1/24/2006

07:00 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (31% full).
It is currently 18:52 Pacific Time on Tue Jan 24 2006.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is foggy. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southeast at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.90 and falling, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind the house.
Contents:
Andrew
Obvious exits:
Hallway/Living Room  Back Door  

A low buzz of someone's voice grinding past skin and muscle works its way through the kitchen, punctuated by a harmonic 'beep' of the microwave. Sounds are followed by smells, as a cheesy, meaty scent floats languidly as the fog outside after it, rolling on into the hallway and bits of the living room. Kenneth, looks like, is making himself dinner.

Andrew makes his way down from the stairs, his hair slick and his shirt off, seeming to have just come from the shower. The nose knows best, making his way into the kitchen and sniffing, "Mmmmm....smells goood..." sorta zombie-like in voice.

Standing a few inches short of six feet tall, Andrew seems at first look to be a bit of the goth punk loner. He wears black denim jeans that flare near the ankles, and a pair of old beat-up shoes on his feet. His shirt is a navy blue solid in color, without any sort of corporate logo or name brand visible. Over that, is a black denim jacket with silver barbed wire patches hanging over it. Around his neck is a scar, one that looks like it was made by fire of some sort, and in the shape of a necklace. He has blue-green eyes and short black hair, sideburns and a bit of trimmed beard. His general posture seems to be one of being laid back, and there's often a black and green backpack not too far from the teen.

Kenneth turns round, what buzz passed off as a humming growl clipped off easy as sharp scissors to ribbon. "Mac 'n cheese," he elaborates without need for questions asked. "-Real- mac 'n cheese." The microwave door is opened, out of which pops a mug of milk. It's set on the smaller kitchen table, left to cool while the Shadow Lord puts on an oven mitt and goes to the appliance. The oven door opens, and out comes a casserole-type dish brimmed up with bubbling, light colored cheese crust atop it.

Andrew tilts, "Real? What makes the stuff from the box, with the powder real?" he asks, seeming a bit confused. He gives another sniff, "Smells good though. Enough for all? Or a meal for one?"

Kenneth doesn't answer, as the answer's obvious. The casserole dish is a family style. The pot that held the pasta, a big one. The Shadow Lord simply grabs a protective pot holder from the counter and slaps it on the table before setting the dish down. Then he goes about getting a large spatula-spoon, a plate and silverware - just one set. To which he sets and sits, spooning out a large portion of mac-n-cheese. It's also got ground beef and vegetables in it, apparently. "If you want to eat, then get a plate."

Andrew isn't one to wait about as he snags a plastic plate, one that he seems to favor as he holds it near the dish. "Yes Kenneth-Rhya, thank you Kenneth-Rhya." his tone a bit more submissive towards the shadow lord as food has entered the equation.

Kenneth grunts with a vague log, partaking of the food with a moment of silence given for the food before digging in. Man, the teen eats like he's in maximum security prison - all business and dedicated to the task at hand. Only once, briefly, does he lift his gaze to look at the other at the table.

Andrew gets his own food as he puts a nice glomp of it on his plate, and on the table. Moving to the fridge, he opens it up and gets some juice. "Thirsty for some Rhya?" he asks, getting at a glass, and pausing to see if he needs a second.

"No," Kenneth replies, "thanks." The milk cooling in his mug is still doing so, but he watches the cub's actions vaguely. The dinner continues from his part in silence - real mac and cheese cooling on the table seems to echo his sentiment but in a much merrier fashion.

Andrew nods his head as he returns to the table with his juice, sitting down as he quickly starts to dig in, ripping through the food at his own manic pace. Seems he is ethier hungry, or worried about something. Or, possibly, he just eats fast, with his head closer to the plate and all.

The back door slides open and an average sized girl walks in. A Bosten Red Sox baseball cap on her head is adjusted as she looks into the kitchen. "Hey." The greeting is singular in tone, but not unpleasant. Her eyes skim over Andrew, then land more solidly on Kenneth, "Haven't seen you in a while, how's it going Kenneth?"

"Goes fine," Kenneth replies without looking back towards the Get. "You?" Only after that question does he turn around, linking face to voice. "What's with the hat?"

Andrew dosn't comment, as he looks towards Emma for a moment, then goes back to eatting. His posture isn't that great, but things like that happen. Besides, between posture and good food, there can only be one.

Emma chuckles, looking at the Shadow Lord, "I like Boston?" She lifts the hat, and gives it a looking over. "Yup, Boston." Her steps take her to the fridge and she opens it up to rummage about. "Is Cole around? Been looking for him today." Then up goes her nose over the door edge, to allow her to peer at the kid with a nod, "Who's that?"

Kenneth shrugs lightly with a shoulder, still eating. "I haven't seen 'im," the halfmoon answers before glancing to where she points her gaze next. This he doesn't reply to, leaving the honor of introductions to the cub himself. "If you want some, grab a plate," he adds.

Andrew gives a look up, quick enough to move to fetch another plate for Emma. "My name is Andrew, Ground-Up, Coggie Ragabash Cub scout." he offers the plate, trying to serve his duties.

Morgan thumps down the stairs, easily audible before she actually appears. She's wearing her usual oversized raggedy coat, with the front pulled closed by her hands. Her hair is a mess fit to give a hairstylist a seizure.

"Cub scout?" Emma replies with an uncertain tone in her voice. She glances at Kenneth with a half shrug then nods to the plate, "Keep it. I'm on a non-processed cheese diet. Emma Mahler, Modi of the Get and Cliath." She pokes her nose back into the fridge and glances back up only to spy the metis with a rather bland look.

Kenneth doesn't shrug or get upset about the refusal. He keeps right on eating, up until at least the metis spies in. The Shadow Lord looks up and down the Fianna, stopping on the upswing at the very top. Chew. Swallow. Words are wetted with a sip or two of warm milk. "Bug, your elders ever tell you what a hairbrush is?"

Morgan blinks twice at Kenneth, and hunches her shoulders. "Is for brush hair," she states, matter-of-fact, as if she expects Kenneth should already know this.

Andrew looks over towards Morgan a moment, "Heya Morgan-Rhya." he offers, before getting back in his seat. "Right, scout, supposed to be on my best behavior Emma-Rhya." taking his fork and working on food.

Emma ohs quietly, "I see." She glances to the metis and Kenneth as they have a small discussion, then turns back to finding food. She comes out eventually with an apple and bites right into the skin. "What's going on at the farmhouse lately?"

Kenneth 'hns' with a tone that screams dubious. "You should ask for a refresher course," he says after another moment, gaze being yanked over when Andrew happens to call Morgan a 'rhya'. He narrows down his eyes, but remains silent on the issue. "Not much. Depends on how far back you need to know about going-ons," he replies to the ahroun.

Morgan likewise jerks her gaze toward Andrew at this, and her eyes bulge. Her mouth opens for a moment, then closes, then opens again. "...No," she says finally. "No, no. Is no 'rhya'."

Andrew dosn't seem to mind, he's paying more attention to his food. Water off a cub's back, right? He gives a shrug to Morgan, "Honestly, I don't mind Morgan-Rhya, but it's my punishment, not yours."

Emma is caught between conversations and drops the attention from Kenneth to gaze at Andrew, "Your punishment is to call a metis cub rhya?" She too seems dubious, and looks at the Lord once more in disbelief. "Apparently, a lot has gone on at the farmhouse. Whose ruling was that?"

"Is no 'rhya'," Morgan insists, far more firmly, more insistently than she usually is. "Is cub. Is metis. /No/ rhya." Her glance toward Emma and Kenneth is wary, almost frightened. "No call Rhya."

Kenneth waits, too, for explanation. Spotlighting his gaze on the ragabash, there seems to be a lot more to the Philodox's observations now than before.

Andrew rolls his eyes as he looks at his food. "Sorry 'hon, no can do." he looks to Emma a moment before he says "Punishment was to call /all/ Rhya, including /all/ cubs. For being stupid, and it was handed to me by my elder."

Emma huhs, "Yeah that's a bit off. Think about how it's gonna screw her up." A thumb is hooked toward Morgan. "That goes against all her training. All of any cubs training- and for that matter, the new Get cub that is here, will *not* be addressed Rhya. And that is *MY* order. I don't care what you have to do to avoid it, but I don't want a single -rhya tacked to the kids name. Got it?"

"/No -Rhya/," Morgan says furiously. "No."

Kenneth listens to the exchange, and then clears his throat. "Find another way to address the metis," he tells Andrew solidly. "And whoever it was who told you to title even the cubs 'rhya', tell them to speak with me. For -now-, don't do it. -Don't.-" His eyes pass warningly over at Bug as well as he sees her getting upset.

Andrew holds his hands up. "So, I'm supposed to disrespect my elders in favor of someone else? Isn't there a litany rule in there about obeying your elders?" he taps his chin a moment. "But fine, throw my training into the wind as well. I'll do as you please."

"Hey. All I said was don't you dare tack that on to my cub. If your elder has a problem with that, tell 'em to talk to me. Who was it, Alicia? I'm surprised she would say something like that." Emma seems to fight a bit of irritation off at this, eyeing the cub again as she waits for an anwer.

Morgan goes a little red-faced, but if there was anything more to come from the metis cub it fizzles before it shows itself. She hunches almost completely over and scurries back out of the room.

Abruptly pushing his chair back and banging his hand on the table, Kenneth glares fully upon the Child. "Elders stand before you Now! Are you questioning our honor? You sayin' we'd disrespect the territory of your teachers by 'throwing your training out the window?" He glares balefully, focused all upon the Coggie cub. "We're telling you to find a different way that sticks with the tradition of ranks And your training - if you can't even do that, -ragabash-, then you have no business being a model to your auspice."

[Long distance to the room: Kenneth yays, and gets a chance to use it. Aura of Confidence, everyone. :)
AURA OF CONFIDENCE (Level 1):
This gift conceals its user's weaknesses, making him seem more impressive to others and harder to cow or intimidate. When used it negates the effects of the Fatal Flaw gift; against other, stronger gifts, it works less well.
NATIVE TO: Shadow Lords]

Andrew shakes his head no. "It was Stacey-Rhya. But, I already know the way the not tack it to your cub, but follow the spirit of the punishment. There, rest assured, I won't spoil your cub one bit." he is a bit cowed by Kenneth, as he looks down to his food, and says "No Rhya. Sorry Rhya."

Emma startles slightly as Kenneth rises up into a roar. She grows instantly quiet as he bellows at the cub, remaining an interested bystander for her part now.

"Good," Kenneth snorts like a disgruntled bull. "Don't think I've forgotten about your -other- task either," he warns in a snaketail's rattle of a tone. "I'm sure Stacey had good reason to give you such a punishment, but you're takin' it up the ass like your brains are down there. Fuckin' think about what you say and what you do, for cryin' out loud, because you screwin' up will end up screwin' up others." He grabs his plate, now empty save for a few elbows of pasta, and dumps it unceremoniously into the sink. The milk is just dumped down the drain as well, not drunken. "I'm going for a walk," he announces just as suddenly, turning for the back door.

Andrew rolls his eyes a bit to that, as he pushes his plate away from him and leans back. He dosn't comment, but does watch Kenneth as he goes towards the back door, not stoping the cliath.

Emma looks over at the cub and lets out a quick snarl, "I would not roll your eyes at an elder /cub/. That's a good way to get them painted black and blue."

Kenneth pauses, hand on the door frame as Emma's words come out. The Shadow Lord's head turns, gaze going back over his shoulder. No more rebukes, though. From the stiffened way he moves as he slides open the door, steps out, and closes it, the philodox's control is reaching an edge once more. Out into the fog he goes, being swallowed up into the night.