Dwell in Darkness

The graveyard on the north side of the territory has long been Threads chosen domain since he joined up with the Guardians, protected and patrolled as zealously as any locus in existence. The whole place bears his mark in the million little subtle ways that only a trained observer or Uratha would notice.

Winter in San Francisco has been fairly average, cool but not freezing so why is that the graveyard always feels like it's twenty degrees cooler lately?

Who is leaving the footprints around the fresh dug sites?

Why is that old marble obelisk in the back cracked down the middle to the very ground?

Who owns it and, maybe more importantly, why is there cool air coming out of the ground where the stone has broken?

She's getting an arse-kicking. Pack or not, Nina's getting her head stomped on. He let her in here. She promised him that she'd take care, look after the place, not fuck with things.

He knew pack was a bad idea. He needed a pack, needed to protect this place but she's crossed the line and now he has to do what he does best. And Areli and Rends are going to take exception.

He prepared with a cool anger, a frosty Rage chilled to stop it affecting his performance. He's used to this. This is what he does. He fights because it is wrong, but he doesn't let anger and Rage rule him. Still, this is what he swore to do. Look after the dead. Maintain the balance. Nina will be lucky to escape with a broken jaw.

((ooc: I'm workin' on the premise that Nina's alone at the moment...))



She was on her way to check out the graveyard again, especially interested in one specific spirit of death, the Guardian (of sorts) of the graves. It was probably the only Conceptual Spirit that she...could communicate with at the time, though each time she did, she felt a faint disapproval of the Hawk whenever she did so.

That all stopped when she arrived, and stopped, and stared at the scene before her...

"WHAT THE HELL!"

To say Nina was upset about the whole situation was an understatement, of the WORST sort. This was Threads domain, and some fucker decided to fuck around with it...

She put away her notebook and took a deep breath, calming herself down.

"The bastard won't be getting away with this bullshit Threads..." She growled to herself as she began her investigations.

First, she needed to see what kind of damage was done spiritually, which was slowly becoming her domain...she slowly breathed again, trying to calm herself down.

"Mother Luna, I need your help."



((Two-world Eyes Active))

The other side looks surprisingly clean, a few motes of Death float about intermingling with those of decay and consistency. The grass is more bleached, a perpetual haze of corpse gas which seems to linger everywhere, and the obelisk.

It's taller in the Hisil, sharper looking, and it's pointing directly at the sky. You could probably measure it on each side and get the same result but something in the angles looks wrong, as if the proportions are off. You don't see any spirits aside from motes lingering near this spot.

It would appear, for the moment, all danger is gone. Or hiding.

She sighed a breath of relief as one of her fears was laid to rest, the hisil-scape was still okay.

"Hawk...can you get Threads here? I believe he'll want to lead this hunt," her quiet request betrayed none of the nervousness she felt at asking for Threads.

If he wanted to involve everyone else in this...well, it was his choice, or Rends. Either ways, she felt like she needed to stay and face Threads before anything else. If it led to abuse, well, she was used to being beaten and anyways, getting killed by an irate pack member was nothing compared to almost losing your own Will.

Hawk-Who-Watches quirks his head sideways at you, one golden eye fixating on Nina as the pupil dilates. After a moment the Twilight bird takes flight, seeking out Threads as Nina requested. The young Ithaeur's time spent with the totem sufficient to motivate Hawk into doing as she asks. It's the spirits territory as well after all.

It doesn't take Hawk long at all to find Threads, landing atop a tree branch near the Irraka.

"<Nina seeks you by the graves>" Is its short statement in First Tongue. "<A problem with one>"

<I know>

He growls it at the totem as he checks his knife again. Habit. Make sure the different charms are still working, make sure each glyph is doing it's purpose. He ignores the bird as he sets off, naturally sliding through the terrain like a fish through water. He'll have to plan how best to approach the matter. Anger isn't always the best policy. Although it may be his only policy.


-------


He sneaks through this graveyard better than anyone else could. This is after all, his little slice of territory. No-one knows exactly which graves can hide a Uratha, which angles allow a wolf to move entirely unseen from certain viewpoints, or any other number of features of this graveyard like Threads does. Out in the city, he's hard to find because he adapts well to his surroundings. Here, he knows his surrounding. He doesn't need to adapt.

He approaches Nina from the side, his Urshul form pressed low to the ground and running silently, no matter what his paws land on. When he is in range, he leaps at his packmate, front paws on her shoulders, pushing her back and then down.

Breathing like a freight train, he lowers his head and stares directly into her eyes.

<What. Did. You. Do?>

One minute she was waiting for Threads, equally eager and nervous for him to arrive, the next she found herself struggling to escape something's clutches. She could feel herself changing as her struggles became more frantic, as long repressed memories bubbled up in her mind of her kidnapping.

It all stopped the moment she heard Threads' gruff voice speaking in First Tongue.

Threads...not an enemy...Threads...safe....Threads...oh Luna! The Cemetry! He's blaming me! HE'S BLAMING ME!

"I did nothing!" She hissed, her eyes filled with a slowly building indignant anger over the insinuation. "Do you honestly believe that I would fuck up my packmate's domain?" Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she continued, "I came here to do what I asked of you, to learn about spirits in the graveyard. Tonight I found it trashed, and the first thing I did was to look for any spiritual interference...I decided to wait for your instructions for the physical hunt."

Nina finished, her voice had been flat throughout her explaination, her eyes were held steady, looking right into Threads' golden eyes. However, the anger that covered the slowly fading trauma of his attack was slowly being replaced by a profound hurt...

Aren't we packmates Severing the Final Threads? Don't you trust me like I trust you?

<Allowed. You. Entry. Then. Graves. Smashed.>

Each word of the First Tongue is barked and punctuated by his engine-like breathing. His eyes flash with anger, staring at her face with suppressed Rage.

<You. Had. Accident? Cubs. Make. Mistakes>

He is angry, indeed. If he still believes that Nina is responsible, he'll almost certainly hurt her. Possibly hurt her badly. But he doesn't seem to think she's deliberately upsetting the Balance he maintains. She'd probably survive. Probably.

The claws that threatened to bite into Nina's shoulder are relaxed, the runes carved into each glimmer gently as they move.

The hurt in her eyes grew as each accusation hit her hard, tears began streaking down her face as she shook her mutely. She kept her eye contact with Threads.

Aren't I your packmate Threads? You don't trust me?

<No.>

He growls the obvious answer. The one she didn't want to hear but probably knew was coming. He doesn't trust her.

<Trust. No-one. Live. Longer>

He does get off her, though. The paws are removed from her shoulders and he moves to the side, shifting from Urshul to Dalu. A hand is offered to help her pick herself up off the ground.

She stood up on her own, looking down, away from Threads' eyes. It hurt to look into them, to realize that her own Packmate doesn't trust her...that was something to be mulled over at another time though. There was the matter of his part of the territory.

"What are you gonna do?"

If he didn't trust her enough to keep to her word, then he probably won't want the pup around to help with the violation of his territory.

"I'm going to Hunt."

He peels his lips back to show his teeth. Something has fucked with what's his and if it isn't Nina (which it may not be. Or she may be lying to him because she knows what will happen) then it's something he can kill.

"You said before you wanted to learn from me. I don't know much about Rites and I can't tell you much about the Oath apart from how to break it, but I can teach you the Hunt."

She nodded, a part of realizing that maybe this was a way for him to keep an eye on her, it almost made her smile bitterly. However, Nina knew that she had a lot to catch up on, to learn, there was no way she would let this opportunity pass her by.

"I won't slow you down."

"If you do, I'll leave you behind."

That isn't a joke, either. The Cerberan is deadly serious about this Hunt. About all Hunts. He starts off with a purposeful stride towards the broken grave. Perhaps there is something to discover about the attack on his territory.

The grave used to be a tall marker, one could even joke a phallus, and it's mostly intact. There's a deep gash at the bottom where it meets the ground, maybe three inches wide by seven inches tall. The stone at the edges of it is cracked but not from times slow erosion, it was obviously forced. The sprinkling of material all about your feet indicates the direction the force came from... from inside.

There's a distinct lack of birds or other animals and a hush is over the entire cemetary. Quiet enough that Threads might seem loud by comparison even. There's no visible tracks of anything walking nor is there a definate scent with which to track. The air wafting out of the damaged stone is cool and carries a strong aroma of dirt and moisture with undercurrents of rot.

The plaque indicates the person died in 1940... there shouldn't be anything rotting in there, should there?

The material is clean save for the silence which pervades and, as Nina reported, the Hisil is surprisingly empty as well.