Bullfrog (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jeremiah_garou) wrote2013-08-13 07:30 pm
jeremiah_garou) wrote2013-08-13 07:30 pm
Entry tags:
What to do.
August 16, 2013.
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (68% full).
It's much later in the day than Jeremiah's usually found coming into the Library, and yet that's what the ahroun does, making his way in the front door and letting it swing shut behind him, hands tucked into his pockets, lost in some thought or other as he makes his way towards the common area. He'd been by much earlier in the day while most were out, enough to leave another of the infrequent notes that he's left in the kitchen area for Lefty, clear if blocky English writing that he'd been by to look to talk with her. The Jackal'd voice makes it quite clear even before he emerges from the stacks and into the living area though. "Hello?"
Lefty's obviously only just coming in herself. The ragabash is standing near the old fridge, staring at the latest note while removing her light jacket. Her head turns towards the jackal's voice. "Over here," she says, wearily but loudly enough.
Jeremiah has shed the numerous outer layers and looks… almost normal except for the overgrown scruff of beard and the beanie that hides that he needs a haircut, except for the ever present touch of Rage, by the time he gets to the kitchen. He moves, so that he can speak more quietly, for all the lack of good it does him. "Hey," he says, ducking a nod, then looking at her briefly. "You look tired. Is there— more I can do?" Not an unusual request from him, either. "Do you got some time…?" There's another pause, and quickly, he adds. "It's ok if not. I just…" He's hiding it well enough, but the young man's troubled, brooding.
Lefty shakes her head as she pulls the door tot he fridge open. After pulling out a beer, she clarifies, "Nothing you can do, but I got time, yeah." She points to the note and then pops the top off the bottle, taking a quick sip. "Sorry I've not gotten back to you earlier. What's up?"
The man lifts his shoulders, a slow and deliberate shrug. "It's ok," he reiterates. "I been working on what I was set to do, to stay here," Jeremiah says, considering the fridge briefly and then shaking his head to himself. "Asking each of the… it got to…" He looks down at himself, and falls silent for a moment longer, he walks over to the couch area, but settles on the floor, sitting on his heels and folding his hands. "And a lot of thinking."
Lefty gestures to the fridge to offer the ahroun something, but as he moves away, she becomes more interested in what he's saying. She follows him, settling on the couch. "Got to what exactly?" she says, uncertain what he means.
Jeremiah leans partially against the couch, rather than the wholly at attention sitting that he often tends to. "Kyler." One word, and even through the Jackal'd voice there's tension and old wounds evident, and Jeremiah lifts his hand to pull his beanie off and run his fingers through his hair. Then he looks up at Lefty, and it's searching, thoughtful, still troubled, but silent.
Lefty's only visible reaction is faint frown. After taking another sip from her beer, she asks, "What about him?"
"I don't know what t' do," Jeremiah admits, even more quietly quietly, and furrows his brow a bit further. "I can't believe him, or gauge what he's said. I'm shit at politicking." His teeth bare at the ground, and he adds with sudden intensity. "And I hate them."
Lefty's lips curl into a smirk. This time, the pull from her beer is deeper. She emits a silent belch before speaking, as well. "Yeah, well. Shadow Lords." This is meant as a catch all explanation. Tilting her head slightly, she adds, "Jer, you do know that you are a Bone Gnawer, right? So there's no need for you to 'understand' them. There is, in fact, no need for you to be worried about them at all. As for gauging Ky, he's a big boy. And his own man. You don't need to baby sit him."
Jeremiah eases, just a little, but not much. "He can still tell me to leave town. And as the currently acting Shadow Lord elder, I'd leave," Jer points out. "And I's tryin' to understand because of what he asked. He said yes, but on an if." His teeth bare more. "Shadow Lords," he spits at the floor, though there's no change in his manner otherwise, and he's still relaxed enough. "But he can't see me as who I am now, either. Not many folk here do."
Lefty frowns again. She pulls herself out of the slouch that inevitably claims her when sitting on the comfortable couch, and leans forward. "Well. Wait. From what I remember, the conditions were that you talk to all the tribal elders, and the sept alpha. You've done that, right?"
The man nods. "As many as I can find and as will speak to me. I've left messages and keep trying to find the rest and will keep trying until I do. Some are hard to find. Or on the bawn where I's can't go, and Charlene's been trying to help me track down and arrange to talk." He pauses. "Dirk said yes but that I do something for Falcon, sometime. Hasn't yet, hasn't figured what, but whenever he does, I will. Golden, well. That gift. I don't begrudge folks to ask things of me. Ky said yes, but asked. He wants an alliance," Jer says, then quiets. "He wants a chance. Wants to meet with you sometime, proper meeting."
Lefty follows some of what Jer says, but some of it clearly doesn't connect—the missing pieces of information making things confusing for her. She shakes it all off, though, and focuses in one a single point—the last one. "He's basically hanging you out to dry on the off chance that I agree to some kind of alliance with him?"
"Shadow Lords," Jeremiah spits again. "Not quite, though sure felt as he'd be hanging me out to dry nonetheless and as far as that. I'd leave first." He's still calm, but he leans on the couch and puts his head on his hand. "All he wants of me—I think—is t' get you to agree to meet with him. I think."
Lefty shrugs. "Seems like a lot of double-oh-seven nonsense. The boy knows he can see me whenever he wants. All he has to do is knock on my door."
Jeremiah nods. "Then why's he all with that racket?" he asks, shaking his head a moment longer, and then he gets up, going to grab a water bottle from the kitchen. Most of the cold water gets drank, some of it goes down his shirt and shoulders on purpose. "But he said he wants to show that he's not planning to backstab, or evil, said he knows you've no reason to agree. I don't know he knows that, but I'll remind him when I see him." Jer comes back to sit down again and sighs.
Lefty nods. The ragabash watches the ahroun move back to the fridge. She nods again when he's finished speaking, and after a small sigh, she pushes her way out of the couch. She looks even more tired than she did at the beginning of the evening. "Well, tell him he can come see me whenever he likes. I'll listen to whatever he wants to say, but I can't guarantee anything beyond that. I'm gonna hit the sack. I'll see ya later, ok?"
There's one more nod as the former Shadow Lord settles, arm draped over part of the couch and pondering in his posture. "I ain't goin' anywhere," he offers, followed by a sheepish look. "Unless things turn south. There's anything I can do let me know. Please. Long as it's fighting or such not over-thinking."
Lefty is known for her grins, but she has rarely given such an expression to the ex Shadow Lord. But tonight, as she makes her way up stairs, one slips out. She waves good night to him and disappears down the second floor hall beyond the landing.
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (68% full).
It's much later in the day than Jeremiah's usually found coming into the Library, and yet that's what the ahroun does, making his way in the front door and letting it swing shut behind him, hands tucked into his pockets, lost in some thought or other as he makes his way towards the common area. He'd been by much earlier in the day while most were out, enough to leave another of the infrequent notes that he's left in the kitchen area for Lefty, clear if blocky English writing that he'd been by to look to talk with her. The Jackal'd voice makes it quite clear even before he emerges from the stacks and into the living area though. "Hello?"
Lefty's obviously only just coming in herself. The ragabash is standing near the old fridge, staring at the latest note while removing her light jacket. Her head turns towards the jackal's voice. "Over here," she says, wearily but loudly enough.
Jeremiah has shed the numerous outer layers and looks… almost normal except for the overgrown scruff of beard and the beanie that hides that he needs a haircut, except for the ever present touch of Rage, by the time he gets to the kitchen. He moves, so that he can speak more quietly, for all the lack of good it does him. "Hey," he says, ducking a nod, then looking at her briefly. "You look tired. Is there— more I can do?" Not an unusual request from him, either. "Do you got some time…?" There's another pause, and quickly, he adds. "It's ok if not. I just…" He's hiding it well enough, but the young man's troubled, brooding.
Lefty shakes her head as she pulls the door tot he fridge open. After pulling out a beer, she clarifies, "Nothing you can do, but I got time, yeah." She points to the note and then pops the top off the bottle, taking a quick sip. "Sorry I've not gotten back to you earlier. What's up?"
The man lifts his shoulders, a slow and deliberate shrug. "It's ok," he reiterates. "I been working on what I was set to do, to stay here," Jeremiah says, considering the fridge briefly and then shaking his head to himself. "Asking each of the… it got to…" He looks down at himself, and falls silent for a moment longer, he walks over to the couch area, but settles on the floor, sitting on his heels and folding his hands. "And a lot of thinking."
Lefty gestures to the fridge to offer the ahroun something, but as he moves away, she becomes more interested in what he's saying. She follows him, settling on the couch. "Got to what exactly?" she says, uncertain what he means.
Jeremiah leans partially against the couch, rather than the wholly at attention sitting that he often tends to. "Kyler." One word, and even through the Jackal'd voice there's tension and old wounds evident, and Jeremiah lifts his hand to pull his beanie off and run his fingers through his hair. Then he looks up at Lefty, and it's searching, thoughtful, still troubled, but silent.
Lefty's only visible reaction is faint frown. After taking another sip from her beer, she asks, "What about him?"
"I don't know what t' do," Jeremiah admits, even more quietly quietly, and furrows his brow a bit further. "I can't believe him, or gauge what he's said. I'm shit at politicking." His teeth bare at the ground, and he adds with sudden intensity. "And I hate them."
Lefty's lips curl into a smirk. This time, the pull from her beer is deeper. She emits a silent belch before speaking, as well. "Yeah, well. Shadow Lords." This is meant as a catch all explanation. Tilting her head slightly, she adds, "Jer, you do know that you are a Bone Gnawer, right? So there's no need for you to 'understand' them. There is, in fact, no need for you to be worried about them at all. As for gauging Ky, he's a big boy. And his own man. You don't need to baby sit him."
Jeremiah eases, just a little, but not much. "He can still tell me to leave town. And as the currently acting Shadow Lord elder, I'd leave," Jer points out. "And I's tryin' to understand because of what he asked. He said yes, but on an if." His teeth bare more. "Shadow Lords," he spits at the floor, though there's no change in his manner otherwise, and he's still relaxed enough. "But he can't see me as who I am now, either. Not many folk here do."
Lefty frowns again. She pulls herself out of the slouch that inevitably claims her when sitting on the comfortable couch, and leans forward. "Well. Wait. From what I remember, the conditions were that you talk to all the tribal elders, and the sept alpha. You've done that, right?"
The man nods. "As many as I can find and as will speak to me. I've left messages and keep trying to find the rest and will keep trying until I do. Some are hard to find. Or on the bawn where I's can't go, and Charlene's been trying to help me track down and arrange to talk." He pauses. "Dirk said yes but that I do something for Falcon, sometime. Hasn't yet, hasn't figured what, but whenever he does, I will. Golden, well. That gift. I don't begrudge folks to ask things of me. Ky said yes, but asked. He wants an alliance," Jer says, then quiets. "He wants a chance. Wants to meet with you sometime, proper meeting."
Lefty follows some of what Jer says, but some of it clearly doesn't connect—the missing pieces of information making things confusing for her. She shakes it all off, though, and focuses in one a single point—the last one. "He's basically hanging you out to dry on the off chance that I agree to some kind of alliance with him?"
"Shadow Lords," Jeremiah spits again. "Not quite, though sure felt as he'd be hanging me out to dry nonetheless and as far as that. I'd leave first." He's still calm, but he leans on the couch and puts his head on his hand. "All he wants of me—I think—is t' get you to agree to meet with him. I think."
Lefty shrugs. "Seems like a lot of double-oh-seven nonsense. The boy knows he can see me whenever he wants. All he has to do is knock on my door."
Jeremiah nods. "Then why's he all with that racket?" he asks, shaking his head a moment longer, and then he gets up, going to grab a water bottle from the kitchen. Most of the cold water gets drank, some of it goes down his shirt and shoulders on purpose. "But he said he wants to show that he's not planning to backstab, or evil, said he knows you've no reason to agree. I don't know he knows that, but I'll remind him when I see him." Jer comes back to sit down again and sighs.
Lefty nods. The ragabash watches the ahroun move back to the fridge. She nods again when he's finished speaking, and after a small sigh, she pushes her way out of the couch. She looks even more tired than she did at the beginning of the evening. "Well, tell him he can come see me whenever he likes. I'll listen to whatever he wants to say, but I can't guarantee anything beyond that. I'm gonna hit the sack. I'll see ya later, ok?"
There's one more nod as the former Shadow Lord settles, arm draped over part of the couch and pondering in his posture. "I ain't goin' anywhere," he offers, followed by a sheepish look. "Unless things turn south. There's anything I can do let me know. Please. Long as it's fighting or such not over-thinking."
Lefty is known for her grins, but she has rarely given such an expression to the ex Shadow Lord. But tonight, as she makes her way up stairs, one slips out. She waves good night to him and disappears down the second floor hall beyond the landing.