It is currently 13:49 Pacific Time on Sun Jun 13 2004. Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (29% full). Cockroach Mansion -- Downstairs The heavy, dark opulence to this mansion known as Dominion is perfectly exemplified by the room vistors first enter, this front hall. Dark-stained wood serves as paneling on the walls, gleams with high gloss in the hardwood floor, and supports a semi-circular balcony in carved pillars. The heavy double doors, made of oak, open into the hall from the south, opposite the huge, hourglass-shaped staircase composed of red and black gneiss which soars up to the balcony; both are fenced in with a wooden railing of simple spiraled posts. Several doorways can be made out on the second floor, nearly blending in discreetly with the back wall. The wall to the left of the front doors is composed entirely of windows which run from the forty-foot-tall domed dark wood ceiling to the floor; if drawn, the heavy velvet drapes of deep red would completely mask them from view, but when parted, as they often are, one has a marvelous view of the grounds outside. A doorway to the right of the front doors leads to a parlor, and towards the back are the kitchens, the large dining room, and an office with an adjoining bedroom suite. Emily has not been especially comfortable the entire weekend. She was coaxed back into the house, even managed to make it up the stairs without overly shaking but she has not been /comfortable/. No, instead, she has been edgy and focused, immersed so heavily into nursing and medical journals and texts that seem to magically appear from the trunk of her car that it is sometimes difficult to talk to her. That's what she is up to now, curled up in the living room with a large text open on her lap, paging through it with a look of concentration on her face. Thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. With irregular steps and the click of toenails on polished wood, Chaney makes her way down the stairs, preceding Natalie. Upon reaching the bottom, the lupus starts trotting off in a random direction, her nose lowered to sniff. Natalie leads the cub from behind, her coaxing trailing off as Chaney gains confidence on the stairs. "Chaney!" she calls sharply, pointing toward the parlor before heading that way herself. "I'm bringing Chaney," she calls calmly for Emily's benefit as she heads for her chair. Thomas, should he ever return, is gonna have to find himself a new chair to park his butt. Emily had noticed Chaney. Boy, had she noticed Chaney. The woman has frozen, her eyes locked on the text of her book so hard that she probably isn't reading a word. "I see." That neutral and the only thing about her that doesn't scream 'I'm scared'. Her voice is calm and quiet. Chaney looks up sharply at sound of her name, her ears perking. She pauses for a moment as if thinking about whether she wants to come. But, then, obediently, she trots over toward Natalie and begins sniffing around the parlor, ignoring Emily for the moment. "You've got to get used to her, and she's got to get used to you." Nat makes it sound all so reasonable. "Plus she also needs to get used to spending time in homid besides just using it to open doors. Clever girl," she adds approvingly to the busy cub. "I understand that." Emily sounds perfectly reasonable, even if she looks miserable. "And I agree. I just feel at a loss in how to deal with it. Does she understand that we're family, at least? Or is she not prepared for that lesson yet?" (The parlor) This room is a palette of whitewash and wood tones, a cross between a library and an adult's recreation room. To the right of the door way, tall windows with a deep-set seat and heavy earth-brown velvet drapes show a view of the front lawn. The far and left hand walls are inset with wooden bookshelves just over man-height tall; the collection of books is varied, with both fiction and non-fiction. The floor is well-carpeted in a light tan color, and the furnishings -- an old but nice-looking couch plus several armchairs and small tables -- match the decor. One side of the room boasts a fairly impressive-looking entertainment center, complete with high-definition television. An open doorway leads west out into the front hall. Chaney doesn't react to Natalie's praise. Her inspection of the room takes her toward the couch, and she springs up onto it as if she owned it. Natalie only shrugs. "I haven't talked to her about it. Training a lupus is... well. I've never done it before. You'll have to bear with me." She eyes Chaney's leap, then shifts without another word or even a hint of warning. Natalie contorts and blurs as she is transformed. Natalie stretches as she changes, finally settling into Lupus. "Well." Emily slowly raises her eyes from her text to her companions in the room. "Um. Hi Chaney?" She takes care -not- to meet the young lupus' eyes. Chaney looks up at her name and stares over at Emily for a second, then continues her inspection of the couch. Her attention's caught by a spring going 'squeak' under her paws and she starts nosing about at that spot avidly. Holds-the-Line hops off her chair and trots right on over to the vicious squeaking couch. That limp of hers is finally gone, thank god, and all the other injuries entirely healed. Many-Faces. I brought you here so you could learn. You will pay attention to me. On the small side for an adult, this beige female wolf probably doesn't tip the 100 pound mark. Unlike many wolves she doesn't sport a darker mask around her eyes; instead a scattering of darker brown hairs fleck her entire body. Frequent small scars suggest she is the survivor of plenty of fights. She isn't as long-legged as other wolves, her build more like a brick than a gazelle, hinting at stamina in addition to speed. Her eyes are not a typical wolven gold, but more of a pumpkin-orange. Emily can't help a certain fascination at the cub's actions. "I don't forget that she could rip my face off if she wants to but its still interesting to see her fascinated by mundane things." Not that Emily doesn't scoot as far away as she can in the chair. There are limits, after all. Chaney pauses, looking over at the other Garou. Then the couch. Then Natalie again. Rat, she tells the older Garou excitedly. Rat, rat, hear rat? Rat! Not rat, the Galliard returns firmly. -Not rat-. Holds-the-Line knows. But if Many-Faces listens and learns well, she will get more sticky-yummy. She cocks her head, considering Emily out of the corner of one eye, then pads over to plop next to the kin. This is Hair-of-Gold, Many-Faces. She helps with hurts. Emily has no idea what's being said. So she has decided to put a great deal of faith in Natalie and her handling of the situation. She sits there quietly, smiling and doing her best to seem non-threatening. Chaney remains standing on the couch, blue eyes tracking Holds toward Emily. Then she jumps down and pads over to give the kin a thorough sniffing, starting with shoes and working upwards. Holds-the-Line pages to the room: What we need here is that Japanese 'dog translator' for Emily. Or another Garou who can translate! Holds-the-Line remains calm for Emily's sake as well as Chaney's, trying to show the kin through body language that this is Perfectly OK(tm). Emily may well reek of fear and a sudden cold sweat. But to her credit (and wisdom), she doesn't move a muscle as Chaney starts to sniff at her. Chaney's tail lifts and curls as the wet nose (on the end of a muzzle filled with sharp fangs) works its way up Emily's leg. Then, abruptly, she leaps up to plant front paws into Emily's lap, a move which gives her access to the kin-woman's face. Holds-the-Line flashes back into breed form - poor Emily - to murmur a sotto-voice, "She's just sniffing you, Emily. Just close your eyes and let her. I won't let her hurt you." Emily does not scream but it takes every ounce of willpower in her slim little body to keep from doing so. She does just as Natalie suggests, her eyes closing tightly as she sits there stiffly. Chaney's toenails dig into the kin's thighs as the cub sniffs wetly around her face. It probably seems like an eternity before the lupus is satisfied and jumps down again. She shakes herself, sniffs Emily's left shoe, then starts back toward the couch. Nat offers a last, low-voiced, "In a few minutes, would you please go into the kitchen and get that jar of peanut butter and a butter knife? -Thanks," before shifting back to lupus to chuff after the cub. Many-Faces. Do you remember how you opened the wall? Chaney has to tear herself away from the fascinating squeaking couch, but she does. Make hands, she tells Natalie. Turn ball. Like you. Emily needs a few minutes just to stop shaking. As Chaney continues her explorations, Emily exhales sharply and slowly opens her eyes. The woman runs a hand over her face and slowly rises to her feet, heading back toward the kitchen at a nice, slow, sedate, no-temptation-for-chasing way. When she returns, she has a jar of peanut butter open in her hands and a butter knife tucked under her arm. Emily leaves the peanut butter and knife on a discreet corner of the coffee table then plucks up the book and makes her careful escape upstairs. Holds-the-Line lets her tongue loll out, pleased. Yes. Very good. Can you make hands again? Chaney wags her curled-up tail and lolls her tongue in confirmation. Do so, the Galliard instructs. Then I will begin to show you how the two-legs talk to each other. Her ears flick back at Emily's exit, but quickly back to the cub. Chaney crouches down slightly, her tongue still hanging out of her mouth. After a few moments, her body twists and contorts its way up through Crinos and then down again into Homid; she keeps the same pose for a moment before sitting back on her rump. Her jaw hangs slack, tongue slightly poking out; otherwise, she appears expressionless. Chaney is a tall girl, near six feet tall and, it seems, all arms and legs; she looks like a shoe-in for the high school girls' basketball team. She's pale-skinned, liberally freckled, and sports a thick mass of dark auburn hair that doesn't appear to have seen a brush or a pair of scissors in years. Behind that tangle lurk wide, often confused blue eyes and attractively youthful features -- straight nose, high cheekbones, a narrow chin and full lips. At a guess, she's in her late teens. Chaney is currently stark naked and seems to have freckles everywhere. Her hair color is, apparantly, quite natural. Natalie quickly follows suit, though she stands and holds out a hand for the girl to grab onto. "Good. Now you have to stand. Stand, Chaney. Stand up." Chaney cocks her head to one side, her tongue vanishing back into her now-closed mouth. She leans forward, still sitting, and tries to sniff at Natalie's hand. Natalie crouches to grab at Chaney's hands, then pulls her gently upright. "Stand up, Chaney. Stand up." She doesn't let go of the girl's hands, instead holding them firmly to help keep the girl upright now that she's suddenly overbalancing on two paws. That the lupus cub is wobbly is an understatement. With Natalie's help, she stands for a moment, balancing on the balls of her feet, and then falls forward onto the Galliard. Natalie whoops and steps forward to gather the girl's weight. "There you go. Good girl, Chaney. Now we're going to walk. Smell that peanut butter? We're going to walk over there." She doesn't immediately move for it, though, but waits until the cub is more or less stable. Chaney makes unhappy whimpering noises in the back of her throat, fingers clutching more or less automatically at Nat's shirt. Her knees bend; she tries to lower herself back down to the stability of the floor. Natalie's not going to let her do that; an arm slips under the girl's armpit to hold her upright even as she shifts weight to get a hip under Chaney's center of balance. "Oh no you don't. Come on, Chaney - walk with me, and I'll give you some peanut butter." Her voice lightens to where it's almost painfully happy. "Walk, Chaney? Walk?" Nat's an inch or two over average height for a woman, perhaps five-seven or -eight. She's built rather reminscent of a brick, with a square face and jaw, and broad shoulders that have no need of padding. Nondescript brownish hair is only a few inches long, and the ten-dollar cut makes her face look even wider. Blue-green eyes are widely set under a pair of thickly stroked eyebrows; her nose and lips are proportionately large. She wouldn't catch any eyes if it weren't for the eerie way she has of staring, or the suggestion of prior and pending fist-fights in the small scars pocked across her face and hands. Her accent is flat Midwestern unobtrusive, her age roughly twenty. Someone else must have done her shopping, for Nat's sporting a surprisingly trendy Hawaiian shirt. The dark blue background of the short-sleeved button-down is broken by paler blue stripes of large tropical flowers down the center of the shirt as well as the outer edges. The shirt hangs open, revealing a white tank top tucked into faded blue carpenter jeans. The bottom hem falls over the edge of a pair of new-looking white sneakers. Chaney clings to the slightly shorter Glass Walker in a way that could possibly throw off both their balances. She stares blankly at Natalie. Natalie erks as she tries to nudge Chaney's legs into a better semblance of 'vertical'. "Y'know, Chaney, I really love dancing with you, but... gak. Ok, there we go." A few moment's wrestling and she's managed to get the lupus more or less steady. With both forearms firmly under Chaney's arms and hands solidly on her back, she waits half a heartbeat longer before taking a short step backwards. "Walk." Chaney doesn't move her feet at first and Nat's step backwards pulls the cub into a lean. She panics a bit, struggling, but in the processes takes her first step... as much by accident as anything. Natalie immediately stops to let the cub regain her balance with another cheerful, "Good!" Once she judges Chaney is 'safe', however, she does it again and takes another step back. Sadistic bitch. Chaney tries to pull back, but Natalie's got too firm a grip on her, and again she steps forward -- shuffles, really, one foot then the other -- in order to keep herself from falling. Her eyes roll around in her head, unhappily, and her whole body is tense. Natalie continues on like this, gradually leading Chaney back to the peanut butter and being as encouraging as she can. "Good walk, Chaney... and here we are." She transfers the cub's grasp of her shirt to where she can bend for the peanut butter, then puts a glob of it onto the knife and holds it up for Chaney to lick. Chaney looks interested as soon as she notices the peanut butter. She cranes her neck, sniffing at the glob on the knife before starting to lick at it. Natalie lets her indulge for a few minutes before - cruelly - removing the knife and jabbing it into the jar. "Right-o. So. Let's walk, Chaney. Walk." And away they go again, the halt leading the blind - or something. Around the couch this time. Chaney, under Natalie's guidance and with Natalie's help, shuffle-staggers around the couch. More peanut-butter: hooray! While Chaney's snarfing down the second helping of gooey brown stuff, Nat studies her. "Can you shift back down, Chaney? Chaney, make four paws. Be yourself." Chaney looks at Natalie briefly before going back to licking the knife. She shows no sign of understanding anything Natalie says other than 'Chaney'. Long distance to the room: Chaney | "Blah blah blah Chaney? Chaney, blah blah. Blah blah." Natalie grunts and places the knife between her teeth like some sort of demented rose. Slowly - taking her time between each form - she shifts, hoping to lure the lupus that way. Chaney wastes no time in dropping back to the floor, and when Nat shifts, she does too -- flashing back to her birth form in the wink of an eye. Her curly tail wags as she makes a little darting lick-lunge for the peanut-butter knife. Holds-the-Line keeps the knife out of Chaney's reach with an awkward tilt of her head. No sticky yummy right now, Many Faces. I want you to make hands again. To shift. Then I want you to stand. If you do that I will let you have all of my sticky-yummy. Chaney whines beseechingly and prances at the smaller bitch, trying to lick at the peanut-butter knife again. Want want want. Holds-the-Line flashes a bit of fang and drops the knife deliberately between her forepaws. No. Many Faces wants, but Many Faces must shift. Must make hands. Then Many Faces must stand on two legs. -Then- I will let Many-Faces have this. Chaney lowers her tail and backs away a few steps before sitting down. Her ears are flattened as she shifts slowly back into human form and, for a moment, remains seated. Holds-the-Line is implacable - she watches the girl with ears pricked and bright eyes. Stand, Many Faces. Stand. Then you can have this. Chaney lifts her butt off the ground and standsm balancing awkwardly on fingers and toes. Holds-the-Line chuffs an encouraging Good! but remains still, watching. Up on two legs. Stand on two legs. Chaney's jaw goes slack; she breathes heavily through her mouth. Her legs flex and then straighten, but her hands remain on the floor. She wobbles there for a moment before sinking down again. She makes a whining noise. Good! Holds-the-Line nudges the knife toward the unhappy homid with one paw. Now you may eat. If you do it again, I will give you more. Chaney lolls her tongue out of her gaping mouth and, still in homid form, flops at the peanut-butter-covered knife on the floor. She ends up awkwardly sprawled, mostly lying down, and licking at it with her tongue. She makes no attempt to hold it with her hands, and has to scoot a bit to follow it as it gets pushed along the floor. Holds-the-Line, ever the soul of helpfulness, places her front paw on the knife's hilt for the cub. Hold it with your paw, Many Faces. Like this. Then it will not run from you. Chaney is nose to nose with Holds for a moment and even licks her muzzle once. She seems to understand the Alpha's suggestion -- it being common enough when there's a bone for chewing, after all. Slap goes one hand down on the knife, holding it firm to the floor as she finishes licking it clean. Holds-the-Line's all patience and light until the knife is clean, even going so far as to remove her paw from Chaney's 'prey' once the cub has a firm grip on it. Now stand again, Many Faces. Stand for more. On two paws this time. Do you want me to stand on two paws to help you? Chaney keeps licking the knife long after it's clean, looking up at Natalie only when the Galliard gets her attention. She tips her head a little at the question, but her expression is blank and she can't very well speak Wolf in this body. After a moment, she makes a low 'hruh hruh' noise in the back of her throat and sits back on her rump, hands on the floor. She seems to be thinking. And staring at the carpet. While Chaney considers Holds-the-Line plops her tush down on the floor. She asks again, do you want me to stand on two paws to help you? Or can you stand by yourself? Chaney, you see, is in homid form but plopped on the floor on her rump. She is staring at the carpet, her hands pressed against the floor. Holds-the-Line is in lupus, her rump on the floor as well. Emily is walking down the stairs, carefully and slowly, a small stack of what look to be medical journals in her hands. She seems a bit freaked but she's looked like that all weekend. Chaney has no way of answering Holds-the-Line, or at least doesn't seem able to think of one. She twists around, trying to sniff at herself and failing and then, after some awkward struggling, gets her feet flat on the floor and squats with her hands flat on the carpet. Then she takes up her hands, curling them close to her freckle-covered breasts. It's like performance art -- nude actress channels a squirrel. The door opens, and Marcus stalks inside. And then just stops dead, taking in the scene that greets him. "If you girls want me to turn around and come back in an hour, just say the word." He eventually quips. Marcus stands around 6' tall, with a proportionate build. There's some substance to him, and his shoulders are broad, but not enough to look out of place on a man of his height. His features have an Italian cast to them, which complements his similar complexion. Marcus' face is more angular than rounded, cheeks curving ever so slightly inwards as they move down towards his chin. Marcus has a strong forehead, brow jutting out like a clifface over his eyes. His small eyes are dark brown, set deep into his head and shaped rather like two small longbows. A short nose, almost perfectly straight save for a small curve at the very top, sits between his eyes and a prominent ridge marks the point where nose joins forehead. Marcus' hair is jet black, parted down the middle and slicked back on either side of the parting. Sideburns go just past the top of his slightly pointed ears, which are easily visible due to the way his hair outlines them rather than covering them. Marcus wears a crisp black shirt with a row of black buttons down the front and gold cufflinks in the shape of a half-moon. Over the shirt, which vanishes into a pair of equally crisp, and equally black trousers, the man wears a sharp, bespoke-tailored, black jacket. His black shoes are expensive-looking, and have been polished so that anyone who glances at them can see their face reflected therein. Emily can no longer looked freaked. She's too busy staring open mouthed into the living room, a slightly frantic giggle coming from her. A giggle which goes completely unnoticed by the Galliard as she flips back into her breed form ending up in a kneel. At Marcus' comment she quickly glances over her shoulder, offering the two a terse nod, then returns her attention to the cub. "Good! Good job, Chaney!" She retrieves the knife and dips it into the jar o' brown goodness, then holds it up, just over Chaney's head. Cruelty, thy name is Nat. Squirrel-Chaney cranes her face up for the treat, trying to reach at it. Then she gives a little jump -- lunging upwards and snapping at the knife. Marcus shakes his head, not moving from his position in front of the door. Emily meanders toward Marcus a bit, as that takes her /away/ from the cub. She seems at a loss for what to say so merely stands beside him, her magazines pressed to her chest. At least she's closed her mouth. Natalie gets up onto one knee as she holds the knife, not moving it away from the jumping Chaney but not making it easy for her either. "Stand up," she continues to encourage. "Stand up, Chaney. No jumping. Stand up." The front door clicks open, then closed again, as Joshua, looking a hell of a lot better than when he crawled out, slides in. His eyes pretty much focus on doorway to the Parlour, since that's where all the people are at, Josh's brow scrunching up as he does. Chaney, however, lunges upwards again, trying to grab the so-close-yet-so-far object with her teeth. Marcus turns to see Joshua enter, and his face turns to stone. His eyes however burn with an icy hatred. Emily is largely ignored, as are the two other girls. All his attention is now on the newcomer. Emily half-turns when the door opens. So only Joshua gets to see the color drain from her face. "Um." Her eyes dart from Marcus and back into the living room. "Not the best time, perhaps, Josh?" "A little help, here?" Nat calls from the parlor, stretching out an arm during one of Chaney's upward arcs to catch the girl and give her a boost upright. Assuming that works she'll stand in a sudden rush, carrying Chaney with her and finally - finally! - giving the girl access to the peanut butter. Chaney grabs the knife with her teeth -- success! -- and then her knees buckle, and Natalie's left to either a) hold up all the cub's weight, b) let her drop and collapse on the floor, or c) go down with her. Despite the death and doom Marcus was shooting him, Josh looks uncommonly upbeat and chipper. Almost smiling, even. "Why?" He asks evenly to the Kin. "What is the matter?" "Could it be the fact that you turned traitor to your Family, then waltz back in with a smile on your face?" Marcus growls. Subtle he isn't. "Or perhaps it's the fact that /we/" The we is said in such a way as to exclude Joshua. "have a new cub, a lupus, and things are difficult right now as you can imagine." Emily doesn't want to say 'Because they all hate you' but that's only because she tends to be nice. Scratching at her temple, she glances from Josh to the parlour once more. "Um. We're worrying about a new cub." She says it in a much nicer way than Marcus though. Natalie goes with option A, because she's a sucker like that. She drops her hold on the knife to grab Chaney's middle with both arms, a leg darting out to support their new combined weight. "Oh hell... who's that? If it's Jeremy, tell him it had better be damn important or next time I'll /encourage/ her." Chaney leans against the slightly shorter Garou, her teeth bared around the peanut-butter slathered knife, and only now does she seem to notice the new arrivals. She twists her head around, craning it to take a look, her blue eyes bright behind the tangle of unkempt auburn hair. Joshua snorts flatly at Marcus's remarks, but remains pretty darn perked. "... Uh, actually, no. I... cannot exactly imagine." "Fair enough, not your problem anyway." Marcus replies frostily, before turning away from Joshua. "It's Joshua." He calls out to Natalie. "He was just leaving." Hint. Hint. Emily doesn't dismiss Joshua outright. She gives him a worried sort of smile and offers, "You look a lot better. Especially compared to last time." But that's as friendly as she gets at this point. "Hold it with your paw, Chaney," Natalie says, reaching down to grab one of Chaney's hands and lift it up to the knife. Then she tosses over her shoulder, "If he can be polite, let him in. ...Like that, Chaney, yes. Good girl. --Cripes, Emily, we have to get her toys, or something." Chaney is distracted away from the strangers by Natalie wrapping her hand around the knife. She releases it from her mouth and sniffs at it curiously, keeping her hand closed around the tool. Her other hand paws absently at Natalie's chest. "Why would I leave?" Josh seems to get confused real quick, offering a half 'thank you' to Emily, a crane of the neck as he gets closer to see the new cub, and a brow furrow as he tries to puzzle Marcus' statement out. "I, uh, just got home?" "Right." Marcus replies to Natalie, turning to face Josh again. "Think you're up to being polite?" Then he sneers. "Home? I thought you were living under a bush now, smoking peyote and drinking firewater with your casino manager buddies?" Emily gets distracted by her name, looking toward the parlour. "I've seen them use toddler and infant toys for hand-eye coordination in rehab after a bad accident. That the sort you are thinking of?" Her voice is calm and collected now that she's thinking about business. Marcus' words cause her to close her eyes and grimace faintly. Natalie allows the pawing - someone tell Jeremy! - in order to keep Chaney's attention on her knife hand. "Goood job, Chaney. You're holding the knife. That's it." Though she'd dearly love to turn - judging from the glances she keeps shooting over her shoulder - she doesn't, instead bowing to the knowledge that Chaney has a firm grasp on gravity even if she doesn't have a firm grasp on the knife. Chaney is indeed holding the knife, and she's figured out how to bring it to her face so she can lick the peanut-butter off it, too. This keeps her attention quite thoroughly engaged while the drama goes on with her tribemates. Tick tick tick. You can see the vein in Josh's forehead pop out all nice like, throbbing like a old geezer five times his age. Thank Luna for small moons. "I was healing." Tick tick tick. "I am going to have to ask you to go down stairs with me to the basement. Marcus Bends the Rules While Smiling DeFalco." "Personally, I'd like to invite you to go to hell." Marcus smiles cheerily. "But it can't hurt to put you in your place first, I suppose. After you." And the Philodox gestures in the direction of the basement. The magazines crinkle in Emily's hands and she looks around. Two angry men on one side of her, Natalie and the crazy lupus pup on the other. She just can't win. For some reason, this appears to piss the Kin off. "Fine. I'll go get my supplies ready." Joshua clumps down the hall, boots even on the floor as he paces to the stairs. You can tell he just wants to whip around and rip Marcus' head off, but that whole self control thing gets in the way for once in a rare while. "You cannot challenge the leader in times of war," Natalie snaps out, gingerly shuffling herself and Chaney around so she can at least look at the door without twisting her head to hell and back. "And Joshua, like it or not, we're at war right now, and Marcus is leading us in it. So shove it. Emily..." She makes a decided effort to get her own temper under control, "What supplies are those?" She's not a happy camper right now, her attention split between the pissing contest, the cub, and the kin. Marcus, once Natalie speaks up, dosn't follow Joshua. He's really interested to see how this will go down with the other Walker. Chaney makes an inarticulate noise in the back of the throat, Natalie's shuffling distracting her from the knife, which is nearly clean anyway. Only now does the wolf in human skin seem to notice the tension in the room, and her lips and nose wrinkle up. "Whatever I need to get, Natalie." Emily shrugs. She leaves it vague, as if implying it could be medical or educational that she's sent for. Joshua stops, turning around sharply. Something else Natalie Said only further ticks him off. "... I thought you where taking charge of..." the question is cut off as fast as it is posed. "... fine. I will take issue... once we are done with that." Joshua jerks around again, heading around for the other stairs this time. The Tower stairs. Natalie likewise snarls as the uppity Ahroun heads for the stairs. She jerks her head at the other two, inviting them into the parlor. "...Emily, fine. Whatever. If you want to stay I could use you. Marcus - I'll need your help translating for Chaney. I'm gonna have her flip back to lupus." Emily glances down at her magazines and uncrinkles them, carefully smoothing at the paper as she nods. "If I can, great." As she enters the lounge, she steers wide of the cub and settles into a chair, placing the magazines at her feet. "Right." Marcus smiles at Joshua's back, before heading into the parlor. "Where does he get off thinking all is forgiven, anyway?" He mutters, before asking Natalie "So you want me to speak to her in lupus?" Chaney cranes her neck trying to peer at what Marcus and Natalie are doing, and she twists a bit in Natalie's grip, making gutteral protest noises. Natalie's quiet a moment while she gently lowers Chaney back to the ground. "...Please. Chaney, watch Marcus. Watch Marcus, Chaney." She frees a hand to point at the Philodox, then continues more conversationally, "Any ideas, either of you, of how to get her up to Walker speed as fast as possible? She needs to be comfortable in homid, and be able to speak English, too." "Start like you do with little kids. Just talk in English as much as possible and make sure to explain and translate as possible." Emily frowns, tapping her fingers against her leg. "No way to just do a sort of language dump in her head?" Marcus watches Chaney intently, making sure he has her attention before trying anything. "No idea." He replies to Natalie, biting back futher comment. Chaney sits down on her butt, legs stretched out in front of her in an unladylike way. She looks from Natalie to Marcus and back again, then falls to examining the knife in her hand, turning it over and around and, eventually, opening her fingers and letting it drop to the carpet between her legs. Natalie stands once Chaney's steady, though she stays close beside her cub. "Just go ahead and change, Marcus. Her attention span is... short. She's just a cub." She adds this last almost apologetically, then crouches to wave her hand in Chaney's face and point toward Marcus again. "Short attention span? You should sit her in front of the Noggin channel. Its all kids tv and really easy and simple stuff like Seasame Street and Blues Clues. I saw it once while babysitting for a friend. No commericals." Emily glances from one to another, tilting her head. "Perhaps you should try being more firm with her." Marcus suggests, by which he means violence. Then he concentrates and shifts down into lupus. Lithe and strong-limbed, this is clearly no domesticated dog but a wolf. Covered in mottled fur made up of a variety of browns from the really light brown that seems to be the base colour, to the dark reddish browns that break it up and everything in between, there's a strange, worrying, intelligence in his eyes that seems quite out of place in an animal so clearly born to be wild. Or any animal at all, for that matter. Chaney snaps at Natalie's waving hand, her teeth clicking impotently on thin air, then looks at Marcus, watching him become a wolf. Her head cocks. "Stuff it, Marcus," Nat invites politely, pointing more firmly at the now wolf. "Make four paws, Chaney. Four paws." She pushes gently at the girl's shoulder to encourage her. Chaney squirms a bit and twists around to lick Natalie's wrist. Well, I think it is a good idea. A wolf like thing to do. Remus looks up at Natalie. Because Marcus 'Lupus probably have fleas and other horrible diseases' DeFalco knows /all/ about to be a wolf. Emily's expression is the sort of horrified fascination that comes with listening to growls and the like. "Maybe some kids videos or dvds too?" Natalie tsks at him as she nudges Chaney's shoulder again. "/Talk/ to her." The 'you idiot' is left unspoken. "She's smart, Remus - she figured out how to shift /and/ use the doorknob on her own." "--Chaney, watch Marcus now. Change like Marcus." "Jesus, Marcus, she did. Scared the living crap out of Jeremy and I. But then, I left you the message." Emily's eyes narrow slightly as she says that. "And Jeremy should have left one too." Chaney looks over at Marcus and stares at him, blank-faced, for a moment. Then her mouth drops open, tongue lolling out as her body twists back into her birth form. Her tail wags. She's smart? You mean she knows how to sit and stay? Remus shakes his head somewhat, not even bothering to try and talk to Emily in this form. Focusing on Chaney, he growls. And is cut off from what he was about to tell the cub by her managing to shift. The Philodox seems more than a little taken aback. Natalie only smirks at him as Chaney shifts back. "Good girl, Chaney." She kneels beside the wolf, a hand reaching over her back to floofle the base of the cub's ears - assuming Chaney allows the dominance gesture, of course. "Introduce yourself to her. I've been calling Emily Hair-of Gold." "--So she knows what to call you," she adds in an apologetic aside to the kin. "Hair-of-Gold?" That seems to amuse Emily and she inspects her blonde locks, curling her feet under her. "I suppose it will work." Chaney tilts her muzzle up toward Natalie and licks at her jaw, tail lowered and wagging. I am Bends-The-Rules-While-Smiling. Remus tells the younger wolf, tilting his head on one side. It is easier to call me Remus. Natalie offers Emily a tight smile. "You can dye it if you have to. She's working off scent." She gently pushes Chaney's face away, turning her toward Marcus again. "Ask her her name, Marcus. I want to see if she associates it with herself, or just with me. It's 'Many Faces'." Emily leans forward, losing some of her earlier tension as she watches the interaction. "Its weird only understanding one side of things." Chaney, her tongue hanging out of her muzzle, turns to consider Remus. Her ears perk and her tail lifts, curling over her back. The tongue snaps back into her maw and she takes an experimental step forward, holding herself tall and looking right at him. Remus growls, well aware of what Chaney is trying to do. Then he brings one paw up to swipe at her nose, should that be necessary. What is your name, cub? Chaney fluffs up her hackles and, quick as a snake, snarls and snaps at Remus' paw. "Natalie," Emily says suddenly. "I've done a ton of baby showers lately and spent far too much time--" Her voice stops abruptly at the snap and when she starts again, she sounds more uneasy. "Anyway, I've shopped a lot. They have a lot of brain enhancer type toys, books and videos out there for babies. That the sort of thing that you're thinking of?" Natalie's awfully unconcerned about the flashing teeth that are mere feet from her face, but then again she would, wouldn't she? She turns from watching the two to focus on the kin. "...Um... probably? She needs to learn how things go together. You saw how fast she was to figure out that she could use her hand to hold things, though. So I'd try to get things for all ages. Some baby stuff, but toddler, too. Grade school. That sort of thing." Hackles going up in reply, Remus shifts up to Hispo. Then he growls at Chaney, displaying his teeth as much as possible. Back down. You are too young to beat me. This huge wolf could well be from hell itself. It's certainly far too big to be a modern-day creature, although it wouldn't look out of place in an exhibit of pre-historic times. Covered in mottled fur made up of a variety of browns from the really light brown that seems to be the base colour, to the dark reddish browns that break it up and everything in between, there's a strange, worrying, intelligence in his eyes that seems quite at odds with the razor sharp claws and fangs the creature boasts. Chaney bristles and snarls at Remus for a moment more, then wilts. Her ears sweep back, her tail lowers, and she opens her mouth to hang out her tongue and pant appeasingly. Emily leans as far back in her chair as is possible. She has /got/ to get more used to things. "Uh. I. Uh." It takes a moment for her to regroup, her jaw setting stubbornly. "So I'll anticipate that she'll progress fast and get things across the spectrum." Natalie murmurs, "Now that /that's/ taken care of... One of you remind me that we've got to check her out flip side in a couple of weeks? Cockroach didn't bother to give me an auspice." She nods approvingly to Emily even as one hand reaches up to rub the base of Chaney's ears. "Exactly. OK, Remus, quiz time for her. I want to make sure she knows who the four of us are." Snarling once more to drive his point home, Remus relaxes. His stare, focused on Chaney, is no less intense however. Who are those in this room? The question is asked with an air of 'you had better know this'. Chaney folds her haunches under her and sits down, close to Natalie; Remus' demeanor doesn't seem to encourage her to approach him. The lupus licks her nose, then sniffs at Natalie. Holds-Alpha. "That's what she's been calling me," Nat affirms. She gives the cub's chest a pat. Emily watches silently now, one arm wrapped about her legs. Nodding, Marcus gestures at Emily with his muzzle. And that one? The fact that Chaney isn't approaching seems to suit the Philodox just fine. Chaney gives the Philodox a strange look, one ear cocking askew. Then she gets up and trots over to Emily, sniffing at her feet. Hair. Emily does /not/ run screaming for the hills as the cub approaches. Someone give her a cookie. She offers a sickly looking smile and, wisely, does not move. Natalie remains kneeling where Chaney left her, though she watches the cub quite closely. "Gonna need more than that. Hair of Gold, remember." That is not her name. Marcus replies firmly, looking over to Natalie in acknowledgement. What is her name, cub? Chaney looks away from Emily, though doesn't move away from her. Hair? She looks over at Natalie in confusion and whines softly. Emily swallows slightly, keeping her eyes on the cub. Though she doesn't move, those who may be paying attention will see her knuckles whiten slightly. Natalie frowns faintly. "Hmm. Try Sun-Hair. She might not know about gold. Trying to be too tricksy." Sun-Hair. Her name is sun hair. Remus growls, pausing to let the cub digest this and try it out before asking the next question. Who am I? Emily is average-sized for a woman, neither tall nor short at an even five-five. Her frame is on the thin side, her build the sort expected on someone who lives on caffeine and adrenaline. Her hair is caught back in a simple pony-tail set high on her head, the long dark blonde length expertly streaked with pale highlights. Her face is oval in shape, the sort considered pretty by many, with dark brown eyes set below finely arched brows. Her nose is straight and proportional, placed just right above a mouth that seems to be on the verge of smiling most of the time while her chin is a touch strong. She gives off a delicate air, something about the fine bones of her face and the slender figure making her seem to be in her early twenties. She is wearing a pale green linen top, sleeveless and just long enough to skim her waist. The neckline dips into a deep vee, the empire seam lined with tiny gathers, which also appear at top of each shoulder. A pair of plainfront khaki capri start just below the waist, cut in a flattering manner. The hem touchs her leg at mid-calf. She wears a pair of brown leather sandals, cut so that her pink-polished toenails are visible. Chaney repeats, Sun-Hair, giving Emily another sniff and briefly grasping the edge of her khaki capris. She tugs it lightly, then pads back to Natalie. She seems further unwilling to approach Remus. Chaney repeats, Sun-Hair, giving Emily another sniff and briefly grasping the edge of her khaki capris. She tugs it lightly, then pads back to Natalie. She seems further unwilling to approach Remus. Nothing like hearing growling then having a wolf grab at your pants. Emily's gone pale again, sitting on her chair and watching the cub moving away from her where she is sitting. Remus sits in lupus a distance away from the homid Natalie, who is also seated. Natalie bares teeth at the cub and rolls up to her knees in order to be taller than the lanky cub. "Oh no you don't - what's his name, Chaney?" What is my name, cub? Remus snarls, clearly having decided he won't accept any nonesense. Which is more than a little unfair given Chaney;s situation, perhaps. Chaney flattens her ears and crouches down slightly, lips pulling back in an appeasment 'grin'. She doesn't answer. Natalie, being less than quick on the uptake, finally realizes, "Oh crap. If she doesn't have a word for 'gold', she's not going to know what the hell to do with 'Bends the Rules While Smiling', Remus. Um... Crap. Run her through it a couple of times. If I have to, I'll shift and show her." Why don't we stick with Remus to start with? The wolf suggests to Natalie, ignoring Chaney while the two senior Garou sort this out. Emily exhales long and hard. Carefully reaching down to pick up her magazines, she eases to a standing position. Why, yes, she is paranoid, why do you ask? "I'm going to go hit the store to get the goodies, OK? Before it closes." Natalie spares Emily a glance. "Sounds good, Emily. Thank you. If you could pick up... hmm, no never mind. Cockroach watch." A nod, and the kin's dropped from her attention like a hot potato. "Why don't you just do as I say, Remus? It will make things -so- much easier." I was merely suggesting something simpler. Remus replies, looking at Natalie. Then suddenly the wolf looks rather distracted. I was supposed to be doing some preperation for our friend's arrival. You will have to continue the lesson. And he vanishes away to whatever he needs to do. Natalie snorts at the two of them as they disappear, and pushes gently back against the wolf. "All right, none of that." The woman studies the wolf, then sighs. "You know, I've got no idea what the hell to do with you. I can't leave you alone or you'll chew everything to bits, and you scare the bejeezus out of Jeremy and Emily. You'll probably do the same to Rina. I wanna introduce Josh to a silver bullet, and Marcus right after. I'm the crappiest Alpha ever, but I damn well have to be one if I want to be able to -do- anything around here." Not, of course, that she expects Chaney to understand one word in twenty, but sometimes a girl's just gotta vent. Chaney looks up at Natalie, her blue eyes interested but blank, her ears cupped forward. She wags her tail and leans against the push, trying to lick the Galliard's face. Natalie laughs despite herself and shifts quickly through the forms so that Chaney's tongue ends up swiping against her own lupine muzzle. You did well, Many Faces. The male is Bends the Rules While Smiling. It is long, I know. Chaney blinks a bit and cocks her head a bit. Very long. Very strange. All of you. Very strange. Natalie can't disagree with that. Come - I have things to do. You must return to the den. No leaving it this time. Chaney whines softly in protest but lets Natalie lead her off into the den.