"Human Theurge"
(10/95)
Regan Avenue, 100 Block
l me
Sepdet(#3589Pce)
You see a lithe, 4'9 brownskinned street waif who tends to keep to out-of-the-way places, corners, shadows, as one who is accustomed to being ignored or unnoticed.She watches the world with wide dark eyes that have seen too much, yet face the world unafraid, lending her a dignity beyond her scant fourteen years.
Her mahogany complexion is slightly uneven on her hands, and the discerning nose will notice the faint odor of cosmetics, although she doesn't appear to be the well-dressed type. A battered old fedora crouches like a flopped basset hound over her shaved scalp. She is missing her two smallest fingers and two joints of her ring finger on her right hand. Her garb is haphazardly second-hand and probably in need of a wash.
Carrying:
TarotDeck
A young woman stands at the border of sidewalk and empty lot, still except for the full skirt and long, dark hair tangled by the stiff city wind. Her attention is directed toward the barren land, the refuse, and the scraps of windblown newspaper.
Sepdet takes the route back to her HQ slowly, slipping past the few people out at this time of night with a friendly nod to the less reputable-looking young folks, or skirting around others. She seems sadly at home in this desert of human making, just another child of the city. The only odd thing about her is the way she seems almost to prowl with each step, and to pause now and again to sniff the air.
The girl takes a slow, considered step into the abandoned lot, another; lit at first by the streetlamps, she moves through light toward shadow. One hand comes up to push the mass of her hair back from her face, and she leans forward slightly to peer into the dimness.
Cari pages: The move may be enough to catch your eye, since she's fairly brightly lit when she moves. And I imagine the hair and the feather make her recognizable.
Sepdet stops and pads quietly towards the abandoned lot and the stranger, her own head down and shadowed.
You paged Cari with 'Oooo yeah. Sepdet always remembers people she's tried to heal.'.
al
You wander into the abandoned lot.
Abandoned Lot
Wild weeds fill the otherwise empty lot. Hidden deep in the weeds are pieces of broken bottles, cigarette buts, crumpled newspapers and other assorted junk. Dusty, faded red brick slathered with graffiti surrounds the lot on three sides. The fourth side of the lot is open and asphalt can be seen.
To the north beyond the overgrown opening of the lot is Regan Avenue which runs east-west.
Contents:
Chloe
Obvious exits:
Regan Avenue
l chloe
Large, almond-shaped eyes, of a brown deep enough to glint black in most light, dominate the girl's sculpted features. The darkness of those eyes flashes against a pale-olive, unweathered complexion. High cheekbones and fine bone structure give her face a delicate beauty; masses of unruly black hair frame her expressions with chaos, untamed and usually-tangled waves falling past her shoulders to mid-back length. Though she can hardly be older than eighteen, the intuitive perception in her gaze gives her an odd wisdom, the look of one experienced beyond her scant years. She carries herself with the alluring grace of a dancer, but her movements hold a subtle tension like that of a wild or alien creature.
Gauzy, brightly colored fabric falls in wrinkles from the girl's waist nearly to her ankles. The full skirt wreaths her in color: bands of muted red, blue, white and black bear fantastical and elaborate designs in subtle contrast, bright flowers and paisleys that add green, cream, and paler reds and blues to the melange of colors. At the hem, the white ruffle of a petticoat flashes above tight-laced, high Victorian boots of black leather. A dark-red knit shirt, long-sleeved and cut to a low V in front, skims over understated curves. The neckline bares graceful clavicles and frames an eye-catching adornment: a large dodecahedron of clear quartz, suspended before the hollow of her throat, hanging from a band choker of black velvet.
A narrow braid, taken from behind her left ear, hangs over the young woman's shoulder; a long, opal-shimmering black feather hangs alongside it, tied in near the top with a scrap of leather.
Thena pages: What's up?
Long distance to Thena: Sepdet hugs. Investigating a mage. :)
Thena pages: Want DS to show up?
Long distance to Thena: Sepdet hms. Really, no. It's in my territory, and I've been trying to rendevous with Chloe since...gah. The Ice King battle.
Sepdet says softly, "Yo babe. This ain't really a place for th' likes of you, izzit?
Sepdet's murmur is less a challenge than a remark.
Chloe's eyes narrow slightly, but she neither starts nor looks toward the newcomer. "There's enough to be done here. It's a place that needs work." A trace of accent touches her voice.
Sepdet sighs and leans against the brick mournfully. "Yeah. We keep mosta the drugs out, but 's not th' same without Tox. She knew the city better. And I run. I know what to do under open sky; it's harder to know where to start, here."
One of Chloe's shoulder's lifts slightly. "I always start with the realm or the spirit. And work."
Sepdet drops her eyes. "Heya. Not so different from what I do, out where..." she waves a hand eastward. "It's a little easier." She catches her lip in her teeth, changing the subject abruptly. "Did Brian tell you...after the warehouse... that Maury was there?"
Chloe watches the shadows; a small flicker passes through her expression, quickly suppressed. "I knew."
Sepdet closes her eyes. "She didn't want to die, not yet; she and I still have so much work to do, trying t' keep our elders from each other's throats. But she knew it might happen." The small Strider gives a very human sigh. "I miss her too."
Cari pages: Have they ever met, by name?
You paged Cari with 'Chloe may have heard people call Sepdet's name at the battle that night when Maury died. Also, Sepdet talked to Winter Feathers a while the night of the Ice King battle when Chloe sent him to offer healing.'.
Chloe finally turns toward the stranger; her gaze falls on the younger girl's face with a sharp intensity, as if to see past surface to substance. "I don't know your name," she says quietly. A distance marks the black eyes, something akin to the masked look of grief, a half-pitched effort to conceal what lies within.
Sepdet's hand reaches for something at her throat. It misses and catches instead on the roughly-carved wooden ankh, stained by old blood. "Sepdet. Which means Hope." The girl smiles in faint irony.
Sepdet meets the mage's scrutiny with her own quiet gaze, half a challenge, half a greeting. "You helped us that night, when I lost Maury and my sister. You got us out and away quicker than a Strider could. You healed Toxic, a long time ago, when she was nearly killed in a Dancer fight. I remember. You offered t' heal, when the Ice King hurt some of my people." Her voice grows less gentle. "You stray close to places sacred to us. You got a knack for catchin' the eyes of Garou my age, an' getting 'm in trouble with Echen, who protects you more than the caern. You test our patience. You got half the Fianna thinkin' Brian's crazy, an' maybe the alpha of the caern too by now. You make enemies." She swallows. "You make friends, too. I've been wondering how and where to trust you."
The catalogue of good and ill etches a few more lines into Chloe's brow, touching her face with pain; she looks away but not downward, chin held straight, her posture stiff and almost prideful. "I do what I can, when I can." She turns the dark eyes on Sepdet once more, flashing now with adamant insistence. "I /will/ not be held responsible for actions and decisions not my own. If there are any who dispute /my/ actions, or my motivations, they are welcome to take the matter up with me." She pauses a moment, and both expression and voice lose the prideful edge. "I've tried to earn the trust of your people. I realized the naivete of that effort quite some time ago."
Sepdet shrugs. "You're running on the wrong side of th' road, against the flow. A hundred centuries. We've been betrayed and hurt and lost with humans too often, so that we have a Law that says we /can't/ trust you. Laws are easier than taking the risk of trust." The girl gives a faint imp's smile. "But Coyote knows to bend the rules when they're dumb. And a close cousin to Hope is trust-- letting one's hope in others go before one's own caution. I can afford to do that. I'm a goddamn seer, and if they want t' kick me out, I can go my own way. But they'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who does what I do for'm. So. You got your friend Brian. Goldeneyes, my friend Maury, she's gone. Toxic, my alpha, she's done. But Hope's still here. I'm not gonna let you waltz into the caern mind, and it's gonna be a time before I let you know what's goin' on, what my pack /really/ does. But I'll be watchin' you. And thinking about it. Your spirit smells all right."
Bemusement settles across the older girl's delicate features as she regards Sepdet. "You're braver than most," she observes, carefully holding the words to evenness. A touch of a smile curves her lips, softens the shielded look of her eyes. She looks away, musing. "I haven't spoken to Thorn in a long time, but he called me friend, once."
Sepdet chuckles. "Thorn-rh...Thorn-yuf's a good seer too; he looks carefully. Your Raven said that's what you are, or something like."
Chloe smiles a little, dropping her gaze to the toes of her boots. "I watch, and I try to do what I can." The dark eyes, guileless, candid, direct, lift again to Sepdet's face. "That's all."
Sepdet nods. "Yeah. That's what I've been seeing. I'll tell Alpha she can stop doin' the goddamn danger alarm over you and concentrate our attentions elsewhere." She sighs. "Not that she'll b'lieve me; she'll prolly put me on the Echen-list. I'm only a mule, for all I do."
Chloe shakes her head slightly. "Please don't lose anything over me--unless they are about to hunt me down, or something." Irony touches the words, and she is silent for a moment, thinking; then her eyes narrow. "The new Alpha -- is she another person who he will have trouble with, do you think? Not that you have to answer, but I am trying not to make things worse for him as happened with Fletcher." She does not quite conceal the rancor that the name brings.
Sepdet sighs. "She is honorable and as traditional as you will find. She is considering the other Fianna's worries about you. Chiefly, it is that you know more than a human should, and that makes Garou nervous, as well you know. Justice doesn't like it any more than the Fletcher did." Her face twitches slightly at the mention of Arjun's name; apparently it is not one that the Strider finds comforting. Yet she speaks her elder's names with carefully-cultivated respect, her street-accent slipping away from them. "What I most worry for is Brian. He has...gone very far from what he used to be. It is not my place to judge, and I would not presume to guess whether it is your influence or his own troubles. He speaks with claws, even when he speaks with words. He is an elder who commands authority now, but...as one who once considered him a friend...I do not see respect. He used to sing. He used to smile. He used to joke without hurting." The Strider speaks with unusual heat, then catches herself and drops her eyes. "I once trusted him. Now I obey him. You know him. Look....look after him?"
Thena pages: How's it going?
You paged Thena with 'It's great. Chloe's really cool.'.
Thena pages: How so?
You paged Thena with 'Oh, she's a dreamspeaker, a spiritualist, who has been trying to help the Garou protect Gaia--with them kicking and screaming--for years. Her social skills with male Garou are obviously nil, but she's got a good heart.'.
The shadow of worry grows darker and darker across Chloe's features as she listens. "I... didn't know it had gone so far... though I had doubts, after the last--after the last challenge. He--" She breaks off, and looks away to one side; the dim light of the street roughens the lines of her profile. "I don't know how to help him, sometimes, he is so torn. But..." She looks back to Sepdet, and her features clear into an openly pained expression. "I will always look after him. I will always try to help him." A hint of fervency adds force to the words. "We won't leave each other."
Sepdet sighs and slips her hands in her pockets. "I believe that. A while ago, he actually asked me for help. I told him he'd given up his voice for a piece of metal." She frowns. "A necessary, useful, and important piece of metal. But what he did was give up a piece of his passion for the sake of the battle. And we've lost the battle, fighting just with claws. /My/ people know that. If we give up our other strengths for it, we may be lost. The Wyrm's got claws. It's got weapons and destruction well-covered. It doesn't have songs. It doesn't have love. It doesn't have hope." She lifts her chin with faint pride, then adds cautiously, "Help him find a new way to play. He'll never make it, if he doesn't find a new voice for Mountain's song."
Chloe's throat tightens in a swallow. "He's searching," she murmurs distractedly. "I don't know if I /can/ help him. But I try, however I can."
Sepdet nods. "It's all we can do."
Sepdet draws back into herself visibly, abashed at her own outspokenness. "Um. If you do that, I'd owe you a lot of thanks. So'd Maury. She worried a lot. And the Fianna will be glad t'have a sane elder again." She seems suddenly less sure of herself. "Do that. Help keep things clean. Don't offer to help the caern, don't go too close, because they just can't accept you. It's asking Garou to go against instinct. But you're human; you can watch and look in human ways we can't. You're a healer. Healers find ways to fix things."
You paged Cari with 'Ack, it's late. I had a sudden ominous image of Sepdet taking her /idiotic/ hat off to say goodbye, and showing the faint line of a black spiral carved into her scalp.'.
Cari pages: If she HAS to. :) I'd rather let it wait.
Long distance to Cari: Sepdet would rather wait too, on the whole. I think I'm getting to be as weird as Sepdet. (She did have a spiral carved in her forehead. Involuntarily. She made Alex Windrunner cut it out.)
Sepdet sighs. "Thanks. An' I won't go near your temple either, or whatever it is you have." She smiles faintly. "Although Coyote's a little curious. I've seen you in action, I got some idea what you do, but I don't know much about your kind in general. But tha's your turf." She looks around. "And I think you're still welcome in ours. Toxic trusted you, which is maybe why I've had my eye on you so long."
Chloe looks away quickly, and takes a breath. "I'm... honored, to know that." Only a slight trembling in her voice betrays anything past the mild pain of her expression. She raises her eyes again, and her features soften further. "And... thank you. For withholding the judgment."
Sepdet touches a spot behind her ear, where her hair's just growing back, in an oddly formal gesture. "'f a Seer my size can't trust her nose, she's not much use t' anybody. Walk well, lady. I'll be keepin' an ear open for you."
Chloe nods, slowly, the gesture reserved. "Luna guide you." The words come softly, but distinctly, in something close to a whisper; having said them, she takes a few steps further into the dimness of the empty lot, toward the darkest shadows.
Sepdet reaches down with a grimace to snag the largest bit of junk dropped here, a yield sign riddled with bullet holes propped against the brick building and facing like a warning towards the heart of the city. She flips it over, in the process flashing its backside towards herself. For a split second her reflection is stark and clear: a black, angled figure of decidedly inhuman proportions, with jackal's ears but the eyes of a child. Then she hooks it under her arm, hiding the dangerous mirror, and trudges off towards the street.