Walker Safe House - Lobby(#2832RAJL)
This small tenement building is a work that any interior decorator would be proud of. The building is somehow filled with light and space, despite the fact that the room is far from large. Mirrored surfaces and lush green potted plants are much in evidence - jarring only slightly with the video cameras that perch unobtrusively in various locations. A small sign on the wall lists the number of apartments upstairs as eight, though there are no names next to the apartment numbers. A very thick door leads downstairs, with no visible method of being opened - except a keypad next to it. A monitor is perched above the entrance, showing images from the hidden camera that watches the outside of the building.
The lobby branches off into what appears to be a small recreation room; for use only by residents and their guests.
(+VIEW Enabled)
Contents:
Anneka
Current Safehouse Residents (Feb 19/02)
Obvious exits:
Rec Room Basement Stairway Out

In the Rec Room, Slipping his cell phone away and scratching yet again at his neck and hair, the Glabro'd Walker Elder snarls at the air in general, and then shifts back to lupus. And recommences pacing. Waiting for the Cleansers to arrive back for instructions. Walks-Thin-Ice seems most displeased as he paces aimlessly.

Anneka is sitting, crosslegged and barefoot in a corner, sandy, curly crazy hair sticking out in curls all over, framing her sunny, freckled face in a halo. She's clean for once, groomed and neat, though the cuffs of her jeans are in tatters and there's a hole near the hem of her oversized tee. Her chin's propped in upturned hands, she's watching a little pile of cat food, dark on the lobby's floor. A cockroach is perched on one of her knees, a few more arrayed about the kibblish mountain. Antennae wave, the wolfish kid grins. Then she squints, scratches at one of her arms.

In the Rec Room, The dire-looking black wolf pauses in his pacing, to narrow his eyes and give the sandy-haired girl a closer inspection. There's a vague puzzlement slipping over the general frustration. He just... watches for a moment.

From upstairs there is a quiet beep of a keycard being swiped, and followed by footsteps down the hallway and stairs towards the lobby. Yi appears, nothing in tow this time, but obviously annoyed. She scratches at her neck, glancing at the hispo and her tribesmate.

The sandy-haired kid has angry red spots on her arms amidst the sandy-colored fuzz, more on her feet but in spite of this she looks serene. She watches as the insects scuttle away at the other Gnawer's approach, though a few of the larger ones stay, bold as something well at home. Anneka grins, lifts a hand to wave to Yi. "Hi! Um-- fleas."

Yi strips her jacket from her body, revealing not just scars but similar red fleabites occupying parts of flesh. The ragabash takes the brief opportunity of having blunt fingernails to scratch furiously at her arms until there are streaks of red, and even dots of blood. "I know. Nothing gets them off." Muttering further in her native language, she shifts to the healing form of the half-man and lowers herself down beside Anneka. The newmoon watches the cockroaches as well, though her mind seems set somewhere else.

In the Rec Room, Walks-Thin-Ice shifts to a smaller form - lupus - though the word 'small' hardly seems appropriate. The oversized wolf pads slowly over, giving an all-too-human frown of mild confusion and disapproval at the sight of the Gnawers and the roaches. He gives a short sniff, reinforcing the suggestion.

"I think they like cat food," Anneka says. "I thought about givin' them ice cream, since I like it, but I wouldn't like it if my legs got stuck in it, so I didn't." She looks up as the wolf approaches, quirks a corner of her mouth up in a lopsided smile. "Hi."

Yi takes a little longer to look up as well, distracted as she is. When she sees the wolf, her head inclines slightly. "Maybe you can use a spoon," the ragabash suggests to her halfmoon companion. "They are pretty smart. I don't think ice cream will do too much to their feet." Then, the Gnawer gazes towards the Walker. "You have them too?" Obvious reference there.

In the Rec Room, In an obviously sour mood, the Walker grunts at the Gnawers. Roaches walk through all kinds of filth. They're not afraid to get dirty, and it's difficult to get them stuck. Pausing to lower his body and scratch at an ear with a hind leg, Walks-Thin-Ice growls in addition, Need Cleansing. Not normal fleas.

"I have a spoon," Anneka says. "But it has things on the end, so it's not really a spoon. It's a mutt." She stretches one of her arms out, looks at the welts crossing her arms and wrinkles her nose. "It's good you're here. They hurt a whole lot if you're human."

"The enemy gets smarter," Yi grumbles whilst echoing the Walker's scratch with a more accessible finger. "Who was it that said if we couldn't defend this place, then we should skip country?" The Gnawer newmoon, even irritated as she is like this, smirks. "A cleansing would be good." Scratch sratch. "Very good." Scratch.

Anneka reaches over and starts scratching the ragabash, a dangerous smirk painted on her sharp, lupine face. "Fleas! Yuck for fleas! Fleas!" The cockroach perched on one of her knees scuttles down to join one more near the small pile of kibble.

In the Rec Room, Walks-Thin-Ice simply stands, giving a little shiver at the sensations of fleas feasting on his blood, and just glowering at the two for no real reason.

Yi is all about ready to rip off her shirt. If it weren't indecent, that is. Instead, the Gnawer stands up and moves off to a side to shift down to the smaller lupine form before returning to the halfmoon's side. Itching away at her neck, the newmoon pauses only briefly to glance at the icy eyed walker. What?

Anneka scrunches her nose up as she scratches away at the wolf's ruff, then slips down into the lupine form as well to scratch at her ears with a hind leg. Fleas! Ugh. The wolf glances at her tribemate, reaches a paw up to scuff at the darker wolf's ruff, then curls about to chew at a flank.

In the Rec Room, Walks-Thin-Ice's eyes narrow even further, and he snarls, Enough! The larger, scarred wolf spins away, and begins the pacing, once more. Thank Gaia the moon is small... These fleas... the /irritation/ is not helpful.

Three-Blades tries to concentrate amidst the chewing, snapping, scratching... The Itching! Grr. How are we supposed to scout when we can barely stand these tiny monsters? Almost as if recalling her master's teachings, the Gnawer sits stock still for a moment. Eyes closed, maybe meditating will... Graaagh! Resume fur chewing.

In the Rec Room, Walks-Thin-Ice closes his eyes and remains upright. There have been worse plagues. Remain focussed on something else. Do not chew yourself... injury to you /by/ you takes longer to heal. These fleas are but a passing nuisance til Cleansers come.

The sandy-hued wolf glances at Walks-Thin-Ice, cants an ear in his direction. The ear cants back as she continues nibbling at a flank, a rough-padded paw slipping along the lobby's floor. Then she lifts her head and settles down on her stomach to watch the roaches eat. Her ears tilt forward. The insects sup on the triangular kipple, nonchalant.

Three-Blades lets go a whine of very short-lived relief, at least to one part of her flank. Or at least, until it comes back. Prick, prick. Her golden eyes watch the Walker, ears laid back, but nevertheless she takes the advice to heart. Not a good idea if I bleed by my own jaws, true. With Anneka occupied on the roaches, and the Walker on god knows what, Yi lies down on the floor to think about how to ...get rid of these damn fleas...

In the Rec Room, Walks-Thin-Ice starts pacing, again. First, Cleanse, then scouting. Then more cleansing before scouting. Then... I will breakaway from the group to find Bitter-Cup and Peacekeeper. Too little communication. And the Uktena Elder is flighty. Literally.

Hope-Star knows the cleansing method. And Shadow Eyes. These two I know... but have not seen. Three-Blades sits up again, unable to keep very still for very long. Skyscraper knows too, I've heard. An ear swivels towards the upstairs. We should find someone. Quickly.

The lanky, sandy wolf seems thoroughly absorbed by the cockroaches, long muzzle set on her forelegs, ears canted forward, attentive. The sun's going down. We should find someone soon. An ear cants towards the Walker.

Walks-Thin-Ice just paces. The call has been put out. They should come soon.

Three-Blades sniffs once towards the cockroaches, then gets up to pace. I was patrolling high up. There was nothing new, luckily. The newmoon scratches once at her ear. Maybe they are still busy... over there.

Bridge-Mender's ears flatten against her skull, a low growl stirs somewhere deep in the lanky wolf. We're going to take the caern back.

Walks-Thin-Ice continues the relentless movement, restraining a frustrated energy, and grumbling. Should have properly moved people.

Jamethon approaches the front door of the house, as seen on the monitor and knocks upon the door. Under one arm is a bundle wrapped in a rough brown fabric.

Three-Blades snorts at Bridge-Mender once. No sense in getting more angry right now. Wait until we are there, right? The Gnawer turns a tight circle and sits again, still like a rock.

Soft footsteps announce Lyra's presence before the swinging of the basement door does. The Philocub wriggles her nose, scratching at her arm. She blinks, looking around at the three wolves in the lobby. "Oh, em, hello," she says, smiling at Anneka and nodding to the two others she doesn't recognize. "Am I interrupting something?"

Bridge-Mender licks her nose, a pink tongue dabbing out. She sweeps her ears forward then pushes herself up, blunt claws ticking on the floor as she slips over to look up at the cub. Four-Leaves, hello! She circles once about the cub, then settles down on her haunches to scratch at an ear with a hind leg. Near the other wolves there's a little pile of cat food, a few roaches gathered near it.

Jamethon knocks once more and unravels his bundle, catching another bundle in a thin white cloth from it. He wraps the first cloth around himself like an arabic cloak, covering all but the shadows of his eyes.

Three-Blades perks both ears up at the second knocking. She missed the first while chewing on her fur. Seeing Lyra, she whuffs a quick hello, shifting upwards to a form with some opposable thumbs and heads towards the large security door.

Bridge-Mender looks over towards the monitor as Three-Blades walks to the door, cants her head, an ear askew, as she looks at the man displayed there. He looks like a caterpillar.

Walks-Thin-Ice shifts up into Glabro. Recognising the Get, as he approaches the door, the Walker opens it, with his head ducked. "Get in, quick," he rumbles, closing it quickly after the entering Theurge.

Lyra smiles again at Bridge-Mender, an action that would frighten any other person beyond speech. The cub frowns and scratches behind her ear, too. She must have picked up ticks in the basement, or something. They were vicious enough that she'd shifted before coming upstairs...her arms and legs were dotted red. She watches the unfamiliar wolf shift upwards, and watches the entering man with equal curiosity- until she itches again. ~I think...I think I have fleas,~ she mutters.

Yi arches a brow, with Anneka's comment getting a quick, dry laugh. Or even better, that the Get is alive. "You're still breathing too," she notes when Jamethon comes in. The voice, now slightly more recognizable for Lyra, would identify her to be Yi. Or some ancient hoard mongol's wife that looks remotely like her. "We all do," Yi says irritatedly, now that she's reminded of that itch in the small of her back.

We all do. Bridge-Mender stretches her muzzle out, lips parted as she scratches with a certain enthusiasm at one ear. They're really bad fleas.

Jamethon waits for the door to be opened, and when it does the smells of tobacco and pine waft strongly into the house in a soothing almost intoxicating fashion. He steps in quickly, like asked, and glances about. When James' speaks his voice is muffled by the thick garment that is soaked in the oils that are giving off the strong scent that is smelled. "I was informed of your situation. All those who wish to be released from these demon fleas should sit in a circle in the middle of this room facing out from the middle."

John inclines his head gratefully, wasting no time in shifting back down to lupus, and following instructions. Not his arena, this. You lot! The circle! he barks, gruffly.

Bridge-Mender turns about in a circle, bumps at Lyra's legs with her forehead. Go and sit! Then she does herself, settled down on her haunches with her back to the circle.

Lyra blinks, looking very confused, but does as told. She closes her eyes, and blurs as she slips into lupus. She wriggles her entire body, a futile attempt to shake off the critters, and settles down next to Bridge-Mender, tail splayed out behind her.

Yi, no fool now, shifts down as well to leave room and takes up a spot beside the Walker lupe. Thank Gaia, maybe this will stop now. Her paw gives her shoulder another few swipes.

Jamethon looks over the group and grunts. "Ok, excellent. No. Please shift back to a form with a hands now."

The Walker Ahroun obeys quickly, eyes focused on space, and his jaw tight. Shifting to glabro - but otherwise not twitching - he holds his hands out slightly.

Three-Blades tilts an ear back, before complying and shifting back to near-man. The shift is a lot slower this time though, and the newmoon takes a very light grasp of John's hand. The gloved one.

Four-Leaves yips, as another flea decides to munch on her, but the yip is cut short as she shifts back to glabro, hunched over her knees and rubbing furiously at her ankle.

Bridge-Mender slips up to glabro, crosslegged now rather than set on her haunches. She glances at the others, takes up one of Yi's hands before she glances at Lyra, near her.

Lyra stops scratching and just looks at Bridge-Mender's hand, before it clicks. She takes the offered hand and looks to her other side, and takes the Ahroun's hand in her own. Well, rather the other way- his hand is much bigger.

Jamethon places the white bundle on the floor and unrolls it, revealing a bundle of willow sticks, a silver flash, some carvings of runes made from birch wood, and a bowl. After this is done he lifts a hand from his robe, holding a wicked blade. "All those who wish to be cleansed, must left of themselves some essense." With this he takes up the bowl, hands the knife first to John... who is the first to notice it is silver bladed. James then holds the bowl low before John, waiting.

There's a moment where the Walker Ahroun notices the silver - inspiring a flinch. But he frowns, and then moves to pick up the knife, releasing the hands of those beside him. Slowly, in a long-familiar motion, he drags the knife over his right wrist, letting blood seep out, and well below his wrist, before it drips into the bowl. He gives his wrist a squeeze, forcing more blood out, before letting up and handing the knife back.

Jamethon shakes his head, then tilts it over towards the one sitting to John's right. "Pass it along. I can not touch that which you have touched. Not until this is done."

John inclines his head in acknowledgement, and looks right - to Yi - handing her the knife.

Sepdet calls up from the intercom and, by someone or other, is let in. She looks a bit like a flasher in the trenchcoat she sheds on arrival, but her expression is not one to laugh at.

Yi curls a lip back, but takes the blade gently with the bowl. Without a sound, she presses the blade against her hand and cuts with a clean, single swipe. The Gnawer lets her blood run down into the bowl until only drops are left, and offers the ensemble to Anneka.

Lyra watches the process with big, big, big eyes. To the cub's credit, she doesn't say anything. But she doesn't look like she wants to touch the knife -at all-. She just might take the fleas instead.

Jamethon looks over to the door, and walks over to it holding the bowl still, not letting any of the 'infected' touch it, after Yi empties her hand in the bowl. He buzzes Sepdet in and she sees him wearing a thick rough brown cloth arabic style cloak that smells strongly of smoke and pine. He steps back over to Anneka now, waiting for her to take her turn at filling the bowl... which splashes around with crimson.

Sepdet takes in the ritual preparations at a glance and the ritemaster with a nod. Wordlessly, she unslings her waterskin and pours out a handful, stepping into the edge of the gathering.

Anneka unclasps her hands, draws her skinny arms out afore her before she takes knife up. The blade, sharp and silvery earns a shiver from the wiry girl. There's a small ritual to what she does. She glances at the cub near her, splays her hands out, then draws the blade out along it. It burns, one could imagine it burns like any horrid human wound, but she keeps her hand still, watches as the blood trails down in narrow lines to her wrist, her arm. She holds her hand over the bowl, watches as blood streams down to mingle with what's there, waits until the pace of the flow slows and stops. She looks to the cub again.

Jamethon glances at Anneka for a brief moment, "Hand the cub the blade." He then looks to Sepdet briefly and nods to the elder theurge. "I would appreciate some assistance in the cleansing Sepdet-Rhya. Soon, when I prepare it, the fleas will come in a black cloud to reclaim them... they will need assistance in rejecting their foulness." With these words he looks to a white cloth laid out on the flood near by, on it is a large bundle of willow sticks, rune tokens carved from birch wood, and a closed silver flask.

Anneka nods once, holds the grip of the blade out to Lyra.

Jamethon quickly notes to the cub. "Cut lightly and only across your palm, that is perhaps the most dangerous object you have ever touched in your life. Respect it."

Yi could think of a number of more dangerous objects, but doesn't volunteer those thoughts. Seeing Sepdet just makes the newmoon's pulse quicken briefly, as she manages a smile, restrained to respect the solemnity of the ritual.

Lyra makes a small sound in the back of her throat. Watching Anneka cut her wrist up close was a lot like Mala...No, she was /not/ going to think like that or she'd never do it. The cub lets go of the Ahroun's hand and shakily takes the knife from Anneka. She holds her other hand out, over the bowl- that hand's quivering too. She looks up at Jamethon and grimaces, as dangerous wasn't what she wanted to hear. Before she can think about it more, she draws the blade across her palm, inhaling sharply, and a red stream trickles to her wrist and drips into the bowl.

The Strider holds up her handful of water in answer. She says something in Egyptian, then translates it: "'The river is pure.'" She begins to circle the gathering, quietly sprinkling a boundary around it with a practiced motion. Unlike last time, Alec's entrance is more sedate, and calm. He does however look alot worse since the last arrival. Tired and weary he makes his way into the house. He's rather loaded down it seems, but after a few grunts and groans he makes his way fully into the lobby. Closing the door behind him he surveys the big W's.

Anneka doesn't need to smile. Her body speaks it when she sees Sepdet, though she remains still, her mouth drawn out in a line. She glances towards the cub, a turn of her eyes, warmth there now.

Jamethon seems reassured, though that is difficult to determine through the shroud covering his face. The circle completed he steps between Anneka and Lyra into the center of the circle, setting down the bowl. "Sepdet, would you kindly hand each of the four a willow stick, and give me the runes and the silver flask?"

John simply sits; Sepdet's entrance garners a look of expectation - almost eagerness, but he banks it. Questions can wait til later. For now... he just looks to the crimson line over his wrist, and then the expression on the cub's face.

Sepdet finishes her circle and joins him, taking the willow in her small hands and passing them to each, holding their eyes with her gaze. "The pure shoots of spring," she whispers. "Hold to this." Then she turns back and hands runes and the flask across to the Get.

The Gnawer cub's eyes sting with tears. Not that she cut herself on a daily basis, but that knife /burned/. She closes her cut hand in a tight fist, and thrusts the knife (handle tipped towards Jamethon) to the cloaked man, wanting it away from her as soon as possible.

Alec assumes his position.. away from the rite. He watches, but watches other things as well, the entrances, exits and other sundries. He knows what the story is and so forth. An eye for the knife and a raised eyebrow as lips remained pursed.

Anneka nods once, quick and sharp as she gathers the willow up, holds it clasped in her hands. She doesn't look to the door as it opens, sets her attention on the slender branch.

Yi grasps the willow stick in her enlarged hand, uttering a soft prayer in an eastern tongue. Those understanding could catch most of it as a supplication to the land, for a flow of healing to wash over the gathered and purify them with the earth and elements.

Jamethon accepts the tokens, "Thank you honored one. Cub, turn and place the knife in the bowl, then return to sit how you are now." Once the Gnawer cub has complied he continues. "Be prepared... that which curses your flesh will not leave willingly. Clutch tightly to nature's grace and hold it forth like a shield, protect yourself... for in the end no one else can. Are you all ready?"

Anneka nods twice, knuckles stirring as she grips the branch close.

John takes up the willow stick, accepting that its just part of the ritual and looking forward to getting it over and done with. Looking forward to killing off these damn fleas. He grunts assention to the Get theurge's question.

Sepdet begins to circle again, sprinkling the four as well. Her usual manner of this ritual is known to some-- she seems to have picked up some desert variant that prizes water over blood-- but for once, she murmurs her soothing, haunting chant in English, a subtle edge to the words this time. And some of the words definitely are different. "The water comes and goes, comes and goes a little, to the sand, from the sand. The river comes and goes. The waters rise, the waters fall. The good green shoots are cut down. The pure green shoots rise again."

Yi nods just once, eyes squinting to slits in anticipation.

Lyra nearly drops the knife outside of the bowl when she hears Chinese. She smiles a little, and the pain ebbs back a bit. After settling back into her spot, Lyra closes both hands around the willow, and nods.

With their agreement, James turns to Sepdet. "Please join me, standing in the circle wise one."

Sepdet finishes her second circle and steps to his side, recapping her waterskin.

Yi, sometime during this rite, promises herself that she will find some way to learn it. Gods, the itching...

Once Sepdet is safely inside the circle, Jamethon lets it begin. He opens the flask and a thick smoke starts pouring out from it. So thick that it falls once it is freed from containment instead of rising. It smells like a more concentrated version of whatever James' cloak is treated in, and is so thick before it disperses much it is already stinging the eyes of those sitting in the circle. When the black acrid fumes touch the liquid, the contents of the bowl start to sizzle. The second this happens from the floors and the bodies of the four a mass of black... hundreds and hundreds of tiny fleas suddenly are launched away like a grenade explosion. Before the perfect circle shockwave of black touches the ground however, it reverses direction and slams back towards the group. Where the water was sprinkled the fleas seem to hit an invisible barrier and build up around it, till the group is surrounded in a large column of writhing darkness. Once it builds halfway to the ceiling some of the tainted insects start to pour over. Slowly at first but gaining in speed. James shifts now to Crinos. ~Hold forth your shields! Trust in Gaia!~ He manages to howl out over the noise of of the thin column that is built up so thick buzzing of legs can actually be heard from the fleas now. It is a sound unnatural.

Anneka's eyes glitter as she holds the willow out to the twisting column, the fierce corrupted insects. "Mother's stronger than you are. Get." Her lips part, a thin sharp-toothed smile.

John simply sits straight, eyeing the insects with a cold - almost reflective - detachment.

Sepdet's chanting returns, redoubled; but her voice is oddly more gentle this time, a lullabye in the face of a tornado, mocking its impotent cacauphony with sheer untroubled assurance. Howl all you want, her song seems to say. You have no power over us. You are only fleas, after all.

As much as a movie effect this may seem to her, Yi holds up that small stick with a definite growl issuing forth from her. ~Come on then,~ she challenges, willing the willow like some invisible shield the earth will provide against the swarm.

Well, Alec's a little wide eyed at this. But just a little. So many of the little buggers, revulsion and a more than a small bit of flight instinct rears its head. Hopefully they don't decide that they want an unprotected snack. But aside from the reflexive itching, he's been left alone by the little blighters. But... so many.

Lyra chokes down a scream, more startled by the sudden buzzing black cloud than actually afraid, scooching back an inch as the fleas leap from her and then try to return. ~Oh no, no more Lyra buffet.~ She takes her stick, jabbing and swinging it in the angry horde of insects. ~Come back and I'll squish you.~

The cloud continues to circle and dance like a miasma over their heads, thousands of tiny black bodies darting and hopping, trying to find some way back into the chinks of the invisible circle defined by blood and water. The willow wands seem to cut swaths of clean air through them. Eventually a stasis seems to have been found: the fleas do not dissipate, but come no closer, forming an appalling screen overhead. That's when Jamethon casts each of the runes up in the air with a flip of his hand, speaking their names in turn. "Purity. Sanctity. Healing. Gaia."

Any foolishness Yi may have felt is now dissolving quickly with confidence and trust in that little green stick and the ritemasters' actions. Still, eyes narrowed and huddled somewhat defensively, the newmoon Gnawer continues to bare sharpened teeth at the black cloud opposing. ~I hope you all burn in the void,~ she growls.

As "Gaia" soars into the midst of the column, it collapses in upon itself, thousand of tiny bright sparks signalling a myriad of explosions as the fleas wink out of existence. Some at the perimeter appear to shrink back from the runes and scatter in all directions, but in a few moments, there are no more are to be seen, and the dreadful buzzing fades away to blessed silence.

"Gaia," Anneka echoes, simply, her voice sharp and clear. Her eyes are bright, thoroughly lupine as she watches the swarm dwindle, fade, gone.

John continues to watch dispassionately as the menace is removed from the handful sitting within the circle. And he's the first to stir, lifting his hand to touch it over the bloodied wrist. "There are more of us yet to be cleansed," he says softly and lowly. The only indicator of an emotional response to the Ritual. "The infestation spread further than us." He looks to the new arrival, as if for the first time. And then to Jamethon - seeking confirmation for a return to mobility.

The Gnawer Cub's amber eyes sparkle as the cloud explodes like millions of tiny sparklers. She's stunned by the wonderful feeling of what she just witnessed, and the fact she's no longer itching. Lyra shakes her willow stick at the departed curse of bug. ~And don't come back!~ she yips, head high.

Anneka draws a hand through her curly hair, glances over at the cub. She grins, quick and bright.

Jamethon seems fixed on the air, listening for a moment. Then he nods slightly. "It is done," the Get rumbles.

Yi just rubs her arm with her left hand, now conscious of all the blood that seeped onto the willow stick she was clutching. "Where should we keep ourselves, until the others can be rid of this?" she queries the ahroun Walker in a much too low version of her regular voice.

Lyra eeps, bringing her hand over her mouth. That had been louder than intended- without the fleas, things were very quiet. She peeks at Anneka over her hand, eyes still smiling.

"Gnawers're getting to th'junkyard," Anneka says, her own voice quiet as well. "There I think for us, 'less there's fleas there too." She doesn't move nearer to the cub, but there's the sense perhaps that she's leaning a little towards her.

Sepdet sniffs the air, testing to be sure. She mouths a "well done," to Jamethon, and leaves him in peace to gather bowls, knife, and the trappings of ritual.

John rises, shifting down from Glabro, and regarding Yi. "Away from the safehouse, at any rate, til they are done here. There is patrolling to be done that will not necessitate contact with others. We can take the cub someplace free of it. Several kin have offered apartment space in response to my requests." To Anneka, he adds pointedly, "The Junkyard is most probably home to at least a few other contaminated garou."

Elan, at the front doors, has made his appearance known and requested entrance to the dwelling of another; he's got whatever credentials John has said to show, so now he waits to be cleared by whatever security remains.

Anneka glances over to the Ahroun. "'less there's fleas there," she says again. "It's not good to go 'til we find out." She glances over at the monitor, the fellow mirrored there.

"Eh, John, Elan is here, you want I should let him in oui?" Alec pipes up for the first time since he arrived.

John looks over to the kin doctor. "These days, Alec, anyone who's family is allowed in. Please do so."

Lyra looks towards the basement door. "Aiyana and Renee- I slept down there. Would they have fleas too?"

"Yeah, and a lot of other people too," Anneka says, quiet.

Yi nods once, standing up and shifting rather slowly down to her human self. "They probably do," she answers Lyra with a sympathetic glance downstairs. "But better that we don't have to undergo it again." The Gnawer picks up her jacket from the floor nearby, looking rather cautious about the clothing until she's sure that there isn't any biting residue on it before slipping it on.

Opening up the door Alec ushers in the Gnawer Fostern with a wave and a grim but glad look. "Glad I am to see you oui." He reaches to give Elan's shoulder a squeeze. "I did no plan to see the flea death."

Elan walks in, his ritual bag held in one hand. He grins at Alec. "I do not blame you, not at all." He looks around at the remains of the ritual prep, and the people standing about. "Well, how have things been? Who's still itchy?"

Sepdet says quietly, "I will go downstairs and make sure they aren't tainted before I leave." She looks at John. "Which should be soon. I have a watch to keep. But the sept must also be together."

Anneka stands as well, slips over to her coat bundled up in the corner and wriggles her way into the giant thing. Something clunks in one of her pockets. The coat is clean for once, the stitches of mended scrapes and tears neat and even. She looks to Sepdet, though she's quiet for now, bumps Lyra a bit.

Yi glances once at Sepdet, before nodding in a sort of understanding of what she'd been implying. "I'll be upstairs if you need me." Her own implications being, she'll be playing Batgirl on the rooftops again. The CantoGnawer turns to Lyra and offers a smile. "You did great. Make sure you stay in a healing form to get that cut healed," she points out to the cub's hand, before slipping upstairs quietly.