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Emily sits on the sofa, flicking through a a stack of drawings, writing, and a couple of leather-bound notebooks. "Asshole. Why couldn't he teach in a straght line? Or have written anything down so I don't have to rely of teenage me's half-listening notes with doodles in the margins?" She mutters to herself. A picture falls out from between the sheets, and she picks it up. What am I, a living cliche? A giant of a man hugging a tiny slip of a teenage girl with black dyed hair and a lot of eyeliner. His other arm is round a short, shrunken-looking man with scraggly grey hair. There's a tall muscular woman and a wiry, skeevy-looking guy in his twenties.
The Steel Fangs.
Emily feels tears welling up in her eyes as she looks at the hugging pair, and the scraggly man. She puts the photograph on the mantlepiece, and goes back to sifting through pages. a wet spot dots one of them as she wipes her eye.
More flicking. More scowling.
"Ah!" she exclaims. "Spirits... malicious.... Gafflings..." The Ithaeur flicks the page over of her teenage scrawl. The only words on the page are KICK THEIR ASS OF BRIBE THEM WITH ESSENCE, scribbled over several lines ina hand clearly her own in a bad mood.
"God DAMMIT!"
* * * * * * * * * * *
"EMILY. For Fucks sake, pay attention."
"Urgh.... But this is boring! We're werewolves! If the spirits get out of whack can't we just beat them down again?"
"Because. YET AGAIN. We need to work in harmony with the spirits as beings of both worlds. We go around trying to grind the spirits under heel we're no better than the Pure."
The Garage looks newer, fresher. the space that was clogged up with a Mustang in the present holds a black-haired teenage Emily and the scraggly man from the photograph holding the bridge of his nose exaperatedly. "This is your job Emily. Your role in the pack. Why won't you take it seriously?"
"Jimmy, my job is mechanic. I actually get paid for that." Emily smiles sassily.
"Duty then! Dammit! BOBBY! Get your ass out here and tell your daughter!" Jimmy snarls.
"Do the damn lesson, Emmy," rumbles a irritated voice from under a Chevvy wagon.
"I just don't get it, okay Dad?! Today is spirits! Yesterday was the Firstborne! The day before that it was the Choirs of Luna. And last week it was spirits again! There's no pattern to these lessons! It doesn't make sense! Urgh!"
"No! It don't to me neither, But I'm not a Crescent. That means you got innate gifts that I can't teach you, and Jimmy can. You wanted to be Uratha, join the pack fully and embrace that role. For a Crescent that means knowin' about the Damn Hisil." The hulking form of Bobby Makerith pulls out form under the truck and stands up. "So I don't have to." There's a tormentling grin on his face at the older Ithaeur.
"Thanks, Bobby. You ass. Some help you are." Jimmy drinks his beer.
Emily throws her arms up. "I got all the lessons boiled down right here!" She jabs a finger at the page. "Kick their ass or bribe them with essense. I tried talking to a Gaffling last night, just like he said! All this bird spirit wanted was to fly and eat! It was an idiot! I gave it a point of essance and it brought you that message! How complicated can it be?!"
The older wolf growls. "Okay, wise-ass. What would you do with an powerful Jaggling? It's got more essance than you could ever need and can back-hand any of the pack across the Gauntlet. You wanna fight it? Bribe it? Or realise that the only think not having it stomp you instantly is the damn rules that govern the Spirits everywhere? Acting and talking the right way, with the right rules, can pass everything over easily."
Emily puts on a brave face. "I mean... What are the odds of seeing one of those? Right?" She looks at her father, who just raises his eyebrows and looks awkward. "Uh.... riiiiiight?" She sounds more worried.
"We-ell...."
Jimmy just laughs a very evil laugh. "You really wanna see what it looks like? You wanna learn by seein'? Best have remembered to dedicate your pants, kiddo...." He drags Emily up and stalks out of the Garage. "C'mon! Ain't got all night."
* * * * * * * * * * *
The memory of that day is still clear. A currently Blue-haired Emily looks up at the picture. "I mean,I finally got the point, right Jimmy? Even if I'm not so great at pulling it off." She smiles sadly. "Wish I could show you me doing this now."
She sighs. Guess I should try and figure out the way to make the stronger Rites again. Maybe 8th time's the charm? She grabs the box of occult materials, - bones, a knife, candles, other oddments - and heads downstairs to the Garage to practice.
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