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Harbor Park Fountain

The area where the fountain was, and presumably the new fountain will
be, is now totally enclosed by high plywood walls. There is a door in
one of the walls, firmly locked with a padlock. The walls enclose much
of the flagstone area, now, only leaving a little around the edges of
the old courtyard. To one side, some ground is being leveled for
further improvements. Healthy green hedges line one side of the
courtyard, just behind some graffiti-covered benches.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side
of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street. The park
extends to the south.
Contents:
Jose Figueroa
Arln
Kyle
Flowers
Obvious exits:

ManHole River STreet South

Arln shrugs. "Nada. Well, except him. How's you?" She shoots a glance at
the cigar, and says, "I'll take your word for it."

Jose Figueroa watches Kyle place himself perchlike on the back of the
bench and whispers something to Arlen.

Davy comes in from the street, hands jammed in his pockets.

Kyle turns again to look out across the water. His foot taps out an
irritated cadence on the seat of the bench.

Arln waves to Davy. "Hey. Jose's fillin' his lungs with smoke. Why is
that, anyway?"

Jose Figueroa is mock-offended, huffing theatrically. "Only a retard
inhales cigar smoke."

Davy quirks both eyebrows, moving up to Arlen's side. He glances at
Kyle, body noticably tense, but he says nothing one way or another to
the Get. He instead cocks his head at Jose. He gives a short chuckles,
then says, "Not my vice."

Arln says, again, "I'll take your word for it," and scans the park
irritably.

Kyle pulls his trench coat about himself, moving stiffly. He rises to
his feet and walks over to the trio of packmates. "How long are we
gonna wait?" he asks in a grating, annoyed tone.

Jose Figueroa stuffs his cigar in his mouth, peering through the smoke
at the impatient Get.

Arln says, patiently, "As long as it takes."

Kyle snarls and looks at his watch. "I been here an hour. I'll give 'em
another twenty. If they don't give a damn enough to be here, they
don't get ta hear the story from me."

Davy's eyes narrow, but again he says nothing. Arlen, at least, might
notice that he's balled his hands into fists.

Arln lays a hand on Davy's arm. "You, Kyle, can just chill. We clear on
that part of this?"

Jose Figueroa just stands there, like some sort of bar bouncer. Quiet,
but attentive.

Sally MacKay makes her way through the tall grass of the south.

Kyle's snarl deepens, but he bites back any sort of response and he
turns to go back to his perch on the back of the bench.

Sally MacKay bops up from the meadow, her long coat open and swaying in
the breeze despite the cold. Beight of hair and expression, even
within the gathering evening gloom, her movement is easy to track as
she heads for the fountain.

Arln stares at Kyle for a moment, and then snorts and retrieves her
ball.

Dillan makes his way down the disintegrating cement path, leaving the
road behind.

The blonde heads for the plywood surrounded fountain, glancing around to
check out who she knows. Kyle falls into her field of vision first and
she alters her path towards him. "Hey," she grins, then slows to a
stop before fully reaching the Garou, cocking her head at his
expression. "Damn," she comments.

Preceeded by the usual stereo-blasting, Dillan strides into the park. A
quick glance verifies what he'd expected, and he makes a beeline
towards the Get.

Jose Figueroa stands between his packmates like a bar bouncer, arms
crossed, cigar planted firmly to one side of his mouth in his teeth,
lips peeled back.

Kyle grunts irritably to Sally, "Damn is right." He slumps into his
trenchcoat, pulling it tighter about himself.

Arln glances at Sally, irritation well hid. "Evening, Mustang."

Davy's irritation is not so well hidden. He glances toward the kinfolk,
then looks away without greeting her. He says, low, "Should I hunt
them out, you think?"

"Dude, what's wrong?" Sally asks, though her smile is not tempered in
the least by any hint of concern. Head tilted, her full attention is
on Kyle and she hasn't seen Dillan yet. Well, not till Arlen calls and
she glances away to return the greeting. Then both he and she get a
single, "Hey," and another of her brightest smiles.

Dillan returns the smile. "Heyhey, Sallybabe." He wandersover past Arlen
to nudge KYle. "Yo. I miss much?" he asks, a bit quiet.

Kyle's shoulders rise and fall. "Nothing at all, man. Still waiting with
my thumb firmly planted in my butt for the rest of the troupe to
show." This seems to answer Sally's query too, in Kyle's mind, as he
goes back to scowling.

Sally MacKay steps in towards Dillan and Kyle as their voices drop, as
if of course she, too, should be included in whatever is happening
here. Her smile never fading, she glances between the two with growing
excitement, "Something happening tonight?"

Kyle jabs a thumb towards the other trio. "Gonna fill 'em in on the
details of how Alexander died." He doesn't seem to relish the thought
at all.

Sally MacKay glances at Dillan questioningly, then looks back to the
Get. "Who?"

Dillan seems somewhat reluctant to answer. "You'll find out," he says,
simply.

Morgan makes her way through the tall grass of the south.

Kyle's frown remains firmly in place. "Their old Alpha. I killed him and
ate his corpse." His eyes fix on a place on the ground in front of
himself.

Jose Figueroa takes his cigar out of his mouth. "Well, I guess I c'n go
home now." He puts the cigar back, not moving an inch.

Morgan makes her way north toward her packmates. She stands near Davy,
her eyes glancing to Kyle, before she looks over her own packmates
silently.

Kyle's lips curl into a snarl once more, but he only turns to meet
Dillan's gaze.

Sally MacKay's standing between Kyle and Dillan, listening to the Get.
Her reaction couldn't be more typical. She blinks at him, then her jaw
drops and the blonde blinks again. She takes a step back, then laughs
a little. "You what? You're fuckin' kidding me, right?" she sounds
like she's hoping he is kidding.

Davy's hands have clenched again. He stares hotly at the ground, body
trembling ever so slightly.

Arln puts a hand on Davy's arm again, silently.

"No ketchup, even," Dillan points out, to Sally.

Arln's lip curls at this. And she didn't even know him.

Morgan snorts angrily. "That's real fucking cute, you little punk."

Kyle looks away from Dillan, the snarl fading to a frown. Spying Morgan,
he rises to his feet. "We gonna get this show on the road, yet?"

Davy's body had started to unwind, just slightly, with Arlen's touch.
Dillan's comment causes him to jerk his head up and toward the
theurge. He takes a step forward with an inhuman growl trickling up
from his throat. Only Arlen's continuing touch keeps him from going
further.

Jose Figueroa did, and is severely not amused at the Lord. /Severely/.
He sends Dillan a look that would melt stone.

Dillan tsks, lifting a warning finger. "Glade, gee. No fightin'. Watch
yourself." The Shadow Lord must posess a fairly adequate lack of rage
to be so calm right this moment.

Sally looks to Dillan for confirmation, then back to Kyle. "Fuck," she
draws the word out, her tone the same one might use when looking at an
especially messy, fresh roadkill: surprised disgust. She shifts around
to Dillan's other side, placing him between the Get and herself, and
herself closer to the other group.

Arln's touch gets slightly less light, restraining, one might even say.
"Later for him," she tells him.

Morgan mutters, "You won't be in here forever, you little shit." She
shifts her eyes to Kyle and then arches her eyebrows. "Well?" she
says, crossing her arms.

Jose Figueroa stuffs a finger up into Dillan's face. "Remember who's
back yard you walk through ta get here, douchebag."

Dillan looks distinctly unpleased with Jose. "Bite me. Your game is
weak, so just sit down, shut up, and listen. 'cause that *is* whatcha
came here to do, yeah?"

Davy shows his teeth at Dillan, for all his homid shape. He gives a
short nod to Arlen, then curls his lip at Dillan's weak excuse.
"Fucking coward. You talk with a ragabash's tongue, but you ain't got
the balls to back it up."

Arln grates, "Dillan. Shut the fuck up, now. I'm pissed, and I'm the
nice one."

Sally MacKay takes another step back, out of the path between the two
groups, though not by much. Slipping her hands into her pockets, she
listens.

"Why dotcha, then," Dillan asks, looking over Jose to Arlen, "be real
'nice' and drag your friend outta my face?"

Jose Figueroa doesn't seem a bit plussed. "Faggot."

Morgan snaps her head toward the Gnawer ahroun. "Jose, back off." Her
nose wrinkles. "That's all the little prick's got is words."

Arln says, quite politely, "Because, I'm making sure Davy's not going
/through/ your face. Get a grip, Dillan."

Kyle largely ignores the posturing, apparently totally unimpressed.
Taking Morgan's stance as indication that he can finally get this
thing over with, he starts talking quietly.

Jose Figueroa goes quiet, but doesn't back off.

"So," Kyle begins, his sour frown coloring the speech. "Here it is.
Starts when I come into the park. Walk in, and spot Alexander down by
that bench over there." He indicates one of the benches near the back
edge of the park. "Walk up ta him, and the first thing outta his mouth
is some snide remark about Untouchables. I ignore it, but I'm already
gritting my teeth."

Arln continues staring silently at Dillan, but she's listening quite
intently.

Pack> Jose Figueroa assumes some theurge is ToG'ing Kyle? I would. :)
Pack> Jose Figueroa says "Wait. That's a philo thing?"
Pack> Morgan says "It's a philo thing."
Pack> Davy says "Philo. Which we don't have since Hershey bailed."

Dillan shakes his head. "Nah. I got a little bit of style too. And some
dignity, since I ain't playin' some fucked up pissing contest in the
middle of the park. Y'all can fuckin' chill, or fuck off."

The kinswoman lingers around the outer edge of the gathering, watching
with the excited attention she'd give a barfight. Her gaze returns to
Kyle as he starts talking.

Morgan gives Kyle a short nod, apparently ignoring Dillan.

Davy's body is like a bowstring, but he turns away from Dillan with some
small effort. His eyes fix on Kyle as the Get speaks.

Kyle turns to his packmate, and his quiet voice rises to a sharp growl.
"Look, I told you how I'm gonna play this. If you can't hang, step out
and back. I want to get this bullshit over with."

Dillan lifts both hands. "What? I'm the one bein' chill," he protests.
"Ain't be no problem if everyone wasn't steppin''"

Jose Figueroa has ignored Dillan for the nonce, the story why he came.
He resumes his crossed arms and cigar in the teeth stance.

Arln continues staring at Dillan.

Be damned if Sally's staring at Dillan; the kinswoman is watching the
real show: Kyle.

Kyle's brow rises incredulously at Dillan, but he turns back to the
group. "Anyway," Kyle continues, voice grating, "We start in about the
cash from the drug raid. He's all tellin' me how I ain't got no choice
and the money's gonna be spent on what *he* decides, and I'm all fuck
that noise. I got the cash. And so he's tellin' me how all the other
packs think he's cool and shit, and starts twisting my words. So,
like, I'm just getting more and more pissed off. I tell him he can go
fuck himself, how I'm gonna kick his ass. And he ends up sayin' he's
accepting my challenge. I mean, whatever, here we are, and I'm about
ta kick his butt, so pissed off I can barely think, and he's still
talking."

Pete Barlow makes his way down the disintegrating cement path, leaving
the road behind.

Kyle's forehead is seriously creased now, and the words start to come
more slowly. "Okay, so here we are, and I'm like right on him."
Phrases come one at a time, spaced with considered pauses. "Now he
starts saying shit like not here." Kyle starts into motion now,
clearly straining to remember what happened. "He pulls True Fear out
on me. On *me*." Remembered fury has Kyle pacing back and forth, hands
clenched into fists. "I turn that shit around on him, and he's _still_
talking." The Get's frustration twists his face into a snarl. "Damn.
I'm just seeing red. I sorta remember him running, or dodging, or
something like that. And I'm in Crinos, and he's not."

Pete Barlow walks slowly into the area around Harbor Park's fountain, or
where it once stood. The big guy has a canvas bag in one hand,
swinging at his side. It doesn't take long for the big fellow to spot
the gathering and head that direction, stopping beside Jose.

Morgan's still just watching Kyle silently, her arms folded across her
chest. Her face is etched into a deep frown, as she listens.

Sally watches Kyle not only speak, but move, her wariness at war with
the excitement of the near fight just moment's earlier.

Kyle's pacing stops, and his shoulders hunch forward as his gaze drops
to the ground. He largely ignores Barlow's arrival, intent upon his
own tale. "I Thralled. I do not remember any of it, but I know what I
saw when I had my shit again." He looks up, now, avoiding the gaze of
the onlookers, staring across the dark river. "He's there," he
continues quietly, tightly. "In front of me, all torn to hell. And his
body's open, gutted, and I *know* I did it. I fucking ate him, like
some kind of Wyrm goddamned cannibal." And he turns to face
Alexander's packmates.

Arln looks down at the ground.

Jose Figueroa looks at Pete, then Morgan, keeping his thoughts his own,
for now.

"How'd he taste?" asks Barlow in a voice low, dark, and suddenly
brooding.

Sally MacKay's nose wrinkles and her lips pull back into a grimace of
disgust, but she doesn't seem to be able to look away from the Get.

Kyle watches the reactions, emotions flashing behind his ice-emerald
eyes. He meets Barlow's gaze, but he doesn't bother with a response.
Instead he faces Morgan and continues. "Here's a part I ain't said
before. 'Kay? I dunno if you all will get this, what it means and all.
But I used the fetish I carry, the Hot Blood of Triumph. I took his
blood, and fed it to the fetish, and breathed the smoke." His lips
draw tight as he tries to explain something he clearly barely
understands himself. "It gave me something of Thunder's Claws. Some of
his quality. I did it to honor him--but I don't expect ya to
understand that."

Morgan swallows, her face flushing as she watches Kyle wind up his
story. "And that's that, then?" she says to the Get, her voice
strained. Her cheek twitches minutely, as she struggles for control.

Dillan lifts both brows with this new little revelation. He folds his
arms over his chest, and waits, watching the other pack's reactions.

"Fucked him and smoked him," says Barlow with a shake of his head and a
glance over at Jose and then Morgan. "And now you wants that we should
think you got something of Big Al inside you?"

"Well," he shakes off the paralysing memory, shruging on to the mundane
details that wrap the tale up in a tidy little package. "I dragged him
off into the trees, then called Dillan from the pay phone. Cutter
swung by on patrol, too, and we took his body back ta the Caern.
Figured it was risky, but he deserved better'n being tossed in the
river." The Get straightens, and his eyes meet those of the pack Edge
evenly, his story done.

Jose Figueroa wrinkles his nose at the explanation of the fetish,
apparently sickened at that more than the story.

Arln looks up, anger and an odd respect warring in her eyes.

"Dude." Jose finally speaks up. "I'm a traveller, see. I met Claws of
Thunder in Boston, and he tol' me to come here. He was well-known all
over. I get here, an' you fuckin' used him as a midnight snack." He
shakes his head, unbelieving. "Jus' cause he said somethin' to you."
He looks over at the Lord.

Morgan snarls, "Well, thanks so fucking much, Kyle, for not dumping his
body in the river." The cords in her neck strain, as her arms come
away from their defensive place across her chest. "I'm sure it was the
least you could do."

Davy shakes his head, his tension not slacking any for the intense frown
come to his face. "I'm no halfmoon, but two things I don't understand.
You say Alexander said he accepted your challenge? He wanted to fight
you right here in the park?"

Arlen makes her way down the disintegrating cement path, leaving the
road behind.

Sally just happens to pick this moment to wander a little further away
from the group. She makes it seem casual, just a shifting of positions
to get a better angle, not that she's trying to get away from all the
angry werewolf-types.

Kyle looks from Jose, to Morgan, to Davy. He focuses on the only actual
question in the stream of vitriol; but the strain is clearly slowing.
He is holding himself back from rage with a ferocious effort, and his
words come in a tight, grating slew. "Shit, Davy, I don't think so. I
mean, he was saying stuff about a challenge. But if he wanted to fight
there, he woulda shifted and anted up. And I woulda taken a hit or
two."

Davy nods. For all his dislike and tension, the rabagash's words to the
Get seem honest at least. "That's what I was wondering. He chewed my
ass out for shifting here once, and I was just doing damage control."
He meets the other fostern's eyes, frown twisting his face. "I don't
know why he would have backed away, otherwise. That's the other thing.
Alexander wasn't afraid of God, but he was death on shifting anywhere
anyone could see you. But that means you killed him outside of
challenge."

Kyle's face twists in distaste. He doesn't seem clear on the distinction
Davy's making, and the irritation of the evening's tension is building
up a pretty good head of steam. "I killed him in a fucking *Thrall*. I
ate him." His shoulders rise and fall in frustration.

Dillan doesn't have much to say at this point. Some might consider this
a good thing.

Sally MacKay's still moving slowly, almost wandering back behind the
group of Morgan et al and away from Dillan and Kyle.

Arlen turns her hard gaze to the ground.

Davy crosses his arms across his chest. The ragabash continues to scowl
as he speaks up for his simmering pack. "You killed him outside of
challenge, and that makes you no better than a murderer. At least you
have the balls to own up to it. I just wish those doing your judgement
hadn't had their head up their asses, because that was something the
sept should have know. They have rites for things like that." His
greenish gaze is hot, but he gives a harsh shrug. "But right now, it'd
just be two dead. Don't fuck with any more of mine, and I'll
personally be glad to leave you the hell alone. Even though I hope it
continues to haunt you to your grave." He turns that hard-eyed stare
on Dillan. "Unlike you, you little putz. Brave when you have your
alpha around and are on ground you claim you can't be beaten on. I see
what kind of respect you afford your former tribe leader. Kyle ate
him, and gives him more respect. You should crawl back into your hole
and thank your lucky stars that no one here expects you to have a
shred of honor."

Sun-Bringer makes his way down the disintegrating cement path, leaving
the road behind.

Dillan steps up towards Davy, regardless of any spics in his way. "You
can start swallowin your words chump. You can guess all you want 'bout
who I respect for what, here, but you don't go dissin what I got for
my tribe. You start with that, I'll lay a whole world of beatdown on
your doorstep, punk."

Davy turns a tight smile on Dillan. "I'll be glad to kick your ass any
time you want to start something. I think you hold shit for your
tribe, and it's lucky that there's no one strong enough here to care
anymore."

Arlen moves behind Davy, arms crossed.

Once she's reached the 'safe' position behind Davy, Jose, and Morgan,
Sally stops walking and goes back to watching.

Yet another set of dark wings in the dark night flies down from a nearby
building, settling in on a tree branch over one of the park's benches.
It's a largish bird, but difficult to tell exactly the species in the
moon-shadowed branches.

Jose Figueroa simply nods at Davy's thoughts.

Kyle gets a sort of 'yeah yeah are we done' expression as Davy's rant
rolls over him like a truck. He runs his hand through his hair and
watches Dillan and Davy with a scowl.

Morgan looks relieved that Davy's taken over the talking for the pack,
her own feelings clearly written on her features: hard, barely
restrained emotion, her cheeks red with blood, her eyes locked on
Kyle's. She turns away from the Get with a snap of her head, her steps
having an almost military precision.

Pete Barlow simply nods, looking over at the Get after his packmate's
words. "Strikes me that..." Barlow stops as Dillan speaks up, the big
Gnawer's eyes narrowing as tight as the fist clenched over the canvas
bag at his side. The big Gnawer almost growls before looking over at
Karl. "I want to know what the fuck you and your pack are doing to
take care of this park."

Morgan makes her way onto the street in the west.

Arlen's attention is dragged to Pete, unwillingly.

Jose Figueroa nudges Pete. "Janitors."

Kyle turns slowly to face Barlow, "You want to know what?"

Dillan clenches his teeth, and aims a finger at Davy. "Yeah? Well, shows
all the fuck you know. Typical. Run around spouting shit you know jack
about. I'll take you up on that offer, 'cept I know who be gettin' all
the whoopass in that contest, you stankin-ass ho."

The gnawer shakes his head. "Deaf too? I said, I want to know what the
fuck you and your pack are doing to take care of this park." Pete
gives barely a glance at Dillan.

Sally MacKay steps back into motion again, this time heading for the
nearest bench. She hops up onto its back, leaning forward to watch.
All that's missing is the bucket of popcorn to complete the picture.

Kyle's lip curls into a snarl as he steps towards Barlow. "I spend half
my fucking life here. So do Dillan 'n Cutter. What's it to you?"

Arlen puts a hand on Davy's arm, firmly. "Challenge him sometime. When
he's not here. Or when he is here. But not right at this moment. When
things are getting settled."

Davy pushes against Arlen's arm, rage pushing hard against better since.
The ragabash then snorts. "He doesn't deserve to be challenged. He
deserves his bottom spanked. All words and no balls."

"What's it to me?" says Barlow with a forced half-chuckle. "I am a son
of Rat, KillerBoy, and you ain't been doin' shit to take care of this
place as far as I can tell. When's the last time you sweeped the
Glade?"

Arlen keeps her hold tightly on his arm. "Feel free to Challenge him,
or, hell, spank him, but after Pete's done, ok?"

Undine appears in a swirl of wind and light.

Dillan looks real scared. Not. Davy's threats don't have much effect on
the Shadow Lord. "Ooo. Davy wants his hands all over my fine bee-hind.
Sick, holmes. Keep your paws off me, 'k? I ain't here to listen to you
spout your shit at me."

Sally MacKay pulls her coat a little tighter around herself, watching
the action with bright eyes.

Jose Figueroa holds no pack member back. He still stands stoically, face
crunched in agitation.

Davy, surprisingly, actually laughs. He laughs in Dillan's face, finding
release in the belly-deep amusement. "You only wish, Dillan. Sorry,
you're not my type."

Kyle snorts, leaning forward to face down Barlow. "I don't answer to
you, asshole." He abruptly turns his back on Barlow, looking over to
his packmate.

Arlen says, quietly, "No, but you answer to Brian."

Pete Barlow reaches out a powerful hand to te Get's shoulder, attempting
to swing Kyle back around to face him. "As a matter of fact,
KillerBoy, you do. You answer to every gawddamned person who needs
this fuckin' park and what it means. Do you understand me?"

Dillan turns away from Davy, the conversation with Barlow at the fringe
of his attention for too long now. "Gee? You're trippin'," he points
out, backing up his alpha. "I be checkin' the Glade a fuck of a lot
more than anyone else. Not to mention I ain't too worried 'bout
someone who turns his back on his pack layin' insults out 'bout anyone
else, so shove it."

Arlen's voice is low. "That explains the water spirit's disappearance,
then. And those banes Pete and I whupped the night we met."

Kyle turns slowly, despite the pressure of the Gnawer's insistant grab.
"Hands off." His tone is deadly serious, and for the first time this
evening he seems ready to lose control and lose it badly.

As if she was watching a tennis match, Sally's attention flickers back
and forth between Dillan and Davy, and Kyle and Pete. Her hands are on
the top of the bench next to her butt and her feet tap lightly against
its seat as if just waiting for the right moment to swing themselves
up and over the back, placing her fully behind it.

Davy, for all that he has less than a third of the Get's inherent rage,
doesn't seem that far behind. The laugh fades, but the hot anger in
his eyes doesn't. He watches Dillan, standing right next to Arlen.

Barlow's own tension seethes just below the surface of control, his hand
loosed from the Get's shoulder now that its work is done. "Just the
fuck what I thought. The Catamite there don't know the Glade from his
asshole... and you? You think you and your two boys are doin' anything
but pickin' up cigarette butts here? Shit, if Edge wasn't keepin'
watch here, the place would be worse fuckin' shape than it is now."
The elder Gnawer shakes his head, disdain in his eyes. "You ain't done
shit on your watch, KillerBoy."

Dillan steps away, suddenly, a wide grin on his face. He reaches back
and taps his alpha on the arm. "I get it. They're playin' us. They're
gonna sit back and say we're chumps, spew out buncha lies, get us all
riled, and make us look like the bad guys. Not gonna work. You can say
whatcha want, but I know who be doin' all the work here, who be the
ones responsable for the place. So y'all can step down 'fore you start
anything."

Davy's lips twist into a hard grin. "Don't judge us on your standards,
Dillan. I don't lie."

Kyle's teeth grate, audibly, as he meets Pete's gaze levelly. "That's
pretty much it, Dillan. Yeah, they talk hot shit but talk is cheap.
They ain't worth my fucking time."

Arlen says, evenly, "What would you have us do, to prove our willingness
here? We already do it. Just ask, as it can be proven."

"Ain't worth your time..." repeats Barlow with a shake of his head. He
looks over at Arlen, "These shits can't even catch /my/ scent here or
on the Flip. Guess ignorance is bliss." Pete then turns back to Kyle,
the expression on the older man's face turning dark, menacing. "You've
got another month, KillerBoy, to prove to all of us that you can do
more than squat and piss in this Park. After that, your watch is over.
As if it ain't already been over to this point."

Arlen murmurs, "And Fiannaboy says that if we can prove they're not
doing the job, he can do it all official and kick 'em out, too. So
we've got both avenues covered." She beams at Dillan.

Dillan folds his arms over his chest and draws a breath. "Why don't you
run along and play, now? You've talked your litte peice, gotten up on
your soapbox. The meeting is over. You're free to come to the Glade
whenever you want, just stop tryingto start trouble. Or is that too
complex for you to understand?"

The kinswoman continues to watch, though the air of casualness is gone.
Restlessly Sally's feet tap against the bench's seat and her hands
hold the wooden slat she's sitting on tightly.

Kyle shakes his head and turns on his heel. "Cheap, kids. Real fucking
cheap." Without waiting for a response, he strides off towards the
southern exit of the park.

Arlen says "Dillan. My fine feathered friend. Kyle. You did not answer
the question that I asked."

Davy's greenish eyes fix on Dillan. "I, Davy Wears-the-Woad, grandson of
Sings-Down-the-Moon, descendant of Strikes-Back-In-Blood, challenge
you to tooth and claw. Not for your park, but to let you know you do a
poor job of imitating my auspice, and I will make you bleed for your
words."

Kyle picks his way south, into the overgrown meadow.

Dillan isn't about to back down. "Fine. You want to start some
dick-waggin' contest instead of lookin' after what Gaia set us here to
do? Okay then, I'll throw down."

Pete Barlow watches the Get walk off, his jaw working with seething
anger. With a glance at Arlen and Davy, Pete turns and walks around
the other side of the boarded up fountain and into the darkness.

Arlen looks measuringly at Davy, then at Dillan. "I'm going with Chugs.
That ok?"

Pete Barlow seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.

The others leaving is a good enough cover for Sally to make a quick
exit. She gives Dillana quick wave, not waiting around to see if he
catches the gesture or not before she swings her legs over the back of
the bench and heads back down towards the meadow.

Sally MacKay picks her way south, into the overgrown meadow.

Davy nods once, shortly. "The woods, then. When the moon gets close to
half." He smiles without humor, "Next Wednesday, if you prefer. And
the reason I'm waiting until then is so I can fight during the fuller
part of the moon, like any real Garou would. I do what Gaia birthed me
for. Too bad you can't say the same for Luna." He turns, dismissively.
"I'll go with you, Arlen. I need to rumble."

Arlen just nods, moving to the river.

Arlen's eyes stop contemplatively on her reflection.

Arlen seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.

Undine's eyes stop contemplatively on its reflection.

Dillan folds his arms and watches Edge leave. For some reason, the
Shadow Lord looks awful triumphant about this.

You start to reach through the umbra.

Davy's eyes stop contemplatively on his reflection.

Undine seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.

A ripple of Umbral wind swirls about you, and the Gauntlet parts.

Davy seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.

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