Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Mon Nov 3 19:42:46 EST 1997

Using configuration file /turquoise/homes/ammer/.logeditrc Editing out: arrive/left @mail ANSI tf-messages Regexp stripping: Queue, Semaphore, ^Huh\? +Type, ^I don't see that Word-wrapping at 72, 0, 2 -----------------------------------------------------------------------
Cave on the Island(#2648RAJh)

The entrance to this hole in the ground shows signs of many passings, the rough edges of the soft rock are worn away. Inside, you find a comfortably large limestone cave. Stalactites hang from the ceiling, but are high enough overhead so as not to wound careless foreheads. The floor of the cave has been smoothed out, and is surprisingly clean, indicating that the dweller herein has taken pains to make it so. There's probably room for two or three people to sleep stretched out. A small fire pit resides near the entrance, and the air currents fortuitously carry any smoke out of the entrance. A couple of stalagmites have been hewn off and now act as low tables. Whoever lives here shows a knack for making things comfortable.(+view)

A well worn passageway leads out to the narrow hidden entrance to the cave. It's a bit of a scramble to get out. Contents: Cassandra Obvious exits:

Out

Hayes pages to Quiet and Cassandra: The howl carries across the lake easily enough. Familiar voice, probably. ~Ouroboros. I've come to render...apology.~

Quiet raises her head sharply, and then expresses her feelings through the link.

Cassandra looks up at the howl, her next comment apparently saved by the bell, so to speak. "Now there's a voice I ain't heard in forever." She pauses to listen.


Pack> Quiet says eloquently through the link, "Holy fuck."


Pack> Cassandra sends a mental snort. No kidding. Guess who just showed, Patrick.
Pack> Patrick says "Santa Claus wearing a tutu?"

Cassandra stands up, smoothly. "You stay put, babe. I'll go get 'im. Can ya find out where he is?"


Pack> Cassandra says "Nope. Hayes."
Pack> Patrick says "Same difference."
Pack> Patrick says "Both are mythological creatures."
Pack> Cassandra sends over the link, I'll be sure to tell him yousaid that.
Pack> Patrick says "Heh. He'd probably appreciate it, actually."

Quiet sits up but does not follow, apparently still willing to be bossed around by the ragabash.

Cassandra grins, eyes twinkling, and heads out of the cave, ducking to avoid smashing her head. Cassandra clambers out of the cave, ascending to the world above.

From the outside world, Cassandra comes scrambling out of a manzinita bush. From the outside world, Cassandra leaves the grove, heading east.

Soren walks into the lair, satchel slung as usual and his expression serious. His eyes immediately go over toward the Gaian.

Quiet's eyes flicker to Soren. She's actually sitting erect, which might be the first time Soren's seen her do this since she was shot by the Weaver creatures. Hayes is coming, she says bluntly, her form showing a fluttering of emotions. He's coming to make apology, he howled.

Soren smiles as he sees the awakened alpha, nodding as he lowers his satchel. "Feeling better I hope?"

Quiet is. There is a thickness to thinking, still, but it has faded even today. I feel that I could leave the cave tomorrow, if not the island yet.

"You took a hard hit, it seems," says Soren as he opens his satchel. "I have some jerky here, nuts and dried fruit. Some water in this bota-bag. I can squirt it in your mouth if you don't want to change forms." He holds up the leather bag, tooled with native american bead patterns in blues, whites, and reds.

Quiet stands stiffly and slowly stretches. I should try the shift. I haven't. She begins the process, far slower than usual for her, perhaps half the speed a practiced shifter normally takes. But she ends up in glabro finally, still kneeling. She straightens her back and lets out a short chorus of pops.

"Ouch," says Soren with a hint at light-heartedness. He unravels a leather cloth to reveal a rather large supply of deer jerky, a strip of smoked salmon. He spreads out the nuts and dried fruit. "Help yourself, Quiet. The nuts and fruit will help give you energy. The meat, strength."

From the outside world, Hayes arrives from the eastern side of the island.

Andrea lowers her hand and picks up one of the shelled walnuts. She places it in her mouth and chews, but her eyes flicker uneasily. She looks toward the door, then back at the fruit. Finally, she lets out a sigh. She speaks quietly, "At least he's alive."

From the outside world, Cassandra arrives from the eastern side of the island.

Soren follows the glance. "Who, this Hayes that I've heard talk of?"

Hayes clambers through the brush and down into the cave to join you.

Cassandra clambers through the brush and down into the cave to join you.

Andrea nods. She swallows the nut, perhaps harder than she needs to. Her throat bobs with the swallow, even if she has no real Adams-apple. The sound, though, isn't audible over the crackle of the fire.

Cassandra trails in behind Hayes, removing wet shoes and dumping them unceremoniously by the fire. She now wears a scowl on her face, and goes to sit in the far corner away from the fire, her wrist resting on her knee.

Hayes This young man--probably not quite out of his teens--stands at an average height, with a wiry, fit build. He looks at the world out of smoky blue-grey eyes, gleaming with an odd kind of attentive laziness. His hair is dark blond, long and somewhat tangled--it's the kind of length that calls for a haircut, rather than indicating a deliberate fashion choice.

Soren watches Cassandra and then nods her towards the meal. "I just pulled the salmon from the smoker, Cass. Come try it. I need your opinion."

Andrea's hand falls back to her lap and her eyes fix on Hayes. She rocks slowly back on her butt from her kneeling position, moving stiffly.

Hayes' expression is calm and resigned. The same kind of expression he generally got, those who packed with him might recall, before a battle, or other unpleasant task. He's silent, a kind of ritualistic awaiting of notice.

Cassandra's eyes fix on Andrea, watching her intently. Alsmost as an afterthought, she nods to Soren and scoots forward to accept a piece -- sort of a 'hell, why not' gesture.

Andrea finally clears her throat. Those here know her too well to miss the flex of her jaw that betrays tension, but her voice is as even as the rough-toned form will let it be. "Hayes. You return to this caern."

Hayes pauses, double-checking his words, apparently, and answers. "I return to render Contrition."

"So this is Hayes," says Soren half under his breath before pulling at a piece of jerky.


Pack> Cassandra mutters over TeleJade, If that's all he's got in mind, I'd as soon he didn't bother.

Andrea drops her eyes briefly and swallows, but quickly raises them again. She asks, "Is that the only reason you returned to us?"


Pack> Patrick says "Who? Hayes still?"
Pack> Cassandra says "Yeah."

Hayes looks at his feet for a bit, lifts his gaze, and says, "I will seek to rejoin the sept, if the Alpha will allow it. Here...I can only make apology. I've no right to want anything more than that."


Pack> Cassandra says "He says he came back to offer Contrition."
Pack> Patrick says "Better than nothing."
Pack> Cassandra sends a mental shrug. I dunno. Anybody can fuck up once, but if he don't wanna try an' straighten out he ain't even worth the time.

Soren looks over at Quiet, a glance, before reaching over for the bota bag. He squirts a stream into his mouth and then asks, "Where have you been, boy?"

Hayes smiles faintly. "Running on more moonbridges than I care to count. It doesn't much matter," he notes quietly.

Andrea exchanges glances with Cassandra, across Soren. She raises her chin a little, sitting straighter on the little makeshift pallet that she sits on. "Your apology doesn't matter to us, Hayes. It might matter to Jade. What matters to us is your wants, and your reasons, and feelings." Her eyes drop to the fire. "We were your brothers and sisters, at least once."

Cassandra returns the look Andrea shoots at her witha raised eyebrow. After a moment, she shrugs and leans back, crossing her arms across her chest.

Anger does a slow burn behind Hayes' eyes, then retreats back into calmness. "I would render to Jade, then, if there is no need to pack." He draws breath. "Wants? I'm Garou. I do what I must, and when that results in wrong, I do what I must as consequence. Reasons. Stone Eye called in favors I owed, for Rites taught, stories no non-Uktena had heard. I had given my word; I had to go. That doesn't change the wrong of it, and that wrong would've been done had I stayed, that there was double-bind, doesn't excuse it. Feelings?" He shrugs tensely. "I am Garou. They have to be secondary to duty." A deep breath or two, and he adds, "And yes. You were. My leaving was none of your doing. The hurt it may have caused is mine."

Cassandra all but bolts to her feet at that, snarling, "Obviously we never meant shit to 'im. Be outside. Call if ya need me." Her own anger is snapping in her eyes, a rare sight from the normally flippant and laid-back Ragabash.

Hayes focuses wide eyes on nothing, swallows. "You're wrong."

Andrea has raised her eyes from the fire to Hayes during his words. Sadness pulls at the lines of her mouth and she swallows, hard, once again. She then says, "If you wish to ease the pain of your leaving through your apology only, and it will ease your heart, you can." She motions toward Cassandra's back as the ragabash turns to go. "But what we wanted to hear about was how you felt about us, about the family you left. About how you still felt, if you felt anything for us."

Cassandra clambers out of the cave, ascending to the world above.

From the outside world, Cassandra comes scrambling out of a manzinita bush.

Touch Deer enters just as Cassandra rushes out. He watches her go without saying anything directly too her, as he obviously considers that a Bad Thing To Do at this moment. Then, his eyes swivel back to the others present in the cave, and Hayes especially. His eyes linger on him for a short moment before he nods. "I saw you tracks on the island." His expression doesn't betray any emotion right this moment.

Hayes opens his mouth and nothing emerges. He takes several shaking breaths, and tries again. "My...pain is irrelevant. You were my pack. Anything...about how I feel beyond that is...redundant. I did what I thought I had to, and that meant I've spent the last almost-year almost entirely alone. You ask me 'if' and you twist the knife. One and the same." Tears flow slowly near the end, and his voice is steady primarily through an act of will.

Andrea pushes herself to her feet. Despite the care she takes, she sways and stumbles, going down one one knee.

Touch Deer rushes to Quiet's side to help her up.

Andrea holds on to Touch Deer's arm when it's offered and comes off that knee. She's kicked over the water bowl that was next to the pallet, but it was almost empty anyway, and the mess is rather small. She looks up at Hayes, her own eyes shiny. "If you say your own pain is irrelevant, you're saying your love was as well. And ours." She holds out her free hand toward Hayes, the other remaining on Touch Deer, apparently for balance. "Are you saying our pain is irrelevant?"

Touch Deer senses "Andrea is gripping your arm much tighter than she needs to do for balance."

Touch Deer watches Hayes, face twisted into a slight grimace. Whatever he happens to feel about this situation is being hidden as much as he can manage.

Hayes smiles through, with the pain. "I'll walk into some kind of semantic trap no matter how I answer that, won't I? But duty doesn't care. It just...steps on you when it wants. Grinds the heel in your gut. You do what you have to anyway, hope that sometimes there's anything besides."

Andrea drops her hand again, limply, at her side. She leans against Touch Deer, who continues to stand impassively. She drops her face, and a single drop rolls off the side of her nose to fall on her shirt. "There is what you make of it, Hayes. If you don't want it, and say so, there will never be anything besides."

Hayes says "I..." and stops. The almost brutal calm of his first minutes are gone; his tone now is simply bleak. "I don't know what you want me to say. Of course I hurt. Of course I loved. Of course I want. So I come to render apology, and you say apology is meaningless and...what is left? Pain and saline and pain again. I've always been lousy at healing.""

Andrea raises her wet face. "Apology is meaningless, because if you offer words and leave again, your loss still hurts. Do you see?"

Hayes looks down. "I made a point of learning the rite when my...obligation was complete, before I came back. I stared him down into it. I thought...well. I didn't...all I wanted...no. All I thought was *right* to do was do the rite, and not burden with what...I wanted beyond that."

Andrea takes in a breath and lets it out. She keeps her face up, though slow tears make new tracks on her wet cheeks. Her voice has gone a little more normal. "I've found the rite the most useful with spirits, or with Garou that might have gotten irritated because of the moon or a careless word." She stops to clear her throat and wipe her face, but continues quickly. "We're homid-born, our pack. We still react to pain like humans. Just saying you're sorry isn't the same as saying "I wish I hadn't had to, but it's over. Now I'm back. I still love you." Or saying, "I didn't want to leave, but I had to. But we've been apart so long, I don't think we should walk together anymore." Or whatever might be what's the true feeling in your head." She sighs again. "No matter what you want, nothing's going to be easy. Hurt never is. But unless you just want to walk away..." Her face tightens as she trails off in a shrug.

Hayes wipes his face and sighs. "I thought it was going to be a couple weeks. And it turned to month, and another, and another. I wanted to kill him. I want everything back. And I want not to have done the things I have; not to have to do the things I will have to, all the fucking dirt that comes with this piece of shit job. I want the Apocalypse not to happen." The faint smile that touches his lips is still pained, but at least it doesn't look like a spaghetti fork's being twirled in his guts. "When I was about eight, I wanted a mountain bike in the worst way. Being pragmatic about want is burned deep into me, Quiet-rhya. What I must do, I try to do. What I can do in addition, I want to." He sighs. "I never wanted to walk away."

Andrea actually smiles a little, though there's pain in her expression as well. "And we never wanted you to, Hayes. If you had called us, we would have gone, even as the days stretched to months. That is what pack is." She pauses then says, "I want you to be one of us again. I want to know you're at my side, at my back, that you will come when I call, and that I would die to protect you. But I won't lie that it'll be easy, or quick, for any of us." She motions out the door. "She's the first one you'd have to make peace with. She's quicker than any of us to see betrayal, and the fact that she's pregnant hasn't made her any less prickly."

Hayes nods, exhausted. "I'll try. Please talk to Jade if you could? See if...see what she wants of me?"

Andrea says quietly, "When I can step over, I will see."

Hayes rubs his eyes clear. "Thanks."

Andrea is helped back to her pallet by the Wendigo. She looks up at Hayes before shifting, her expression still sad but no longer tightened with pain. She says softly, "Even if you choose not to walk the hard path to join us again, I'm glad to know you're still alive."

Hayes manages, "Likewise," past the lump in his throat. "I better go for now. Give her a chance to cool down."

Andrea nods once. She shifts, then, though the shift is slow and painful compared to the ease the feral theurge usually shifts into lupus. She curls up tightly at watches Hayes.

Hayes makes as though to say something more, doesn't manage it, and retreats from the cave with composure more or less intact.

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