Alright; have a beer

[Tristan Hardt]

Tristan sits on the porch of his quiet, out-in-the-woods house. A two story gig that had probably been built in the 40s or earlier. Evidence of rushed paint jobs can be seen, here and there, as the peeling paint reveals layers beneath caked in dirt. There's even paint on the edges of some of the windows. Most of the paint is a off-white, save for the dark blue door. It's the newest looking piece on the whole property (because Tristan had been forced to replace it). He doesn't own it, and the landlord hadn't been keen on some damage that had been done to the front door. So he'd bought a new one to shut the guy up.

The sun is still in the sky, but just barely. Not too early for some beers and a cigar - neither one was any good. But he didn't care. In fact, he sort of preferred the cheap stuff. No pretense behind it. The six pack of light beer sits by his feet as he leans forward on the porch swing to light his cigar. He'd called that Emily girl over to... to what? Smooth things out, if he had to label it. He'd given her a hard time, but she's not a disrespectful little shit like Viola. Even if she dresses like they'd be good pals.

[Emily Makerith]

Emily chews a nail as she drives her VW bug along the road. She can hear something rattling - she's going to need to check the engine again. She can smell the hot plastic scent that she knows will become smoke if she doesn't do some more maintenance on the 'temporary' car she's kept running for years. Just until I can get the Mustang together, which at this rate might be when I'm forty... she sighs.

Pulling up to the house she grabs her bag and hitches it on one shoulder. The Ithaeur can see the newish-looking porch attached to an older building, with Tristan waiting on the porch. Anyone else, Emily might have said might say relaxed, but the Beta definately looked like he was waiting. She'd only met him once, but he just looked so serious. It was off-putting. Still. Better to try and heal that rift now than let it fester.

The Crescent walks slowly up to the porch, glancing across the Gauntlet around the plot of land.

  1 success on a force of habit

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2018-07-04 03:37:26		Emily rolls 5 to 2 world eyes: Wits 2 + Occult 2 + Wisdom 1 (10 Again)		8, 2, 1, 6, 2		1 success

"Hey," Emily greets the Beta, mismatched eyes sparkling. "Nice place. I'd prefer a something a little more central myself, but it's certainly big enough...." She trails off and shrugs. "So, uh, is this like a social call, or business?" the Ithaeur asks tentatively, and leans semi-casually against one of the beams. Her purply spirit-seeing eye fades back to blue-grey.

Glancing into the Spirit is kind of an instinct for Emily. You don't have to describe if you don't need, and I'll assume something similar-ish to the surrounds given the length of time the house has been.

[Tristan Hardt]

What can be seen through the haze of the Gauntlet is much like the physical reflection. Nothing unexpected in a secluded suburb surrounded by woods.

The middle-aged cop watches the VW pull up as he primes the cigar. The smokey haze he puffs into the air look a little like viewing it through the gauntlet. Which is kind of amusing, but he won't spoil his reputation by grinning over it.

When Emily approaches, Tristan shifts the cigar to the far side of his teeth and grunts. "Call it social, if you want. Nothing to hunt or investigate or anything." He bends down further to tug a beer off the sixpack's plastic rings and holds it out for her. "Beer?"

He doesn't motion for her to join him on the porch swing, though there's certainly room based on where he's sitting. Might be a test. Might not be. As he waits for her to accept the beer and figure out getting comfortable, he starts in earnest. "We didn't get off on the right foot, back when we met. I half expected you to be at my throat just as quick, given how empty the city seems to be... but that was it: you were a stranger and strangers, well... they bring danger." If it was meant as a joke, he doesn't show it. He just makes himself comfortable by throwing a free arm over the armrest on the swing and leans back.

[Emily Makerith]

Emily drops her bag against the fence with a loud metallic clank, and gratefully takes the beer and deftly opens it with one hand. Thanks." The Ithaeur pulls herself onto the fence of the porch, dangling one leg over the side.

She lets out a long breath. "Didn't know whether to jump you, hug you or run. You could have been Pure for all I actually knew... Then again, could have been the same for me." Emily takes a pull on the can. "I chatted with Hector. Well. Ish. He was a wolf. Kinda got the overall idea of what he wants to do in the short term - secure the territory, that kind of thing. Hopefully I can help properly."

[Tristan Hardt]

Tristan takes her response in stride. It sounds like a vent. And, yeah, he'd allow the girl to do that. He takes another long, slow puff of the cigar through his teeth, billowing smoke like a chimney. "Yeah? What's your short term, then? Always been more of a long-termer, myself."

He reaches down and breaks off another beer. This time, for himself. A little shuffling of the hands and he's got the cigar in one hand and an open beer in the other. "Mostly I think about my family in the Herd. What's left of it, anyway. Been running alone for a long time before I met the others. Guess being a lone wolf for that long screws with your perspective."

[Emily Makerith]

The Ithaeur squirms a little before replying. "Yeah, I get that. I had the same kinda thing, except being here was mostly lessons in picking battles and knowing when to hide and run. It did mean I picked up some fighting experience. Whether I wanted to or not."

Emily pops the beer on the beam she's perched on, pulls a pouch of tobacco and begins rolling a cigarette dexterously. "Um... honestly? It's too soon to tell. I know I'm not alone. I'm in a Pack again. I want to prove myself, that I know what I'm doing, so... get my Rites on point again? I want to help rebuild a territory. Longer term, I dunno. Living here alone didn't install a lot of 'Long Term Planning' ideas. Closest I've got is finish putting my Mustang together."

[Tristan Hardt]

Hidden behind his beer can, Tristan offers a grunt. It could have been a laugh. "I'd come down on you for being shortsighted... but I'd be a hypocrite. It isn't cars that gets me, though. It's retirement. Not just from the force. From everything." He lets that statement sink in before going on. "My uncle is the one who brought me in to the tribe. Twenty-some years ago. Don't get me wrong; it' not that I mind my duties. But I'm not getting any younger. I can't see myself tackling foes in my seventies. Eighties." Damn gift of being spirit, animal and man doesn't offer a spirit's longevity. He knows he won't be around forever.

"If I had to take a guess - and don't get offended now - but you must have done more running than fighting. Can't think of any other reason that you'd be under the radar for so long. Me, I came from Elk Grove. Didn't move around much and didn't come to Sacramento until recently. Had a big promotion and they wanted me on SPD." Another puff, another sip.

[Emily Makerith]

The Ithaeur gives Tristan a quizzical look. "What? Why would I be offended? You're right. I've got Brands of Cunning and Wisdom, not Glory, and I got them for a reason. I didn't like running, but it was the smart thing to do. One wolf doesn't do so well unless it changes how it fights and thinks." She looks out back down the street. "I got a tiny patch, the last few hundred feet of my old pack's territory. Spiders to the south, Wild spirits to the north and east, I knew there was a Magath to the West. I could slip through, work my way around... Got lucky, more than once. But I fought for that bit. Sometimes I had to let something in to catch it unawares, but I never let go. I just.... couldn't let it go, y'know? It's my home. Soon it'll be Carillon Call territory, and I'll sit on our edge and watch."

Emily takes another drink and pulls a lighter out of her pocket, sparking the cigarette into life. She gives Tristan a side-long glance as she takes a long drag. "Twenty-odd years. Huh. So you're what... early forties? I had you at younger but cynical, y'know. Regeneration preserves us longer than y'think, if you last that long. A savvy wolf can keep fighting into their 60s and up if they stay smart enough. Not many of us ever retire. Not really. We keep getting dragged back in, or taken out." Another drag.

[Tristan Hardt]

He shrugs. "Good on you. At least you're honest with yourself."

His face sets into a thoughtful frown. He doesn't really mind thinking of her old squatting ground falling under the pack's jurisdiction. But there's a question a decent person should ask about all of that. Which, technically, includes himself. "Old pack, huh? What the hell happened?" He leans forward now, with his forearms resting on his knees. "The Magath? Spiders? Or they just give up?" Tristan's voice drops on the last bit. An obvious sign of disapproval.

"43." he says, shaking his head. "And I know all that. Just feel like some day it has to end. The threat never will, but spending my whole life fighting..." The Elodoth actually chuckles now. Sardonically. "Don't know why I'm telling a pup like you all that. Bet you think less of me for it, don't you?" ​His eyes aren't as hard as they usually are. Almost vulnerable. He does his best to cover for it with another big puff of the cigar.

[Emily Makerith]

"Eh. It worked. Being alone makes you learn fast." Emily shrugs. Despite clearly trying to be nonchalant, the Ithaeur noticeably winces when Tristan asks what happened to the old pack, then bristles at being a pup again, and takes that in her stride. "And I dunno why you're opening up to me, old timer. I've been a lone wolf. You clearly have too. We bumped into each other. Maybe it's something you got on your mind any I'm the closest of anyone in the Call you relate to. Maybe you're just getting sentimental in your dotage," she grins, teasing.

She shifts on the fence becoming wistful, and takes a long pull on her cigarette. "Yeah, I guess I'm not going to joke my way out of this." The Crescent takes a long swig from the can. "So. The werewolves of Sacramento. The short version is, I don't know what happened. I know that doesn't say much, so, umm... here's some context. My dad was a Rahu Iron Master in a Pack called the Steel Fangs. They were my old pack - my garage is all that's left of their territory. The Pure were fighting all over town. The Steel Fangs chose to draw in their territory and ride it out. We were doing pretty well. Everything died down. I know something was up." Emily goes quiet. "Um. I... went away. I had some friends, we'd planned to go away... Dad encouraged it. So I did. And when I got back... All the People were gone. No Pure. No Forsaken... No Dad. He'd always been protective. And smart. And he'd got me out when something was happening."

There's a long pause. Emily knocks the ash off her cigarette and takes one more pull on it, before continuing, her voice harder. "Look. I know you're asking because you want some answers. Well, I don't have them. I don't want pity, or bubble-wrapping. I've dealt with that. It was over five years ago." She stops, and takes a breath, looking where to flick the cigarette butt. The Ithauer's voice is calmer when she continues. "I managed to survive Sacramento growing into a wilderness, and I've found a pack. I know a little about the city history. I kinda live for now, y'know? There were times I never expected to get this far. And now, to me, things are looking brighter" She breaks into a tired grin. "Sorry you're getting the after-school special ending, but it's true. To me."