Grotto(#2863RJ)
The woods part suddenly, here, amidst the quiet roar of falling water. A wide
stream spills over the edge of a rocky face that is the western edge of a
hill some thirty feet high. The stones are worn smooth with the passing of
time, and are slick with moisture and soft mosses, but a climb up the drier
rocks would not be impossible, and there is a sense of space behind the
falls.
A wide pool has been carved into the earth by the rushing waters, and the tall
trees have grown out around it, sheltering the grotto in a pleasantly-cool
shade. Rocks, hewn from the cliff face and shouldered along the path of the
stream, form a rough ring around the edge of the pool and guide the flow of
water further westwards, again deeper into the woods. All manner of animal
tracks are visible in the sandier areas of shore; the trees crouch close
against the edge of the stream again as it passes further west, muting the
dull thunder of the falls.
Faint trails, between the trees, lead off in all directions, while a
determined climb eastwards would crest the rock face.

Currently on this calm and cold fall afternoon in the general St. Claire area,
it is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7.2 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from
the southwest at 0 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are clear with a probable
chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (62% full).

Erik is where he was last night, in the cave, bound up securely to prevent
escape. His eyes, at the moment, are closed, his ugly face expressionless.

Heart-of-Fury is watching the mule and his packmate, also in the cave, sitting
attentively on his hindlegs. The grotto proper is empty.

The young Fianna moves quietly towards the Grotto, not attempting to be
stealthy, but more along the lines of one who is growing more used to
traveling that way. As she steps through the last of the underbrush around
the clearing sh freezes, muzzle twitching and ears shooting forward.

Heart-of-Fury remains staring at the metis and Ever-Grinning, his ears
twitching occasionally.

Erik remains quiet and still, as he has been for hours. The gray armor is
cracked at one shoulder, but the torn flesh underneath has healed somewhat
overnight from the ravaging it got from Heart-of-Fury's claws.

First at a walk, then at a trot, then at a full-out run, Kasie heads for the
cave. As the scent of one missing and presumed dead grows stronger, she
sounds an excited bark.

Erik's eyes open at the cub's bark and turn toward the cave entrance. His face
remains impassive. Without warmth, without expression.

Heart-of-Fury growls loudly as the metis stirs. He shows the mule his teeth
and then turns to stare at the cub. One ear flickers to her. Brightspot.

Erik's eyes move to observe Heart-of-Fury, and then turns back to the cub,
regarding her with that same unnatural lack of emotion.

Brightspot doesn't slow in the least as she passes through the mouth of the
cave, and hardly returns her tribemate's greeting. ~Erik!~ She skids to a
stop, her blunt claws scraping for a moment on the cave's floor as she leans
in towards him. Then she stops. Freezes. Her nose twitches and her ears
flicker in confusion. Wh-what happened?

"Specify." The Metis' voice is utterly flat, as passionless with his face. No
music in it, no warm lilt.

Heart-of-Fury snarls again, in a low register. ~The mule has been turned
traitor to Gaia. He says he serves the Weaver now.~ The Galliard stands
then. ~Best to stay back, cub.~

Brightspot's paws don't move, yet still the cub shrinks back from Erik a bit,
lowering down towards the ground slightly. She turns her head towards Steven
and repeats her question, distress clear in her posture. What happened?

~He was captured, we guess,~ Heart of Fury replies. ~But even now he
communicates with the others like him in their nest far to the north of
here,~ Heart-of-Fury states flatly, taking another step. ~Even now, he
proves himself worthless to be called Garou. Giving information to our
enemies.~

Erik observes the young Garou and the manner in which she interacts with the
older one. He says nothing.

The cub looks at Steven, confused. Then as her attention turns back towards
Erik, her belly drops closer to the ground and she extends her head forward,
stretching to sniff at the closest part of him. Tensed, Brightspot growls
softly, ~Erik?~

Erik's own scent is mingled strongly with that of technology, as is Eamon
nearby. Deep-socketed green eyes turn toward the cub, the head moving to
face her.

Brightspot's hackles start to prickle upwards, yet she remains in place as
fear at the unknown and concern war within her. Her soft brown eyes seek his
as she repears in a growl as quiet as the tongue allows, ~Erik?~

Heart-of-Fury continues to growl softly, ready to spring at the slightest hint
of aggression. His attention is almost solely focused on Erik.

Erik moves little more than his head and eyes, as if unwilling to expend
energy uselessly. He continues to regard Brightspot with that same
unnervingly direct gaze. "Specify."

Heart-of-Fury chuffs sharply at the cub. ~He is not as you remember,
Brightspot. That Erik is dead. Maybe never to return, either.~

Brightspot sinks down further, the long fur of her belly now brushing against
the cave's floor. She turns first her eyes, then her face away from 'Erik'.
What's that... stuff on him? How do we get it off?

Heart-of-Fury shakes his head. ~We have taken much from his form already. The
rest...~ He trails off. ~We do not yet know.~ He pauses for a long moment,
turning back to gaze at the mule. ~One thing is certain, though. He will
die, if need be. Prepare yourself for that. Turn your heart to stone, cub.~

Erik turns his face toward Heart-of-Fury, his expression unchangingly bland.

Brightspot slinks backwards a step, but she angles along Erik's body, not away
from it. She lowers herself the few remaining inches to the ground, resting
with her side against his leg. ~Erik,~ she repeats yet again, but this time
more to herself then to the metis. Her eyes go towards heart-of-Fury in
wordless plea to help him.

Erik notes Brightspot's actions, but there isn't even a flicker of warmth - or
any other emotion - in his eyes or face. The brutush, skeletal features
remain bland.

Heart-of-Fury watches Brightspot and his ears flatten against his massive
skull. ~There is nothing to be done now. We will try to use him to our
advantage -- and if, when we are finished disposing of his compatriots, he
still refuses to turn from his path, we will kill him. Shed your affection,
Brightspot. Turn your blood to ice. We can show him no mercy.~

Brightspot's ears continue to twitch, mirroring the storm of emotions within
her. Hardly lifting her head from the ground at all, she nudges Erik's leg
with her nose questioningly, then lays the side of her face against him. Her
eyes squeeze shut.

The armor shrouding Erik's leg has no give at all, and one might get more
gratification from nuzzling a stereo. He continues to observe her with a
mechanical air.

Heart-of-Fury, for his part, doesn't soften at all, watching the metis
once-Fianna like a hawk for a single twitch of opposition. There will be no
sentimental feelings preventing him from action.

Armor or no, Brightspot's furry cheek stays pressed against him, a whine
slowly building in her throat. After a time, she starts crawling sloly up
towards his head, not rising to her paws to do so.

Erik's attention drifts elsewhere, resting on Heart-of-Fury for a moment and
then turning toward the dimming light from the cave entrance.

Heart-of-Fury says, ~Cub, this display demeans us. Mourn him, if you
absolutely must, but do it with dignity.~

Brightspot bites off the sound, but she continues to move up him, stopping
only once she's almost face to face with him. ~Erik,~ she growls louder this
time, her eyes seeking his.

Erik's eyes shift back to the cub as she comes face to face with him.
"Specify."

Brightspot's eyes search his almost as pleadingly as she had looked to Steven
before. ~What happened to you? What can we do?~

The answer comes in that same jarringly flat voice. "This unit was Processed."

~Processed?~ the cub asks before shifting up. "What do you mean?"

Erik says, "Redundant parts are removed in favor of essential ones. The
connection between the one called ~Gaia~ is severed, as is the shapeshifting
ability. Then the unit is brought into her service."

Heart-of-Fury's muzzle parts and he barks sharply, repulsed.

Kasie shifts so that she's sitting coss-legged next to him, her knee almost
touching him. After fidgiting a moment, she folds her hands tightly together
in her lap and tries her best to ignore Steven's reaction. "But something
caught you, right? Bet you fought against them doing... doing..." her words
fail her as she glances at his missing arm. She forces her eyes away and
back towards his and just waves towards it.

"The unit resisted. It was subdued."

Heart-of-Fury settles back on his hindlegs again, his ears still twitching
tensely. He doesn't like having Kasie so close to the cyber-Erik.

Kasie nods as if his answer confirmed something she knew all along. She does,
however, seem at a loss for what to ask next. After a time, "Erik? Can you
hear me?"

Erik's reply is a bland, "Affirmative."

Kasie's next question comes softer, "You okay?" Right, with all those hardware
upgrades, how could he not be?

"This unit functions."

Kasie sighs and shifts back down, laying with her side pressed up against
Erik. She remains there, watching him with worried eyes.

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