"Today's papers are tomorrow's chip wrappers, as we say back in England."

The throaty roar of its engine heralds the arrival of the sporty little yellow MX-5, swinging up from the lane into the farm track with a squeal of brakes. It zooms up towards the farmhouse at a speed too high for safety and parks with a flourish and a slight skid in the barnyard, whereat Cedric springs out of it like a jack from a box, and walks round the farmhouse with a jaunty stride.

Jamethon comes out from the farmhouse onto the porch with all the gait of a biker heading out of his watering hole. He in fact, to complete the image, holds a bottle of some beer with German lettering on the label. He takes a long swig then leans on the porch railing, looking out on the natural world... what is left of it.

Cedric sees Jamethon appear on the porch, and his already long strides lengthen a little to bring him up to the Get more quickly. "Morning!" he yodels happily as he walks up, leaning on the porch steps' rail. "Starting early for the weekend?" He gestures to the bottle Jamethon holds.

Jamethon doesn't quickly look to the newly arrived, as if there were something important he has to look at in the distance. After a few silent moments pass he looks down towards Cedric, focusing intensely on the tall man. "The hell are you?" Jamethon's tone is gruff, and from the bags under his eyes, this is not a well rested man.

Jamethon Ethan Black is a good size of a man, six inches above six feet and looking to have about two hundred and ninety or so pounds of muscle on him as well. His normally thick and unshaven beard has been for once cleared away, revealing a face which is a mask of concentration most times. His dancing black eyes always seem to be peering forward yet seeing all around him. Long black hair with the beginnings of unchecked greying fading into view, cascades down his back, wild in form and hanging to just below his waist.
He isn't too fond of dressing stuffily it seems, for all that James wears is a clean t-shirt under a pristine brown leather jacket and a pair of loose but well-fitted black sweatpants while the shoes on his feet are but cork sandles.
On his chest under his t-shirt, only visible when the fabric has been moved, is a massive scar, fleshy and tortured like an old third-degree burn. Another set of scars are on his forehead, just below his bangs are the tips of a set of three jagged scars that travel up and back, the rest covered by his hair. A large myriad collection of scars adorn his visage at other various points as well (+detail Jamethon's scars).
Carrying:
Spear
Labrys
Angrboda
PandaCharm

Cedric looks up at the tall guy. "Cedric Ambermere," he replies. "Of the, ahem, first family around here. I have the honor of addressing...?"

Jamethon inhales a long breath and nods his head, "Ah. Yes." James takes another long swig and after that rather laborous ritual his demenor completely changes. His voice becomes calmer, though still in it's own right, rather gruff. Jamethon looks left, looks right, then gestures for the man to come inside.

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room
All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.

Cedric follows Jamethon into the house expectantly, and stands a fraction outside his personal space. He's no midget, but Jamethon has several inches on him in height, and even a couple in hair length. "Not interrupting, am I?" he asks.

Jamethon shakes his head at the question. "No, but too many unexpected folk moving into the neighborhood recently. I like to not be to brasen outdoors, on account of the veil." James then reaches out his hand to the Fang. "Jamethon Black. Theurge and Fostern among the Fenrir and Warder of the Hidden Walk."

Cedric reaches out, and takes Jamethon's hand, squeezing it firmly but not bone-crushingly. "To repeat," he says pleasantly, "and amplify. Cedric Ambermere, Galliard and Fostern of the Silver Fangs, of a stultifyingly long lineage which I can recite if you want, but I never yet met a non-Fang who did. You're one of those I was hoping to meet, since Falcon has called me here and set me a job to do. I'm currently working on chiminage as set by Vera-rhya, but meantime," he says, taking a pace back to better look up at Jamethon's face, "I ask your formal permission, having been declared free of the Wyrm's taint, to enter the bawn."

Jamethon takes hold of that hand with perhaps a little more than curtious strength, and holds just a moment 'too long' for Cedric to step back comfortably. Something flashes in James' eye then he releases Cedric to move away. "Indeed. You are welcome to all places except for the Caern unless you have a guide to take you in, and then out. This is until you have given chiminage. If you need anything, there are plenty who can help you. Seek me out, Vera is the Alpha, Circle Keeper of the Uktena is our Gatekeeper, Gunnar of the Fenrir is our Ritemaster, Jacinta of the Wendigo is our Master of the Challenge, and Stacey of the Children of Gaia is, fittingly, our Groundskeeper."

"A glitterin' list of names and tribes," comments Cedric as he flexes his fingers surreptitiously, making sure they all still work after the big Get's handshake. He reaches into an inside pocket of his immaculate jacket and pulls out a few leaflets which Jamethon may recognise as the kind that realtors give to prospective buyers. "I'm looking for a house out here, as near to the Bawn as possible, which is my chiminage as well as for my own sake so I don't have to keep sleeping in the risible heap which St Claire thinks is a luxury hotel. I just missed out on one place -- as Warder, do you know of any others? These are as near as I've found so far, and they're not particularly close."

Jamethon sighs, "I just know they are there. I don't keep tabs on real estate trends. Talk to one of the Glass Walkers, they will better know what you are looking for." Here James takes another long drink from his beer and finishes it off, starting to walk over to the kitchen area through the hallway, "I assume Vera laid out the terms well for you. A place as protective to the Bawn and Caern as possible, yes?"

Cedric moves in Jamethon's wake. "Absolutely. Ideally, borderin' on it, but otherwise, near as we can get. For my tribe's use, but to be thrown open to the sept as a whole as well. So that this place --" he gestures around him -- "can have the pressure taken off it. As any mouse will tell you, two holes are better than one, what? The only Glass Walker I've met is a rough old fellow in town, name of Grey. I s'pose I can ask him, though he didn't seem overly fond of me when we first met."

Jamethon gives a hearty laugh now, tossing his head back with the sound. "Grey isn't fond of anyone. Don't let it get to you. On my worst day I'm a full sun's shine kinder than Grey on his best. But he's a good fella to ask. He'll at least know who to point you at. Tell him it's part of chiminage to the Sept. Don't let him tell you no. ...and don't underestimate him. I've been through hell. Grey has been hell."

Cedric smiles back, showing very even white teeth. He may have a British accent but dentally, he isn't living up to national stereotypes. "Okey-dokey," he replies. "I did rather get the feelin' that might be so. The guy struck me as harder-bitten than an all-day sucker. Didn't dare snarl at me outright, since he's somehow only a cliath still, but the thought was there. And as for hell," he says simply, "I've been there too. And come back. Come back stronger for it."

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.

Jamethon nods at this last bit as he throws out his bottle then offers, "I wouldn't question his status as a Cliath, 'least to him. Suffice it to say, he's been more in the past and due to matters both in a strange way honorable, and those vastly not even remotely honorable, has lost rank and privledge. As for hell... I suppose we all manage to find our way there at least once." He turns from the trash can back to Cedric, "Now, anything else I can help you with this fine day?"

"Part of the territory," murmurs Cedric. "Your remarks fascinate me, but I won't pry. I damn' well knew there was something more to him than met the eye. I won't take up more of your time if you're busy, Jamethon." He looks to one side, raises an eyebrow at empty air as though asking a silent question, then shakes his head as he turns back to the Get. "No, unless I can help you or yours with anything?"

Jamethon thinks on this a moment then nods. "Tell me your real name."

Cedric's head cocks slightly on one side. "In full," he says, "I am the Honourable Cedric Glazebrook St.Mawr Ambermere. Amid garou I am Strikes-As-Suddenly-As-Lightning-From-A-Clear-Sky. Previously I have been known as Rough-Or-Smooth and as Gambles-With-The-Wyrm-And-Wins. And I am the Chosen of Falcon, selected from all those of my tribe to work his will and bring strength and unity not just to the Silver Fangs but to the entire Nation." His head straightens up again and his eyes fix on Jamethon piercingly for a long moment before relaxing. "But Cedric will suffice," he murmurs, all pomp and formality vanishing once more.

Jamethon simply nods his head at this, and with a hand gestures back down the hallway towards the main livingroom.

Jamethon comes down the hallway, another beer in hand and clears his throat towards the man heading out. "Jamethon Ethan Black. Once called Fights-For-Hope, now Reflection's-Howl. I'm sure I will see you around again soon."

Cedric gives Jamethon another smile, this one somewhat less tight. "I did wonder whether the custom hereabouts was not to give deednames in homid, but I scarcely liked to ask. Well met, Reflection's-Howl, and I'm sure we shall meet again soon, and more than likely fight alongside each other."

Jamethon gives a nod and from that far off look in his eyes, his mind clearly has many thoughts laboring upon it.

You go through the open doorway at the end of the front hall to enter the large room subdivided into the kitchen and dining room of the house.

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.

Having bidden farewell to Jamethon at the front door, Cedric moves back towards the kitchen, only to walk in and find someone else has entered. "Hello!" he greets her in surprise.

Looking up in surprised, Kristin smiles. "Hello." she says cheerfully, munching down her bowl of salad quickly.

Cedric walks into the room, looking at the youngster at the table. "Have we met?" he asks her cautiously.

She is maybe a fraction of an inch or so over five feet tall without footwear. She's naturally slender and almost unusually petite; with no real breasts to speak of, and with the slightest of slim curves that mark her body as female. Her skin is dark brown-the color of brown sugar, not a true dark brown but a light warm brown. Her hair is brown-black and is neither truly straight nor is it curly. Her eyes are brown, nearly black, they are slightly more round than almond shaped. Her eyebrows are thin, and slender.

An white tee-shirt adorns her torso;the design is a crown of stars, in silver and gold with a little bit of glitter on it. Her low cut hip-hugging jeans are somewhat faded and look slightly worn. The belt is a simple silver chain that loops around and has some extra chain hanging down to create a bit of decoration. The jeans flare out at the bottom, revealing some rather broken in tennis shoes.

Kristin sits back in her chair. "I don't know." she says. She stands. "I'm Kristin." she says extending her hand to man before her.

"Cedric," says the man. "Cedric Ambermere, fostern galliard, Silver Fangs..." He raises one eyebrow to invite Kristin to expand on her introduction.

Kristin smiles. A soft exhale. "Kristin Hunt," she takes a deep a breath before speaking again, "Cub, Theurge, Child of Gaia." she says quietly sitting down into her chair again.

"Ah, one of our future stars," Cedric says genially. "My tribe has a cub here now, Erika. Did you meet her yet? She's not been around long, but she's shaping up well. Are you nearing your Rite?"

Kristin nods. "I've met her." she mumurs. She swallows her sallad quickly. "I don't know.. I don't know much really. Feels like I've been here for ages, but I guess that's how it's gonna feel when you suddenly found out.. you're not... human..." she twirls the spoon. "I really don't know if I'm nearing my right or not, it'll be the Elders choice to say when I'm ready."

Cedric smiles sympathetically. "It's the biggest shock you'll ever get," he tells Kristine. "Even facing your first fight, or seeing your first spirits, isn't as huge as finding out pretty much everything you thought you knew about the world just isn't so."

Kristin laughs. "You've got that right... I wonder if my mother knew.. or even my father." she looks back at her salad bowl. "But I wonder if she's worried, though I mean... I've not been home for a while or... anything... what happens to one's family, when one becomes a garou, one doesn't just dissappear nor are ties severed.... or minds erasesd..."

"My mother knew," Cedric recalls, "though I don't think Dad did. My tribe's had ties to British nobility for the longest time, so they keep tabs on us. Maybe once you're seen as an adult you can make some amends towards your family, if it can be done safely."

Kristin shrugs. "I dunno if I want to.. I mean I've got a little sister who's seven. I think the last thing I want is for her to think I'm some kind of monster or freak..."

Cedric can't resist a smile. "You have, of course, considered the possibility that she may be garou too, what?"

Kristin nods. "But I really doubt it... though I guess it's possible that she could. But she's into fashion and girly stuff. I was always into knowledge and being alone, and trying to make the workd a better place... and... it just seems unlikely."

Cedric rubs his smoothly shaven chin. "At seven it's early to be trying to guess. Hell, at seven I was only interested in sport and fast cars. If you're garou, she may be too, and it'd be wise to keep one eye on her from afar. Were you kinfetched? If not, that goes double."

Kristin umms "Well the two Garou who brought me here.. actually I did see a unicorn looking thing right before they hauled me off. I thought I was haulcinating, though in light of the fact of what I am... I guess I was..." she shurgs..

Cedric nods slowly. "That sounds like a tribal kinfetch, doesn't it, Osric?" He turns his head a little, and chuckles at nothing in particular. "Seems like someone knew you were one of us."

Kristin frowns. "You think so?" she says. "Well I don't know about my sister. I guess, what ever happens ,happens though I think I may keep an eye on her... even if I can't be with her."

Cedric gives Cedric another sympathetic smile. "I know it's probably not something that feels comfortable to think about, but bear it in mind for the future. I was the youngest in my family, so I didn't have that to fret over."

Kristin nods. "Well my father had an older daughter. My half-sister... she's married and got a life, so I'm suspecting she's not Garou.... at least I hope.. not... cause in a way it can be a very lonely feeling.

Cedric sits down, seemingly just so he can look across the table at Kristin from eye level with her. "Hey, now," he says. "You're in one of the friendliest tribes there is. You should never need to be short of a friend. A packmate, even, once you Rite. I'm not in a pack any more, but I hope to be again. There's no feeling like it. Knowing someone will guard your back with their own blood."

Kristin nods. "I know..."

Cedric shakes his head. "You don't... not yet. I mean, you may know in theory. But you won't know for real until you experience it."

Kristin nods. "That's true.." she sits back in her chair. "It's really true, but then again.. there are alot of things I know in theory, but that I don't know in realy life and it easts away at me, because I want to know.."

Cedric grins. "Eager to find out what those fomori and Black Spirals and banes look like in the flesh, what? They're most distressin', but you can handle 'em if you've learned well."

Kristin raises her head. "No... there's just a lot of 'human' stuff that I've never experienced.." she murmurs. "It eats away at me.. alot."

Cedric raises his eyebrows. "Like what, Kristin?"

Kristin pushes the bowl aside. "Nothing I wanna talk about." she murmurs looking into space. She sighs deeply. She turns around. "Love mostly... things like that. High school was always difficult for me... because I wasn't like 'most girls'. I was book worm... an unattactive book worm."

Cedric lifts one hand to his mouth in thought, hesitating. "Mmm... well, for us garou, love isn't impossible... but I guess I'm kind of old to be giving you lectures about that. And a guy too." He seems a little discomfited, looking at Kristin sidelong.

Kristin laughs. "Yeah... it's not impossible, but from everything I've heard so far... we might as well be searching for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow as far as love's concerned... as Garou we can't be truely in love too many things to worry about... to think about to be concerned with..." she leans back.. "Being a teenager probably doesn't help."

Cedric pushes his chair back and stands up, walking to the window and looking out. "I was such a tearaway as a teenager," he confesses. "I was spoilt, quite frankly, and I did a lot of things I'd come to regret later. Still. Water under the bridge, what? Today's papers are tomorrow's chip wrappers, as we say back in England."

Kristin laughs, "Not spoilted, but not... needy." she says quietly. "You're from england..." she raises an eyebrow.

"Couldn't you tell from the voice?" Cedric chuckles. "I suppose it's not as strong an accent as it was, since I've been over here a few years now, in one place or another. You hail from locally?"

Kristin nods. "Yeah.. though my mother's from the East coast of the USA, I guess I speak with more of an East Coast accent, though."

"I'm hopeless at telling US accents," Cedric confesses. "Except Texan ones. I can always get those. This sept I was a member of for a while in Canada had a Shadow Lord from Texas for some reason. What a voice he had! More twang than Duane Eddy's guitar."

Kristin laughs. "wow that must of have been interesting. I was born here near St.Claire... but... I guess I feel like one day I'll go else where, maybe bring Humans and Garou together." she smiles. "Oh.. I could set up a dating service!"

Cedric turns from the window. "Ah, you Children of Gaia! Well, if you do," he says with a twinkle in his eye, "I'll sign up... Anyway, I should go. I need to go back to the city and speak to a couple of guys, Basil and Grey, about real estate. I'd offer you a ride in my MX-5 but I don't know if your elder would approve."

Kristin frowns. "I doubt it... but also she's actually quiet some years my junior... though... she is my elder." she smiles. "Odd..."

"Oh, yes, I've heard about her. She firsted early, didn't she? Stacey." Cedric nods sagely.

Kristin nods. "Stacey-rhya did... I guess, but to become an Elder so soon... that's amazing."

"There's some pretty amazing things happen in this sept, I've found that out already," Cedric says as he heads to the door. "Well, great to meet you, Kristin."

Kristin nods. "A pleasure meeting you Mr.Ambermere."