Permission-seeking.

[jeremiah_garou]

14 April, 2013
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (28% full).

The ground floor of the library is quiet, and Jeremiah is shuffling down the stairs, towel still rubbing over relatively short hair and his now neatly-trimmed beard, just over a quarter inch long. The ahroun glances around, a bit jumpily, even as he makes his way over to the couch and where his things are, settling down with a book and draping his jacket over his shoulders.

A sound knock rattles the door, but whomever is on the other side doesn't wait long for an answer. Just a couple of seconds later, Ky lets himself inside, perhaps comfortable enough with the territory that's not his own to simply walk inside. Easier to ask forgiveness and all that, maybe? "Anyone home," he calls out as he sidles in past the doorway, only to lean backward enough to close the door behind him.

"Over here," Jeremiah calls out, the nasal voice unpleasant to listen to, but no better or worse than usual. The ahroun doesn't seem inclined to get up from the couch, and fixes Ky with a long, pondering look, brows furrowing, before he offers up. "Lefty's out, I'm sorry. But do you have a moment?" It seems to be a request to talk.

Ky's expression turns decidedly cold, almost to the point of anger, when it's Jeremiah's voice that greets him. He very nearly turns to take himself from the Library, but he catches the look from the former Lord as he turns. He regards the Ahroun for a long moment, weighing the request, then turns to face him more fully. His chin lifts slightly, just a fraction, and a brow raises as well. "Is it important?"

Jeremiah's expression doesn't give, but there's nothing in Jeremiah's manner suggesting that the ahroun would try and assert dominance, and he scoots to the edge of the couch and pulls his jacket a bit more around himself, almost protectively. Yet neither does Jeremiah outright submit. He just is, that undercurrent of rage present but controlled in an obviously strong willpower, pushed deeper under the surface now than it ever was in his past. Eventually, he answers, one simple, single word. "Yes." And while his voice is laughable, his expression is serious.

Ky's brows lift just a little higher, posture maintaining it's more dominant stance. And he waits, expectant without speaking.

The ahroun takes a deep breath, and then draws himself to standing, moving over to lean against the counter in the kitchen area while standing fairly straight. Jeremiah is clearly now a fairly deliberate man, and it shows in his words. To the point, and yet respectful. "I'm told you're alpha of your tribe at the moment. I need permission from each tribal elder," Kyler included, indicated with a slight nod, and only now a tip of the head to show throat. And yet it's clearly difficult, doesn't last more than a mere moment, "To stay in St. Claire. As anruth."

There's the very smallest of twitches, neither smirk nor sneer but a muscle just beneath the Ragabash's eye giving a jump when the former Gnawer speaks. He's unimpressed, by the words and the show of submission, but grace keeps him from turning it into arrogance. "You want to stay in Saint Claire, when you were supposed to have been exiled on penalty of death if you returned," he says slowly, carefully enunciating each word. "Why are you doing this? What is driving you to continue on this self destructive path? Or is it my destruction you're seeking?" The switch to Russian is seamless, words coming as easily as if he'd never stopped speaking the language despite having not used it in over a year.

Jeremiah's brows raise a tick at the Russian. Ky isn't the only one who hasn't used it in quite a while. And then he responds in English, still carefully at first. "I don' seek your destruction. Why would I?" he asks. And there's nothing malicious in the words, though there's certainly anger there. "I wish you the happiness of the world and when I'm done, I'll be on my way and gone. I bear you no ill will, Kyler. I did not return on purpose—but now that I am here, now that I have stood in front of th' halfmoons for things I was. I will finish it." Self-destruction, on the other hand—on that, it is clear that the ragabash hit a nerve.

The intensity of Ky's own anger lessens, and it would seem that Jeremiah isn't the only one who's learning to not be so hot headed. He doesn't warm to the other cliath in the slightest but keeps his posture as one confident in his superiority. Without it pushing into ego. "Before I consider whether to agree to your presence here or not, I would know what it is you feel you need to finish. Likewise, if I agree to voting for you to stay, I will require something of you."

The Gnawer doesn't seem inclined to argue or posture at the issue, and he moves into the kitchen. "I am going to make tea, would you like some?" He winces once, at the sound of his own voice, and then continues regardless of Ky's answer to the question. "Whatever you require, I will do. I do not ask your forgiveness." There's a harsh, unpleasant, squeaking laugh, followed by, "Now that would be presumptuous of me." Jeremiah sets about putting the kettle up for tea and pulls a pack of cigarettes from one pocket of the oversize coat, lights one, and continues to speak.

"I stood in front of Jack Salem and Paula Speaks-Through-Pager. They gave me terms, to fulfill. The first that I seek permission from each tribal elder to stay as anruth in the area, whatever that means for each one. That I do not step on the Bawn or go to Edgewood. And in the case that I perform a great enough duty to this Sept, the Voice of the Jackal will be removed. In the mean time I will serve this place as well as I can, that I may bring some good to it." There is a much sharper look given towards the ragabash now, and in English, Jeremiah asks. "Why did you switch to Russian? I speak English well 'nough now, you know."

Ky's gaze alone follows the Ahroun, impassive enough to the point of being dispassionate. He doesn't answer the offer for tea, nor does he interrupt while Jeremiah speaks. "For my own reasons," he states in answer to the question posed at him. "I need to think about this. Whatever… changes you've gone through…" He trails off, lips pressing together for a brief moment. "You'll have my answer soon, Jermi. And you can guarantee that it will be one to make my ancestors proud."