---- Recall start ----

Cutter moves quickly to flick on a light, banishing the stygian blackness.

Arlen looks entirely uncomfortable in here, although not, one expects, as 
uncomfortable as Stormcloud.

There is no sky. No horizon. The air is stagnant in comparison. No. The Talon 
is definitely not comfy-cozy here, but he doesn't complain. Yet.

Arlen lets Cutter talk. His territory, after all.

You say "Okay. So now we find out who's raising hell on my turf, right? And... 
Why?"

Stormcloud settles back onto his haunches. It was in my way, he says, simply 
enough.

Cutter stares hard at Stormcloud. "Oh. Well, that settles it, then. Next time 
I'm up on Bald Hill and a few trees get in my way, I'll just remember that. 
Pendejo." His tone is new-moon smooth and calm.

From afar, Arlen thinks Arlen would understand that. I've got it on the tip of 
my tongue. It's vernacular for, basically, asshole, right?
You paged Arlen with 'Penis.'.
From afar, Arlen nods. That was the exact translation.

Stormcloud returns the cold stare. Trees belongs. Those things do not. Of 
course, the Talon seems to have no idea what a pendejo is.

Arlen snorts, obviously more than slightly disgusted. "They belong to this 
place. This place, especially, is one where the Veil must be kept, or had you 
forgotten that detail? You do not despoil like this, even after utter 
frustration. You know better, Talon."

You paged Arlen with 'And in the vernacular, Scud is a putz. (:'.

You say "And especially not when you're a fuckin' /guest/."

We watched the Veil. We caused no harm to the two-legs here. And this entire 
place was never meant to be. It is hard to understand why still its existance 
is suffered. Perhaps it is why the river is hungry. He gives himself a shake 
and looks around the place once more, notably away from the gaze of the others. 
Still, we trespassed. We are yours.

From afar, to the room, Arlen stays logged in towatch?
Long distance to Arlen: Cutter likes it when you watch. *hug*

Cutter visibly curbs his tongue. "If you wanna convince the sept t'come wipe 
out the city, that's fine. But not tonight. T'night we get you back 
t'Rangerland, however the hell you got here, an' say if you do it again we'll 
take action."

A twitch appears under Stormcloud's left eye for those who can see it. Then we 
shall tell the other as well.

Cutter nods. "Who was the other? Anybody we know?"

Stormcloud seems to be holding back, even considering the moon. 

Memory-of-Talons. This one made sure she did not cull, but we seperated.

Cutter nods. "So d'you want passage outta here, or you figger you're just fine 
on y'own?" He glances toward the door. "I'm offerin' t'help cuz I think it'd be 
a good idea."

Stormcloud, oddly enough, doesn't seem to have heard the question. He remains
staring at a wall for a few moments before speaking again. This place hangs 
over like a poisoned sky. We have been here before. Lead the party into the 
power station. Discover and explore its interior like we were told. Escape from 
death without a loss to the party. Yet it is a scar on me. Made into a foul act 
because it is not really what another wanted. We come here tonight and bleed 
for Gaia, and again we lose. How much do I (yes, he uses I) have left to give?

Cutter blinks in confusion. Twice. "Look. Whyn't we getcha into a nice forest, 
lotsa trees an' shit, an' you c'n talk like a knife moon there, okay?" His 
voice is very reassuring, like a mother or a social worker.

Stormcloud stands, pacing. The moon. How is the moon seen from a place like 
this? It is closed. Pent up inside. He shifts upward slowly to the warform, 
resettling on the ground as he does so, seemingly without care.

Cutter shows a hint of nervous tension. "Buhbie? You want help gettin' out 
t'the woods? Or d'you want me t'just open the door an' do a Born Free thing?"

Stormcloud starts tracing the outline of the red patch upon his chest, lightly 
at first, but soon pressing hard enough to draw blood. He continues to spek in 
the lupine manner. Pent up inside is the moon. Here in this Scab. Behind walls 
that we would keep. There is a brief pause. How have we been marked?

Cutter moves to the door and pops the lock. "Look. You are really starting 
t'freak me out. This whole Dennis Hopper act may be a hoot out there, but I 
think it's time t'go. Really."

Stormcloud falls silent, no longer carving into himself. His head tilts up to 
stare at the ceiling. and there he simply stops.

Cutter pulls the latch on the door and whistles insistently. "Hey boy. Walkies! 
Walkies! Come on!" His eyes are open wide in excitement and joy at this chance 
for a new expedition.

Stormcloud seems rooted and frozen. At least no response is given.

Cutter wilts. Then, in exasperation, he throws open the door and stalks up the 
stairs as he whips out his phone and starts to make a call. "God damn granola 
case nutbag rangers in my fuckin' living room..." he mutters.

Well, that yields a response. Stormcloud blinks as though waking up and peers 
about him, confused as to why he's in crinos and in unfamiliar surrounding. He 
tries to stand, but bangs his head on the ceiling. This is definitely not where 
he is expecting to be. The first signs of panick set in.

Halfway up the stairs is a place where he sits. "Hi. Yeah, I'm okay. I'm alive. 
Shit happened. Hello? Hello? Just... just go home, get some sleep. I'll talk 
t'ya later. Please?"

Stormcloud starts pacing again, looking for anything familiar, tension 
noticable in every part of him as perhaps some claustrophobic panick hits. Yet, 
when he hears the other speak, he stops and peers out the door, almost in 
relief.

Cutter sits curled on the dirty, garbage tainted stairs with the phone up to 
his ear. A hint of softness touches his expression. "I promise. Okay. Yeah, 
thanks a lot, hon."

Stormcloud disappears back inside for a moment and returns into view in lupus, 
looking still quite lost. He doesn't know what a phone is or does, so speaks 
anyway. Why are we here? And where?

Cutter folds up the phone. "We're at my den. Tryin' t'get you home before you 
do any more car tippin'. It's nearly sunrise so we better put a fuckin' move on 
it. Capice?" His voice is tired, but his expression is still daisy fresh.

Stormcloud only seems to understand every other word, but it's enough. We did 
what? He pokes out a little more, taking in a scent of air in doing so.

Cutter rolls his eyes. "Y'hopped ont'my turf an' raised hell. Now it's time 
t'get the fuck home. Goodbye, city life."

Stormcloud obviously is at a loss yet is aware, by the tone, that he did 
something wrong. He practically crawls on his belly up the stairs to Cutter.

Cutter cradles his head in one hand. "Not now, please. I accept y'submission,
now can we get you outta here before I get busted f'not havin' a license f'you?"

Stormcloud lets his tail sway behind him. Please?

Cutter relaxes slightly and scruffles Stormcloud's head. "Come on, ya big 
palooka." He gets back on the phone, and has Jenny stop by with her pickup. 
With some persuading, he gets the Talon in the back of it. He climbs into the 
front, and as they drive acros the dawn-tinted Columbia Bridge, he starts 
singing the Green Acres theme to himself.

Jenny eyes him, confused and a little worried, then shrugs and joins him.

Back