we can use and save the money." Thane says as he gets to his feet. "The primary goal is make sure people know to avoid Edgewood and be on high alert out here. We need to move fast. Briari, I will catch up with you later. I'll be back here in a few hours." The Lord resumes his Hispo form and heads back to the bawn, giving a passing whuff of greeting towards Six-Shooter as he goes.
Felix sighs, just a puff of breath that'd probably rustle his bangs if he had any. "Yeah, woulda been nice," he agrees, "…but yeah, even at that level you'd think it'd hurt their coordination. I ain't had a packlink to work with long, but it definitely helps with that. …I wonder if most of 'em can even talk? I mean," a fleeting sidelong glance toward Thane, "as far as I know, we ain't heard a peep outta most of 'em, the usual ones." He glances over at the hint of movement, recognizes the wolf, and greets it with a grin and a quick lift of the chin. "Later," he says to Thane as the Alpha takes his leave, and is about to take another sip of his drink when he pauses. "Wait, wait. Avoid Edgewood?" With Thane leaving, it's Briari and Brings-the-Pack he looks to with that.
Six-Shooter whuffs quietly in greeting and twists his head to watch the Shadow Lord depart, before heading down to the firepit. The Walker pads down towards the others, and twists his head sideways, almost an echo of Felix's question. Good morning, he adds.
"Yes. Avoid Edgewood," the cougar confirms with his usual electronically masked voice. "I sensed a strong undercurrent of change and chaos that may soon occur there and here, in the caern. They are the two most likely to be attacked places the garou currently use and inhabit. Though the future is always in motion, it seems probable something will happen in those two areas. It would be inadvisable for kin, cubs, or perhaps even young cliaths to stay at Edgewood."
"Well… fuck," Felix says, and glances skyward. "What shit I had left's at Edgewood. Not to mention food. Roofs. Hot runnin' water." Another of those sighs, this one somewhat heavier, and he takes a bigger, faintly aggressive swallow of his drink. "Fuck, the Caddy's parked there, too… well, fuck it, reckon I'm at least goin' back to get some shit. Mine, an' maybe some food an' the burners an' the infrared shit Lin brought…" The cougar and the homids are seated by the fire, and the wolf is just joining them. The Galliard looks to him, asking, "Wanna come with when I do?"
Six-Shooter nods, in a very human fashion. We should focus on the caern, but. There is a long pause, and Six-Shooter's tail thumps on the ground once, and then he shifts back to homid. "If we have a good idea of where things are coming, then we know where to focus our forces and such. The area of Edgewood should be part of patrols by more experienced Garou, if nothing else." He pauses. "Unless," he asks the cougar-mage, "you think that if the house is left empty they will simply leave it alone." And to Felix, he says, "Damn straight I will. I've got some stuff I left there too, even though I was in town last night."
Jamethon comes down into the Caern, using his signature Chimeric spear as a walking stick for no required purpose, other than he seems to enjoy it. Seeing the gathered around the pit, he heads on over their way. His expression is neutral, and his pace can be described as such, as well.
"They might leave Edgewood alone if it is abandoned. There's talk of formulating a trap of sorts, and a few other ideas being passed around. Share any ideas you come up with with Thane and Briari. But if I were you," the cougar advises the other garou around the fire, voice electronically masked to sound like Kylo Ren in his helmet, "I would not sleep there nor store valuables there nor let kin nor cubs reside there."
"I can go with you also. At least I can turn invisible and I can see them through my cyber senses where you guys can't. That way if there is trouble, I can let you know can bounce out." Briari says with a nod of her head.
Felix cracks a smile at the cougar, "If you were me we wouldn't know to avoid it." He nods to Briari, and sets his bottle down carefully to pull a small binocular sort of thing out of his pants pocket instead. "Lin left a bowl of these, 'sposed to work for seein' 'em too. But I'm pretty sure your way works slicker." He glances around with the binoculars as long as he has them out anyway; might as well. There's a pause in that when the gaze falls on Jamethon, and he lowers them to give the massive man a, "Mornin'. …anyway, I reckon if no one's at Edgewood it matters less if they do shit to it anyhow. Not that I wanna see it fucked up, but." Shrug. "Definitely caern priority."
Trace snorts, and not quite with amusement, but he simply nods and is silent for a bit. "I still got the binoculars you gave me, too," he tells Briari, "but yeah. We'll work it out." The newcomer gets a glance, and then more of a studying gaze, and then a polite inclination of his head as he offers his introduction. "I'm Trace Garza, called Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Glass Walkers." More generally, he adds, "I talked to Mouse yesterday and got things settled in terms of Chiminage. I need to teach three, any combination of rites and gifts." Whatever is off about the ahroun's grammar is quite easily explained by the hint of a Latin American Spanish accent when he talks.
Jamethon arrives near the group, his approach slow enough to listen to the conversation a bit before he arrives. He lifts the lightly glowing fetish from around his neck and presents it, "Perhaps the Fulgent Pendant can be of help. It can detect the presence and type of magic. I felt that with our recent troubles… this was a defense we needed." He gives an inscrutable and quick glance towards Brings for a moment before giving a more general look towards the group once more.
"Not a matter of being slick, just very efficient. I need to get stuff out of the house as well. We definitely need to scour the place and remove any contact information that may be lingering about," Briari says as she hops up to her feet again and dusts off her knees. "Morning James-rhya," She says to the large Fenrir. "Mage cat here says he shifts some major chaos coming to the Caern and to the house on Edgewood which is probably going to be an attack."
Brings-the-Pack rises from his haunches to regard the massive Get who has recently arrived. "If you would permit it at some future time, I would very much like to examine your pendant and discuss how it works," the feline says in English. "And as Briari has partially explained, I am Brings-the-Pack. A warper allied with the sept. I do not believe we have formally met before."
Felix quirks a brow at Briari. "'s what I said," he replies dryly, "…'slicker'." The binoculars are returned to the pocket, and he picks up the bottle again. "Is that the Fetish you were workin' on?" he asks Jamethon, sounding fairly impressed with the idea, and leans in a bit to look when it's presented, although given the height difference even if he weren't sitting, the inch or so a lean gives isn't going to particularly matter. "What counts as magic to it?"
"Or leave what information we want them to find," Trace points out, drumming lightly on his knee with the fingers of one hand. "If we are going to go through with the whole 'use it as a trap' plan, at least." He lifts his shoulders and offers Felix a broad grin. "Everyone also needs to coordinate parking their cars a significant distance from the Bawn, and in a variety of locations so no one car stands out. It'll suck somewhat, but taking the long way when possible going out to the Bawn is advisable, given everything that is going on."
Jamethon eyes the Gnawer Galliard with curiousity and holds out the pendant for closer inspection. "Magic. Active magic. Activated Fetishes, still working ritual effects, gifts, Warper spells, the disciplines of vampires, spirit powers, even those of what the spirit called hedge wizards and changelings. Perhaps more. But whatever it finds, must still be active. This it not a tool to see what was done in the past, but what is happening now." He looks more pointedly towards Brings-The-Pack and squints his eyes, "I am Jamethon Reflections-Howl, Adren Godi of the Fenrir and Gatekeeper of the Triquetral Accord. Your request, ally, is reasonable and with supervision I am willing to allow your examination in exchange for similar experimental information returning to us. We… can discuss details at your leisure."
Brings-the-Pack seems to concur with the Get. "Very well. At some future point. You will likely soon be hearing about how I have sensed a disruption inthe caern's future. I do not know when nor by what means, but there it is no real reach to realize that it is probably a future attack waged by the Queen and her minions. A similar fate appears to be in the cards for Edgewood. However, Harbor Park's glade does not appear to be a target. Thane has been alerted, and I suspect preparations for enhancing defenses may soon occur."
Felix grins back at Trace, and hops to his feet to go take a better look at the new Fetish, though he doesn't quite touch it. "Nice," he declares, no less impressed, "So basically everythin' we know about an' prolly some shit we don't. Kick ass." He heads back to where he was sitting, and stretches, careful not to spill. "The Caddy stands out no matter where she's parked," he says to the Walker as he sits again, not sounding at all displeased by this fact, "but yeah, I reckon you're right. Hafta think about where."
Trace doesn't move from where he's seated, but his attention is clearly on the Fetish for a long moment, curiosity evident in his gaze before he nods to Felix. "Yeah. Either that, or you need something that doesn't stick out as much for a bit, put your car somewhere safe in the mean time." He purses his lips. "There's a truck stop motel thing, out on the edge of town? Cars won't stick out as much parked there at least for a few days at a time, because it's somewhere that is more or less expected to have traffic. Nor can they keep track of if the people parked there are actually present, I'd think."
Jamethon looks over at the Warper and considers a moment, "Also, my bike is fast and though she don't look like much, she's built just as much for off-roading as the open road. Think you could make 'er quiet for a while? She'd be just about the fastest way to get between city and Bawn for someone who ain't got the legs for running and if she ain't gonna be loud it'd be a pretty neat trick to get in quick from an unexpected angle." He then takes places the Pendant back around his neck and touches the jade set into it with his middle-finger and focuses on activating it. The center stone suddenly swirls with color and then and becomes aglow with violetish-blue light. The Gatekeeper concludes, "The strong blue is the from the Spirit magics here in the Caern, but that violet tint comes from our Ally here," he indicates Brings though perhaps does not need to.
Brings-the-Pack cocks his head inquisitively as the fetish is demonstrate to those present. He seems to be paying it quite a bit of attention.
"Yeah, ain't a bad plan, just a long way," Felix says to Trace, "…actually, wonder how much it'd cost to actually have a room there? Reckon it'd have a shower. Although I s'pose whatever it was'd be a lot for a shower." A slight shrug, and he focuses on the Fetish being used instead, studying it. He looks to the mage-cat and opens his mouth, then shuts it with a small snort of laughter. "Caught myself about to ask whatcha had active," he tells the warper, "…then I remembered, right, cougar's a part time gig. Weird how easy it is to get used to chattin' with a robot-voiced cat." Says a guy who regularly turns into a wolf.
Trace lifts his shoulder. "It's not where I stayed the first night I was in town, but it might be worthwhile," he muses in response to Felix. "Showers are kinda muy importante, in my book." That, at least, is obvious enough what is being said. "And it's a long way, sure, but it's less of a long way on four legs, and there's plenty of woods and cover for the most part."
"Much, I am sure, as how easily I sometimes forget I am conversing with bloodthirsty werewolves," Brings-the-Pack responds to Felix. "And find myself wondering how hot showers can be such an obstacle when many of your kind live their lives in the woods. But," he adds, "Surely there must be a hot spring around here somewhere that would do in a pinch."
"I got a whole chapter on 'em," Felix replies to Trace, grinning, and to Brings, "…an' I dunno, I think I'm more beerthirsty, myself. Blood ain't real quenchin'. Anyhow, ain't like I can't live without showers, I just like 'em. There's reasons I ain't one of my kind that lives in the woods. …although bein' fair, didn't have runnin' water in the places in the city I was livin' before I got here, let alone hot, so." He shrugs. "Spring'd do in a pinch, other ways to deal with it too, but given the choice…"
Jamethon lowers the fetish back to rest on his chest though the light remains glowing gently. The Fenrir shakes his head at his fellow Garou and remakes to Brings', "It isn't an obstacle. It's a crutch." Diplomatic, ain't he? The Gatekeeper continues, "This trouble that is coming, Brings-The-Pack… in your visions, are there failed preparations or specific deaths that you witnessed?"
Trace offers Brings-the-Pack a very feral, toothy smile in response to the 'bloodthirsty' comment. "Some of us appreciate modern amenities given the chance," he notes. "After all, blood and such has a tendency to be… messy." Though the tone of voice seems to imply that the ahroun nonetheless doesn't mind.
"Vision?" Brings-the-Pack shakes his head negatively yet responds to Jamethon by claiming, "Unfortunately, I have no greater details that there is probably going to be something significant that happens at the caern and at Edgewood unless something happens to change that fate. The future is malleable, not fixed, so I imagine greater diligence, preparation, and actions taken to distract or mislead a potential foe might have positive outcomes for those two areas. But unaddressed, something will almost certainly happen."
Felix gives the heavens a brief, beseeching glance. "Ain't an obstacle OR a crutch. It's a luxury. But it's a fuckin' nice little one an' ain't nothin' wrong with that." He has a swallow of his drink, leaning back a bit and glancing around the caern consideringly.
Jamethon considers the words of the Warper, "There is much to learn about each other's magics. How they come to us seems to differ greatly." The Fenrir gives Felix a neutral glance, then looks back to Brings' without comment. He adds with gruff and concerned tones, "Your aid is greatly appreciated. Blood will be spilled, of that I am sure. Some of it ours and there is never much to be done about that." He then adds with less comfort towards Felix, "Luxury is the definition of a crutch."
"There is nothing 'potential' about the enemy that we are facing, nothing at all," Trace says, letting the words hang in the air after he says them, his jaw and hand both clenching until his fingers nearly dig into his knee, and in that moment he's on his feet— and thankfully turning away from the others present rather than towards anyone. His voice is harder and the words more forceful and clipped than usual, and the glare that comes with the words, though undirected, is full of pain, anger, hate, and a desire to do violence to something sooner than later, but willpower and ironclad control keeps any of that from coming into fruition as the ahroun stands nearly stone-still.
Brings-the-Pack seems to recognize when a garou is nearing the edge of frenzy. He goes motionless save for watching Trace's motion, perhaps an attempt by the large predator to not appear to be a threat. The results may be mixed.
"No it ain't. A crutch is somethin' you need to get along. A luxury's just a thing that makes life nicer, like chocolate or leather jackets," Felix says, but anything else along those lines is lost to Trace's remarks, and his following stance. He goes quiet, letting the Ahroun focus on self-control without distraction from his corner. At least for the moment.
Jamethon doesn't seem as concerned with the near-Frenzying Fostern, the Adren a little annoyed himself, at the moment. He looks over to Brings' and offers in a neutral bland tone of voice, "Your business here is concluded for the day, yes?" The Godi gestures around the immediate area of the firepit with a sweeping hand as he speaks.
Trace manages to push back the beast and the rage, but apparently not enough, because a low growl comes, and before he has turned around to sit back down again, the ahroun goes still once more, fingernails digging into his palm.
Brings-the-Pack responds by creeping backwards slowly and then walking— not running— away from Trace and towards the treeline.
Jamethon stands, and has managed to silently and quickly melt up into the Glabro body, facing Trace. His muscle fibers are like steel cables, able to be seen through dedicated clothing. The Fenrir has an expression, complete with parted lips revealing clenching teeth, that somehow mixes both apprehension and anticipation.
Felix rises, still holding his drink, and moves toward Trace— not quite his usual saunter, but a surprisingly casual walk nonethless— to get in front of him. "Trace," he says quietly, "Hey. We're good, yeah? This ain't LA." He watches the Ahroun closely while he talks, and there's a tiny pause before he adds, "You wanna get a smoke?"
Through the trees comes a curious Justin as it seems that he may have picked up on his pack mate's feelings from the distance and decided to hurry over. Today he is wearing a sleeveless tank top and a pair of black cargo jeans. He looks to be covered in sweat and red scratches along his body with leaves stuck in his hair.
Trace looks towards Felix, and the near murderous intensity that the ahroun's gaze has had lessens, somewhat, and he swallows. He lets out a breath, and breathes slowly, and then nods to Felix. "Yeah, we're good," he replies, barely audible. His glance flicks towards both the retreating Brings-the-Pack and the now-glabro Gatekeeper, then back to Felix, and slowly, the ahroun's hands unclench. "We're good. And yeah, that's an idea." The Walker reaches into one of the interior pockets of his jacket to fumble out a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter, flipping the pack open to draw one out.
Brings-the-Pack exits quietly through the trees, disappearing like a shadow.
Felix caps his drink and sticks it in his jacket pocket, where it sticks out awkwardly, but it frees his hands to go to the other one and extract the tin he keeps his own smokes in. "C'mon, let's take a walk," he suggests, indicating off into the bawn with a tilt of his head. Justin gets a chin lift of greeting, though only a faint smile, not the usual grin.
Jamethon takes a long, slow, steadying breath that has some definite… vibration to the end of it. With this, he melts back to the human body. The Fenrir stretches out as if just waking from a long night's sleep, complete with yawn. Now that there appears to be no need for violent intervention, he seems bored. The Fulgent Pendant has gone completely blue now, as the Mage has departed.
Rubbing at his nose for a moment, Justin saunters towards the trio once the mage cat leaves, then says, "Hey guys." He gives a look to Trace before flicking back to Felix. He lifts a hand to wave towards James as well.
Trace lights his cigarette and takes a long drag from it, visibly calming just a touch more. He's still on edge, but there's no imminent threat. With a nod of acknowledgment towards Jamethon, Trace turns back to the Galliard. "Yeah, that's probably good." Justin gets a brief nod of greeting, a halfway voiced, "Hola," but Trace is reserved.
"Mornin', J," Felix replies, and there's something closer to his usual grin to go along with it. "We're gonna take a stroll." The tone suggests that whether this is information or invitation is up to the listener. He gets out a cigarette of his own, and adds to Jamethon, "'scuse us a few. Also, that pendant's still awesome," before he starts to the treeline. Not, one might possibly note, in the same direction Brings-the-Pack left.
"Yeah, I'll tag along if it's cool." Justin says to the pair as he gives a quick grin to Trace. "Hola amigo. ¿Que pasa?" He asks as he cracks his knuckles with a flex of his fingers to loosen up the joints. "I fell out of a tree." He says quite proudly.
Jamethon nods shallowly to Justin and as the others head off the Fenrir simply cracks his knuckles. The compliment about the fetish does earn an acknowledging grunt, however.
Trace starts after Felix, purposeful strides, and murmurs quietly, "Who the fuck does he think he is, 'potential', no me jodas hijo de mil putas." It's not entirely directed at either Felix or Justin, now it's just grumbling. "I nearly lost my shit, and it would have been significantly bad," he says, in answer to the 'what's up'.
Felix lights up his cigarette and puts the tin away again as he walks, taking a fair sized first drag off of it and briefly watching the smoke as he exhales. "It wouldn't've been ideal," he agrees, with a brief half-smile. "You know you're supposed to either climb or jump down, right, J? It ain't necessary to plummet."
"I wasn't planning on it." Justin says to Felix in regards to falling out of the tree. "And, well, world is full of possibilities, right? If mage cat can see a potential future and give us the head's up ahead of time, maybe we can do something to tilt it in our favor and manipulate destiny, right? I'd rather a head's up than a surprise party of my guts on the ground. This gives us an edge, right? We can brainstorm and step up now before shit hits the fan, hopefully."
It's not near-frenzy this time, but the residual anger is still there, and fueled by both the speed and force of Rage, Trace turns around and punches Justin in the jaw, and the glare turns onto the other ahroun just a hint shy of challenging. "Fuck. Off."
There's a glance to Justin and just the hint of a headshake from the Galliard when his packmate starts talking about the recent source of near-frenzy, but it's too late, and there's a sympathetic wince at the impact. "Whoa, hey," he says toward both of them, putting his most persuasive efforts behind it, "All friends here, let's just walk an', I dunno, appreciate nature for a few. Think about what we're gonna snag from Edgewood, maybe."
As soon as the punch lands, Justin blurs into motion on instinct, throwing a haymaker right back into the face of the other ahroun, this time channeling his gift of knocking things down through the impact. He pours his own rage through the attack, his movement is faster than his already agile reflexes, as quick as a cobra strike.
Trace goes sprawling and stumbling backwards, landing flat on his back, and doesn't quite get to his feet yet. There's a lowly-voiced growl that follows, that doesn't quite die off, but the older ahroun maintains control for the time being, and glares over at Justin. "Fuck off. Seriously."
Jamethon calls out from the center towards the somewhat distant brawl, "Either make a challenge or take it out of the Caern if you want to have your honourless little squabble."
Felix glances from one Ahroun to the other, then back to the caern as the Get calls after them. He makes a face at the adjective in there. "C'mon, y'all, this ain't what we need," he says, and at least still has all his persuasive gifts and talents on his side in the argument, such as it is, "Plus, Jamethon looked pretty disappointed he didn't get to aim at takin' no-one down, just now. Ain't no call to cheer him up."
Justin spits out a mouth of blood to the side on the ground, then turns and starts off back through the forest with a roll of his shoulders.
Trace brings one hand up to rub at his face, and more specifically his nose, which is showing the effects of being hit, most likely broken judging by the wince that follows. The Walker makes it to standing, looking over and off at the trees before shifting to lupus with a series of low grumbles. He lifts his head to look up at Felix, and there's a hint of apology in the posture. Go after him, he urges. Six-Shooter will be fine, given time.
Felix glances after Justin, and there's a brief pause, during which there's just the hint of an upward twitch at one corner of his lips, before he looks back to the Walker again. "Where're you plannin' to hang for a bit? We still got shit to go snag, after all."
Six-Shooter turns his head in a direction different than the one that Justin is going off in, with a bit of a full-body shaking off that follows. He will be around, that way. Or he will find the galliard later.
By now, the other Gnawer has headed off into the woods and out of sight, even his footsteps can't be heard crunching over leaves and twigs.
Felix squints briefly in the indicated direction, then nods. "A'right," he starts to say, and then pauses; this time the upward twitch is more than a hint, and remains as he informs the Walker, "He wants me to tell you y'all're still friends, he ain't trippin'." Something about the delivery suggests this is essentially a quote.
Six-Shooter lolls his tongue a little bit, and twists an ear forward. Still friends, he affirms. Just… it's not even anger so much anymore as it is irritation that shows in the Walker's manner. He said wrong words, wrong time, wrong manner. It is real, not potential. Very, very real. The low growl, this time, is momentary and fleeting.
"Shit yeah, it's real," Felix agrees, with an emphatic nod, and no remaining smile, "Most of us here ain't had to face it quite as…" He pauses, briefly considering his words, "direct, as close up as you, yet, but we know it's real. An' we know, if we don't do nothin', they WILL come. I guess now we know if we don't do nothin', it's Edgewood an' here— although I reckon we sorta assumed here anyhow— they'll be comin'. Dependin' what we do with knowin' that, maybe we can take it to them instead, change those futures some… but definitely, no matter what, it's real as fuck. Ain't no maybe there."
The Walker ahroun seems at least calmer than he was a bit earlier, if still also a little bit shaken, and his ears twist in agreement. We will do, Six-Shooter states, with no doubt and no room for give in that statement. Nothing is not an option.
Felix nods. "Ain't even close," he says, and his brow furrows slightly as he takes another drag on his cigarette. "…what I'm wonderin' is whether however he sensed it takes into account the shit we been talkin' about doin', tryin' to work out how to do, but ain't actually managed to do yet. 'cause if it does, maybe it ain't the right path. But if it don't… still might be the thing to do." He glances the direction his packmate went, then back to the Walker. "A'right," he says, "I'm gonna go look what he's up to. Find you again in a bit to go save our shit an' cars an' food an' all, yeah? An' the beer. …wouldn't much mind savin' that right now." He withdraws the bottle from his pocket again instead, and gives Six-Shooter a slight wave with the cigarette in his other hand.
Six-Shooter bobs his head slightly and lopes off into the forest of the bawn, before speeding up to an outright run, apparently to go blow off some steam.
The moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (18% full).
Felix nods again, this time to Thane, "Yeah, basically, although I reckon can't get out of is more important if we had to pick, given, like you say, she already got some forces out here an'," he looks to Briari, "yeah, from what I've been told, she can see through their eyes. Sees what they see, knows what they know. We," from the glance, he apparently means the cougar, "were talkin' the other day about tryin' to cut their connection if we can't use it against 'em directly. Rock if it made 'em just collapse like puppets with their strings cut, but even if it just made 'em panic. I got the impression theirs is a lot more intense than a pack link is, like theirs is always passin' shit back an' forth, but that ain't first-hand or nothin', just… like I say, the impression I get from what folks've been sayin'." The four are all by the firepit this morning, and Felix leans forward a bit on the log he's sitting on, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, then takes another sip from his soda bottle. "Been thinkin' about a lotta shit, but nothin' I actually know how to DO, or even how someone else would." Another glance to the cougar, "Did you get to see the bodies yet?"
Around the edge of the the caern, a wolf can be seen making his way in, though for the moment Six-Shooter does not rush to immediately join the others.
"I have not yet been given an opportunity to examine the wraith's bodies. I would very much like to do so, though. Now that more pressing matters have been attended to," the cougar replies to Felix. "Based upon what I have observed, my suspicion— and this is merely my suspicion— is that the Queen periodically touches the minds of the wraiths, gathering information and issuing commands if need be. I do not think severing the link— if that is possible— will result in the wraiths no longer functioning. It should, however, result in them not coordinating very well while apart or in the heat of battle. Like a pack that lost its ability to communicate with one another through its totem spirit. The pack does not fall down, but the pack's effectiveness at functioning as a whole is weakened."
"Darn, I was kinda hoping they would be puppets," Briari says as she gives a stretch of her body, then waves to Six-Shooter as she spies him. Her nose wrinkles up a bit as she thinks for a few more minutes, then lets out a long sigh. "I will go about looking at some abandoned properties and see if I can make a cash deal on one in case we need a back up safe house, or a dummy house to blow up with the bad guys in it."
"And on that note, I'm going to see if there's any likely abandoned properties we can use and save the money." Thane says as he gets to his feet. "The primary goal is make sure people know to avoid Edgewood and be on high alert out here. We need to move fast. Briari, I will catch up with you later. I'll be back here in a few hours." The Lord resumes his Hispo form and heads back to the bawn, giving a passing whuff of greeting towards Six-Shooter as he goes.
Felix sighs, just a puff of breath that'd probably rustle his bangs if he had any. "Yeah, woulda been nice," he agrees, "…but yeah, even at that level you'd think it'd hurt their coordination. I ain't had a packlink to work with long, but it definitely helps with that. …I wonder if most of 'em can even talk? I mean," a fleeting sidelong glance toward Thane, "as far as I know, we ain't heard a peep outta most of 'em, the usual ones." He glances over at the hint of movement, recognizes the wolf, and greets it with a grin and a quick lift of the chin. "Later," he says to Thane as the Alpha takes his leave, and is about to take another sip of his drink when he pauses. "Wait, wait. Avoid Edgewood?" With Thane leaving, it's Briari and Brings-the-Pack he looks to with that.
Six-Shooter whuffs quietly in greeting and twists his head to watch the Shadow Lord depart, before heading down to the firepit. The Walker pads down towards the others, and twists his head sideways, almost an echo of Felix's question. Good morning, he adds.
"Yes. Avoid Edgewood," the cougar confirms with his usual electronically masked voice. "I sensed a strong undercurrent of change and chaos that may soon occur there and here, in the caern. They are the two most likely to be attacked places the garou currently use and inhabit. Though the future is always in motion, it seems probable something will happen in those two areas. It would be inadvisable for kin, cubs, or perhaps even young cliaths to stay at Edgewood."
"Well… fuck," Felix says, and glances skyward. "What shit I had left's at Edgewood. Not to mention food. Roofs. Hot runnin' water." Another of those sighs, this one somewhat heavier, and he takes a bigger, faintly aggressive swallow of his drink. "Fuck, the Caddy's parked there, too… well, fuck it, reckon I'm at least goin' back to get some shit. Mine, an' maybe some food an' the burners an' the infrared shit Lin brought…" The cougar and the homids are seated by the fire, and the wolf is just joining them. The Galliard looks to him, asking, "Wanna come with when I do?"
Six-Shooter nods, in a very human fashion. We should focus on the caern, but. There is a long pause, and Six-Shooter's tail thumps on the ground once, and then he shifts back to homid. "If we have a good idea of where things are coming, then we know where to focus our forces and such. The area of Edgewood should be part of patrols by more experienced Garou, if nothing else." He pauses. "Unless," he asks the cougar-mage, "you think that if the house is left empty they will simply leave it alone." And to Felix, he says, "Damn straight I will. I've got some stuff I left there too, even though I was in town last night."
Jamethon comes down into the Caern, using his signature Chimeric spear as a walking stick for no required purpose, other than he seems to enjoy it. Seeing the gathered around the pit, he heads on over their way. His expression is neutral, and his pace can be described as such, as well.
"They might leave Edgewood alone if it is abandoned. There's talk of formulating a trap of sorts, and a few other ideas being passed around. Share any ideas you come up with with Thane and Briari. But if I were you," the cougar advises the other garou around the fire, voice electronically masked to sound like Kylo Ren in his helmet, "I would not sleep there nor store valuables there nor let kin nor cubs reside there."
"I can go with you also. At least I can turn invisible and I can see them through my cyber senses where you guys can't. That way if there is trouble, I can let you know can bounce out." Briari says with a nod of her head.
Felix cracks a smile at the cougar, "If you were me we wouldn't know to avoid it." He nods to Briari, and sets his bottle down carefully to pull a small binocular sort of thing out of his pants pocket instead. "Lin left a bowl of these, 'sposed to work for seein' 'em too. But I'm pretty sure your way works slicker." He glances around with the binoculars as long as he has them out anyway; might as well. There's a pause in that when the gaze falls on Jamethon, and he lowers them to give the massive man a, "Mornin'. …anyway, I reckon if no one's at Edgewood it matters less if they do shit to it anyhow. Not that I wanna see it fucked up, but." Shrug. "Definitely caern priority."
Trace snorts, and not quite with amusement, but he simply nods and is silent for a bit. "I still got the binoculars you gave me, too," he tells Briari, "but yeah. We'll work it out." The newcomer gets a glance, and then more of a studying gaze, and then a polite inclination of his head as he offers his introduction. "I'm Trace Garza, called Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Glass Walkers." More generally, he adds, "I talked to Mouse yesterday and got things settled in terms of Chiminage. I need to teach three, any combination of rites and gifts." Whatever is off about the ahroun's grammar is quite easily explained by the hint of a Latin American Spanish accent when he talks.
Jamethon arrives near the group, his approach slow enough to listen to the conversation a bit before he arrives. He lifts the lightly glowing fetish from around his neck and presents it, "Perhaps the Fulgent Pendant can be of help. It can detect the presence and type of magic. I felt that with our recent troubles… this was a defense we needed." He gives an inscrutable and quick glance towards Brings for a moment before giving a more general look towards the group once more.
"Not a matter of being slick, just very efficient. I need to get stuff out of the house as well. We definitely need to scour the place and remove any contact information that may be lingering about," Briari says as she hops up to her feet again and dusts off her knees. "Morning James-rhya," She says to the large Fenrir. "Mage cat here says he shifts some major chaos coming to the Caern and to the house on Edgewood which is probably going to be an attack."
Brings-the-Pack rises from his haunches to regard the massive Get who has recently arrived. "If you would permit it at some future time, I would very much like to examine your pendant and discuss how it works," the feline says in English. "And as Briari has partially explained, I am Brings-the-Pack. A warper allied with the sept. I do not believe we have formally met before."
Felix quirks a brow at Briari. "'s what I said," he replies dryly, "…'slicker'." The binoculars are returned to the pocket, and he picks up the bottle again. "Is that the Fetish you were workin' on?" he asks Jamethon, sounding fairly impressed with the idea, and leans in a bit to look when it's presented, although given the height difference even if he weren't sitting, the inch or so a lean gives isn't going to particularly matter. "What counts as magic to it?"
"Or leave what information we want them to find," Trace points out, drumming lightly on his knee with the fingers of one hand. "If we are going to go through with the whole 'use it as a trap' plan, at least." He lifts his shoulders and offers Felix a broad grin. "Everyone also needs to coordinate parking their cars a significant distance from the Bawn, and in a variety of locations so no one car stands out. It'll suck somewhat, but taking the long way when possible going out to the Bawn is advisable, given everything that is going on."
Jamethon eyes the Gnawer Galliard with curiousity and holds out the pendant for closer inspection. "Magic. Active magic. Activated Fetishes, still working ritual effects, gifts, Warper spells, the disciplines of vampires, spirit powers, even those of what the spirit called hedge wizards and changelings. Perhaps more. But whatever it finds, must still be active. This it not a tool to see what was done in the past, but what is happening now." He looks more pointedly towards Brings-The-Pack and squints his eyes, "I am Jamethon Reflections-Howl, Adren Godi of the Fenrir and Gatekeeper of the Triquetral Accord. Your request, ally, is reasonable and with supervision I am willing to allow your examination in exchange for similar experimental information returning to us. We… can discuss details at your leisure."
Brings-the-Pack seems to concur with the Get. "Very well. At some future point. You will likely soon be hearing about how I have sensed a disruption inthe caern's future. I do not know when nor by what means, but there it is no real reach to realize that it is probably a future attack waged by the Queen and her minions. A similar fate appears to be in the cards for Edgewood. However, Harbor Park's glade does not appear to be a target. Thane has been alerted, and I suspect preparations for enhancing defenses may soon occur."
Felix grins back at Trace, and hops to his feet to go take a better look at the new Fetish, though he doesn't quite touch it. "Nice," he declares, no less impressed, "So basically everythin' we know about an' prolly some shit we don't. Kick ass." He heads back to where he was sitting, and stretches, careful not to spill. "The Caddy stands out no matter where she's parked," he says to the Walker as he sits again, not sounding at all displeased by this fact, "but yeah, I reckon you're right. Hafta think about where."
Trace doesn't move from where he's seated, but his attention is clearly on the Fetish for a long moment, curiosity evident in his gaze before he nods to Felix. "Yeah. Either that, or you need something that doesn't stick out as much for a bit, put your car somewhere safe in the mean time." He purses his lips. "There's a truck stop motel thing, out on the edge of town? Cars won't stick out as much parked there at least for a few days at a time, because it's somewhere that is more or less expected to have traffic. Nor can they keep track of if the people parked there are actually present, I'd think."
Jamethon looks over at the Warper and considers a moment, "Also, my bike is fast and though she don't look like much, she's built just as much for off-roading as the open road. Think you could make 'er quiet for a while? She'd be just about the fastest way to get between city and Bawn for someone who ain't got the legs for running and if she ain't gonna be loud it'd be a pretty neat trick to get in quick from an unexpected angle." He then takes places the Pendant back around his neck and touches the jade set into it with his middle-finger and focuses on activating it. The center stone suddenly swirls with color and then and becomes aglow with violetish-blue light. The Gatekeeper concludes, "The strong blue is the from the Spirit magics here in the Caern, but that violet tint comes from our Ally here," he indicates Brings though perhaps does not need to.
Brings-the-Pack cocks his head inquisitively as the fetish is demonstrate to those present. He seems to be paying it quite a bit of attention.
"Yeah, ain't a bad plan, just a long way," Felix says to Trace, "…actually, wonder how much it'd cost to actually have a room there? Reckon it'd have a shower. Although I s'pose whatever it was'd be a lot for a shower." A slight shrug, and he focuses on the Fetish being used instead, studying it. He looks to the mage-cat and opens his mouth, then shuts it with a small snort of laughter. "Caught myself about to ask whatcha had active," he tells the warper, "…then I remembered, right, cougar's a part time gig. Weird how easy it is to get used to chattin' with a robot-voiced cat." Says a guy who regularly turns into a wolf.
Trace lifts his shoulder. "It's not where I stayed the first night I was in town, but it might be worthwhile," he muses in response to Felix. "Showers are kinda muy importante, in my book." That, at least, is obvious enough what is being said. "And it's a long way, sure, but it's less of a long way on four legs, and there's plenty of woods and cover for the most part."
"Much, I am sure, as how easily I sometimes forget I am conversing with bloodthirsty werewolves," Brings-the-Pack responds to Felix. "And find myself wondering how hot showers can be such an obstacle when many of your kind live their lives in the woods. But," he adds, "Surely there must be a hot spring around here somewhere that would do in a pinch."
"I got a whole chapter on 'em," Felix replies to Trace, grinning, and to Brings, "…an' I dunno, I think I'm more beerthirsty, myself. Blood ain't real quenchin'. Anyhow, ain't like I can't live without showers, I just like 'em. There's reasons I ain't one of my kind that lives in the woods. …although bein' fair, didn't have runnin' water in the places in the city I was livin' before I got here, let alone hot, so." He shrugs. "Spring'd do in a pinch, other ways to deal with it too, but given the choice…"
Jamethon lowers the fetish back to rest on his chest though the light remains glowing gently. The Fenrir shakes his head at his fellow Garou and remakes to Brings', "It isn't an obstacle. It's a crutch." Diplomatic, ain't he? The Gatekeeper continues, "This trouble that is coming, Brings-The-Pack… in your visions, are there failed preparations or specific deaths that you witnessed?"
Trace offers Brings-the-Pack a very feral, toothy smile in response to the 'bloodthirsty' comment. "Some of us appreciate modern amenities given the chance," he notes. "After all, blood and such has a tendency to be… messy." Though the tone of voice seems to imply that the ahroun nonetheless doesn't mind.
"Vision?" Brings-the-Pack shakes his head negatively yet responds to Jamethon by claiming, "Unfortunately, I have no greater details that there is probably going to be something significant that happens at the caern and at Edgewood unless something happens to change that fate. The future is malleable, not fixed, so I imagine greater diligence, preparation, and actions taken to distract or mislead a potential foe might have positive outcomes for those two areas. But unaddressed, something will almost certainly happen."
Felix gives the heavens a brief, beseeching glance. "Ain't an obstacle OR a crutch. It's a luxury. But it's a fuckin' nice little one an' ain't nothin' wrong with that." He has a swallow of his drink, leaning back a bit and glancing around the caern consideringly.
Jamethon considers the words of the Warper, "There is much to learn about each other's magics. How they come to us seems to differ greatly." The Fenrir gives Felix a neutral glance, then looks back to Brings' without comment. He adds with gruff and concerned tones, "Your aid is greatly appreciated. Blood will be spilled, of that I am sure. Some of it ours and there is never much to be done about that." He then adds with less comfort towards Felix, "Luxury is the definition of a crutch."
"There is nothing 'potential' about the enemy that we are facing, nothing at all," Trace says, letting the words hang in the air after he says them, his jaw and hand both clenching until his fingers nearly dig into his knee, and in that moment he's on his feet— and thankfully turning away from the others present rather than towards anyone. His voice is harder and the words more forceful and clipped than usual, and the glare that comes with the words, though undirected, is full of pain, anger, hate, and a desire to do violence to something sooner than later, but willpower and ironclad control keeps any of that from coming into fruition as the ahroun stands nearly stone-still.
Brings-the-Pack seems to recognize when a garou is nearing the edge of frenzy. He goes motionless save for watching Trace's motion, perhaps an attempt by the large predator to not appear to be a threat. The results may be mixed.
"No it ain't. A crutch is somethin' you need to get along. A luxury's just a thing that makes life nicer, like chocolate or leather jackets," Felix says, but anything else along those lines is lost to Trace's remarks, and his following stance. He goes quiet, letting the Ahroun focus on self-control without distraction from his corner. At least for the moment.
Jamethon doesn't seem as concerned with the near-Frenzying Fostern, the Adren a little annoyed himself, at the moment. He looks over to Brings' and offers in a neutral bland tone of voice, "Your business here is concluded for the day, yes?" The Godi gestures around the immediate area of the firepit with a sweeping hand as he speaks.
Trace manages to push back the beast and the rage, but apparently not enough, because a low growl comes, and before he has turned around to sit back down again, the ahroun goes still once more, fingernails digging into his palm.
Brings-the-Pack responds by creeping backwards slowly and then walking— not running— away from Trace and towards the treeline.
Jamethon stands, and has managed to silently and quickly melt up into the Glabro body, facing Trace. His muscle fibers are like steel cables, able to be seen through dedicated clothing. The Fenrir has an expression, complete with parted lips revealing clenching teeth, that somehow mixes both apprehension and anticipation.
Felix rises, still holding his drink, and moves toward Trace— not quite his usual saunter, but a surprisingly casual walk nonethless— to get in front of him. "Trace," he says quietly, "Hey. We're good, yeah? This ain't LA." He watches the Ahroun closely while he talks, and there's a tiny pause before he adds, "You wanna get a smoke?"
Through the trees comes a curious Justin as it seems that he may have picked up on his pack mate's feelings from the distance and decided to hurry over. Today he is wearing a sleeveless tank top and a pair of black cargo jeans. He looks to be covered in sweat and red scratches along his body with leaves stuck in his hair.
Trace looks towards Felix, and the near murderous intensity that the ahroun's gaze has had lessens, somewhat, and he swallows. He lets out a breath, and breathes slowly, and then nods to Felix. "Yeah, we're good," he replies, barely audible. His glance flicks towards both the retreating Brings-the-Pack and the now-glabro Gatekeeper, then back to Felix, and slowly, the ahroun's hands unclench. "We're good. And yeah, that's an idea." The Walker reaches into one of the interior pockets of his jacket to fumble out a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter, flipping the pack open to draw one out.
Brings-the-Pack exits quietly through the trees, disappearing like a shadow.
Felix caps his drink and sticks it in his jacket pocket, where it sticks out awkwardly, but it frees his hands to go to the other one and extract the tin he keeps his own smokes in. "C'mon, let's take a walk," he suggests, indicating off into the bawn with a tilt of his head. Justin gets a chin lift of greeting, though only a faint smile, not the usual grin.
Jamethon takes a long, slow, steadying breath that has some definite… vibration to the end of it. With this, he melts back to the human body. The Fenrir stretches out as if just waking from a long night's sleep, complete with yawn. Now that there appears to be no need for violent intervention, he seems bored. The Fulgent Pendant has gone completely blue now, as the Mage has departed.
Rubbing at his nose for a moment, Justin saunters towards the trio once the mage cat leaves, then says, "Hey guys." He gives a look to Trace before flicking back to Felix. He lifts a hand to wave towards James as well.
Trace lights his cigarette and takes a long drag from it, visibly calming just a touch more. He's still on edge, but there's no imminent threat. With a nod of acknowledgment towards Jamethon, Trace turns back to the Galliard. "Yeah, that's probably good." Justin gets a brief nod of greeting, a halfway voiced, "Hola," but Trace is reserved.
"Mornin', J," Felix replies, and there's something closer to his usual grin to go along with it. "We're gonna take a stroll." The tone suggests that whether this is information or invitation is up to the listener. He gets out a cigarette of his own, and adds to Jamethon, "'scuse us a few. Also, that pendant's still awesome," before he starts to the treeline. Not, one might possibly note, in the same direction Brings-the-Pack left.
"Yeah, I'll tag along if it's cool." Justin says to the pair as he gives a quick grin to Trace. "Hola amigo. ¿Que pasa?" He asks as he cracks his knuckles with a flex of his fingers to loosen up the joints. "I fell out of a tree." He says quite proudly.
Jamethon nods shallowly to Justin and as the others head off the Fenrir simply cracks his knuckles. The compliment about the fetish does earn an acknowledging grunt, however.
Trace starts after Felix, purposeful strides, and murmurs quietly, "Who the fuck does he think he is, 'potential', no me jodas hijo de mil putas." It's not entirely directed at either Felix or Justin, now it's just grumbling. "I nearly lost my shit, and it would have been significantly bad," he says, in answer to the 'what's up'.
Felix lights up his cigarette and puts the tin away again as he walks, taking a fair sized first drag off of it and briefly watching the smoke as he exhales. "It wouldn't've been ideal," he agrees, with a brief half-smile. "You know you're supposed to either climb or jump down, right, J? It ain't necessary to plummet."
"I wasn't planning on it." Justin says to Felix in regards to falling out of the tree. "And, well, world is full of possibilities, right? If mage cat can see a potential future and give us the head's up ahead of time, maybe we can do something to tilt it in our favor and manipulate destiny, right? I'd rather a head's up than a surprise party of my guts on the ground. This gives us an edge, right? We can brainstorm and step up now before shit hits the fan, hopefully."
It's not near-frenzy this time, but the residual anger is still there, and fueled by both the speed and force of Rage, Trace turns around and punches Justin in the jaw, and the glare turns onto the other ahroun just a hint shy of challenging. "Fuck. Off."
There's a glance to Justin and just the hint of a headshake from the Galliard when his packmate starts talking about the recent source of near-frenzy, but it's too late, and there's a sympathetic wince at the impact. "Whoa, hey," he says toward both of them, putting his most persuasive efforts behind it, "All friends here, let's just walk an', I dunno, appreciate nature for a few. Think about what we're gonna snag from Edgewood, maybe."
As soon as the punch lands, Justin blurs into motion on instinct, throwing a haymaker right back into the face of the other ahroun, this time channeling his gift of knocking things down through the impact. He pours his own rage through the attack, his movement is faster than his already agile reflexes, as quick as a cobra strike.
Trace goes sprawling and stumbling backwards, landing flat on his back, and doesn't quite get to his feet yet. There's a lowly-voiced growl that follows, that doesn't quite die off, but the older ahroun maintains control for the time being, and glares over at Justin. "Fuck off. Seriously."
Jamethon calls out from the center towards the somewhat distant brawl, "Either make a challenge or take it out of the Caern if you want to have your honourless little squabble."
Felix glances from one Ahroun to the other, then back to the caern as the Get calls after them. He makes a face at the adjective in there. "C'mon, y'all, this ain't what we need," he says, and at least still has all his persuasive gifts and talents on his side in the argument, such as it is, "Plus, Jamethon looked pretty disappointed he didn't get to aim at takin' no-one down, just now. Ain't no call to cheer him up."
Justin spits out a mouth of blood to the side on the ground, then turns and starts off back through the forest with a roll of his shoulders.
Trace brings one hand up to rub at his face, and more specifically his nose, which is showing the effects of being hit, most likely broken judging by the wince that follows. The Walker makes it to standing, looking over and off at the trees before shifting to lupus with a series of low grumbles. He lifts his head to look up at Felix, and there's a hint of apology in the posture. Go after him, he urges. Six-Shooter will be fine, given time.
Felix glances after Justin, and there's a brief pause, during which there's just the hint of an upward twitch at one corner of his lips, before he looks back to the Walker again. "Where're you plannin' to hang for a bit? We still got shit to go snag, after all."
Six-Shooter turns his head in a direction different than the one that Justin is going off in, with a bit of a full-body shaking off that follows. He will be around, that way. Or he will find the galliard later.
By now, the other Gnawer has headed off into the woods and out of sight, even his footsteps can't be heard crunching over leaves and twigs.
Felix squints briefly in the indicated direction, then nods. "A'right," he starts to say, and then pauses; this time the upward twitch is more than a hint, and remains as he informs the Walker, "He wants me to tell you y'all're still friends, he ain't trippin'." Something about the delivery suggests this is essentially a quote.
Six-Shooter lolls his tongue a little bit, and twists an ear forward. Still friends, he affirms. Just… it's not even anger so much anymore as it is irritation that shows in the Walker's manner. He said wrong words, wrong time, wrong manner. It is real, not potential. Very, very real. The low growl, this time, is momentary and fleeting.
"Shit yeah, it's real," Felix agrees, with an emphatic nod, and no remaining smile, "Most of us here ain't had to face it quite as…" He pauses, briefly considering his words, "direct, as close up as you, yet, but we know it's real. An' we know, if we don't do nothin', they WILL come. I guess now we know if we don't do nothin', it's Edgewood an' here— although I reckon we sorta assumed here anyhow— they'll be comin'. Dependin' what we do with knowin' that, maybe we can take it to them instead, change those futures some… but definitely, no matter what, it's real as fuck. Ain't no maybe there."
The Walker ahroun seems at least calmer than he was a bit earlier, if still also a little bit shaken, and his ears twist in agreement. We will do, Six-Shooter states, with no doubt and no room for give in that statement. Nothing is not an option.
Felix nods. "Ain't even close," he says, and his brow furrows slightly as he takes another drag on his cigarette. "…what I'm wonderin' is whether however he sensed it takes into account the shit we been talkin' about doin', tryin' to work out how to do, but ain't actually managed to do yet. 'cause if it does, maybe it ain't the right path. But if it don't… still might be the thing to do." He glances the direction his packmate went, then back to the Walker. "A'right," he says, "I'm gonna go look what he's up to. Find you again in a bit to go save our shit an' cars an' food an' all, yeah? An' the beer. …wouldn't much mind savin' that right now." He withdraws the bottle from his pocket again instead, and gives Six-Shooter a slight wave with the cigarette in his other hand.
Six-Shooter bobs his head slightly and lopes off into the forest of the bawn, before speeding up to an outright run, apparently to go blow off some steam.