"Tried Harry Potter? Kind of amusing for us to read about another secret society living under humans' noses..."

Greek House: Common Area(#2409RAJh$)
This is the central hub of the house. From here, you can still see the entrance foyer, as well as the stairway that heads to the second story. Towards the back of the common area is a set of glass doors that lead out to a courtyard. To the east, an arched doorway leads to what apparently serves as a library, office, and workroom, and to the west, an arched doorway leads to what appears to be a kitchen and dining area..
There are several chairs here, simple, elegant, yet functional in their design and intent. The room has a comfortable feel to it, but is a bit ascetic in design. The walls are off-white, the molding dark cherry wood and decorated with acanthus-leaf ornamentation at the corners. A pair of antique spears are hung crossed against each other on one wall, and a wall-relief depicting a scene of Grecian warriors hangs on the other. Above the mantle of the fireplace is a small statue of Artemis, on either side of that, dark metal candlesticks with ivory pillar candles. The entire room is a study in the contrast of light and dark.

Emma is sitting at the kitchen table of the Greek house. No one else seems to be around, save for the sleeping Kevin upstairs. She's got her head propped up on her hands, and the occasional sniffle can be heard as if someone were very quietly crying.

Sleeping? Perhaps not. Soft footsteps sound from the stairs up to the sleeping quarters of the Greek tribe, and Kevin comes cautiously into view. Seeing nobody around initially, he heads for the kitchen, and only then realises that Emma's lurking in there.

Leave it to a sneaky ragabash to go unnoticed on his approach. One hand wipes at her face, both palmside and backside as tears are struck away. A deep, shaken breath is inhaled before she just lets it out and stares at the table.

Kevin wasn't trying to sneak up on the ahroun. Really. He comes to a stop, confusion on his face, eyeing the obviously distressed Emma. Then he does start to sneak; back the way he came, tiptoeing to the stairs and sneaking back up them as silently as he can.

Another moment or two passes and the Ahroun stands up to fetch herself a drink from the faucet. Two glassfuls are downed quickly before she takes her seat at the table again, reaching for the plate of cookies. Misery loves food after all.

Only when he reaches the top of the stairs again does Kevin allow himself to make a sound. He goes to the other extreme, indeed, allowing his feet to fall with a deliberately heavy tread and whistling a tune as he comes stomping downstairs quite slowly. "Anybody down here?" he calls out heartily.

Emma swipes at her face again and nods, "Yeah, Kevin. You feeling better?" she asks of the other as he moves down the steps. "You look better." There is the remnants of tear stricks, but she puts on a game face and ignores that she might look distressed.

Kevin either doesn't notice, or more likely affects not to notice, Emma's appearance. "Burns are going away nicely," he says. "Mentally, not so great. I had a completely vile dream where I got burnt to death in the St Claire hospital fire. No prizes for guessing what inspired that, I suppose." He pulls a chair out and sits at table with Emma. "How's life treating you, Emma-yuf?" he asks cautiously.

Emma looks to the other. "Dreams can be a pain, I can offer you a lot of sympathy on that edge." She sighs, scrubbing fingers over her face. "Life is dealing me a lot of shitty cards right now. I don't even have one hand settled and the bets are pulled."

Kevin blinks at the somewhat obscure metaphor, but gives Emma a look of sympathy. "Anything anyone can do?" he ventures. "I owe you pretty majorly, if it's something you can call in a marker on."

Emma lifts a corner of her lip. "Touch Deer vanished, so my challenge is moot. I've missing packmates that I need for this attack, which has to be done before next moot, or else Vera sees me and Havoc as a bunch of incompetent fools. We don't have the Knife moon power to properly deal with this. Mitch is taking the job in California... and ..." and at this last bit, "Ethan Shiller showed up in town- one of my dads packmates- to tell me that .. he's dead."

Kevin responds to that last kicker with, if anything, more of a reaction even that such bad news warrants. "God, Emma. That's... well... I'm sorry." Heedless of any risk from doing so, he extends one hand and rests it on the ahroun's shoulder. "He was garou?"

Emma nods her head, "Was working toward Adren. His pack went up to Vancouver to deal with something.. I don't know how it happened, Ethan won't tell me the details." She clenches her jaw here at this point, shaking her head, "Mom's gotta deal with raising Signe's kid on her own now. On top of having one in the oven of her own."

"Do you need to go... visit?" Kevin asks. "I'm sure your packmates would be fine to take care of the fire even in your absence. You have some good garou under you, after all."

"Garou that aren't even HERE Kevin!" she snaps slightly, frustrated and overwhelmed. "Grey, Clemency, the claws I need the most are just.. gone, who the fuck knows where. I have shit to take care of here, and I plan on it." She huffs, then closes her eyes in a moment of calming. "I.. I'm sorry." She shakes her head, "I'm.. also going to be seeking a new challenge. From Ethan."

"They're still missing? Aw, hell." Kevin rubs his chin with a faint scraping noise. "I'm so badly out of the loop what with... everything. Have you, uh, considered they might be, well... dead?" he asks, hesitant to make the suggestion but determined. "And you're challenging your dad's packmate?"

Emma shakes her head, "They're not dead. Vex would know that. He knows they are alive, but cannot find them. I heard rumor that Dillen had said they were somewhere umbral. But.. for this long?" She sighs, "And yes, my dad's packmate. He's Get - and he's from a warpack. And he drives me fucking insane."

Even in these circumstances Kevin can't resist a smile at that. "It's the job of rotagars, and ragabashes too, to do that, remember," he says, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze before dropping his hand back down. "I'm glad your packies aren't dead. I always had Grey pegged as indestructible, it's good to be proved right."

Emma nods, "He's .. he's tough and loyal. I want him at my side for this fight, and Clem too. It's like being half empty without them." Her eyes close again and she shakes it off. "Fucking Ragabash. You." She snorts, "You are just as bad."

The hand that lately rested on Emma's shoulder goes to Kevin's brow in a crisp salute. "Just doing my job," he demurs. Then he returns to a more sincere tone. "Look, Emma. Don't sweat it over the tire fire. We've seen it. Sure it's nasty, but it's only got one mouth it can spit gunk out of. Enough garou could take it. And I'd be there even if I weren't under compulsion. I want to gut that thing and stuff those extra tails it gave me down its throat."

Emma nods her head, "Yeah... right. Only one mouth that we've seen of so far. Surrounded by smoke and blistering heat that will kill us by merely standing there. Great odds. And hey, we can bring our two available theurges for help."

"You're saying Laura isn't worth at least two other theurges right by herself?" Kevin presses on, doggedly optimistic. "Look, Emma-yuf. You've had bad news, really bad... I know just how it feels to lose your father. You won't be thinking straight for a few days. You'll be seeing problems where none exist, making mountains out of molehills. In a while you'll get perspective back."

"Kevin, this is a mountain. A mountain of burning, corrupt fire.. bale fire. How is that not a mountain? How do you suppose we fight this thing? Run in and try to damage it enough before our own attacks bring us down from the wounds they'll no doubt give us? Find me theurges. Find me spirits that will come with us and aid us on this. Find me a Wendigo that can stir the smoke away... then I will say it is a hill."

Kevin shrugs. "Okay," he says, as though he has all three of those requisites tucked away in his back pocket. "Most of the Wendigo are Guardians, so we'd need to find someone to take their place during the fight, but I'm sure you could be persuasive," he smiles. "Theurges... let's see, Laura we have... what about the Bone Gnawers? Gunnar -- your tribemate? Jamethon, ditto? Or even that Silver Fang, Mathias. I know he's not a sept member but he's keen as all mustard."

"Jamethon is a guardian, I plan on asking Gunnar, and Mathias can come if he likes." All of this muttered under her breath. "I'm just.. overloaded."

"Go take a break," Kevin counsels. "Either go to Vancouver and do what you need there... or to California with what's his name, Mitch... or just stay here and get drunk for a few nights. You're working yourself too hard, and it's not good for you."

Emma snorts, "And running off to take a break because shit gets hard is a good thing? I got responsibility here. I just wish the dealer would stop throwing cards for a few."

"Emma," Kevin repeats, "you may be superhuman but even superheroes need a day off. You think Brom didn't have evenings getting smashed and picking fights for pleasure in bars? That Grey doesn't spend time online shooting things up in games? That Vera doesn't... well, okay, maybe Vera doesn't," he concedes with a wry grin.

Emma breaks into a grin at that last bit, "Yeah I guess I don't have a hobby... nothing to relax with." She grabs another cookie, munching on it.

"What did you like to do before you knew you were one of Gaia's warriors?" Kevin prompts the ahroun.

Emma lifts a shoulder, "I uh. I hung out with folks, and we had races and played war and stuff."

Kevin hmmms. "I don't suppose they would hold much charm for you these days... What do grown-ups do? My mother was in a bridge club," he recalls. "You ever play cards?"

Emma laughs and shakes her head, "No, never played cards. Used to play video games. But, I dunno. They're not as much fun when.. we do that shit for real now."

"Can't say I don't still enjoy them," Kevin drawls, "but what do you expect from Cockroach's child? Okay. Simple pleasures. You ever read for enjoyment? Tried Harry Potter? Kind of amusing for us to read about another secret society living under humans' noses..."

Emma cants her head at this, "Harry Potter huh? I saw the first movie..." she thinks about this. "I don't know if I could slow my head down enough to concentrate."

"I'd already read the first few before things went kablooie," Kevin explains. "But the books are great. You can even get grown-up editions without the kiddie covers so you don't have to be ashamed to be seen reading them. You can in England, anyway."

Emma laughs at that, "Really huh? Why would anyone care what someone reads? A books a book. I mean as long as it's not like Berenstein Bears or some shit."

"Berry-whassi?" Kevin asks, then goes on before waiting for an answer. "Don't dis books, Emma. Books have shaped history. Books influence people long after the author's dead sometimes. Lord of the Rings... Ayn Rand... the Bible..."

Emma shakes her head, "I just meant, why would someone be ashamed of reading a kids book in public. It's not like toddler level."

"People get uptight about the weirdest things," Kevin points out. "Look at... some of the people we know."

Emma snorts and laughs, nodding again. "Yeah. You're right. Anyway, sorry for .. bugging out on you. I'm glad your feeling a bit better."

Kevin shrugs. "No point getting all in a twist about a few extra tails here and there," he says airily. "It's you I'm worried for. I'm just this annoying little gadfly. You're the general who's planning our biggest fight in a year or more."

Emma smiles, and reaches out to touch the other. "You're a good egg Kev. Ya fuck up a lot, but you got a good heart." She stands then and moves to head upstairs.

Kevin gives Emma a grin and the grin stays on his face till Emma's well out of sight. Only then does it fade away and Kevin is left at the table alone, biting his lip. He sighs to himself.

and a little later...

Kevin has ventured out of the bedroom and is lying in front of the fire, reading a book. He's still in glabro form and looking as ugly as ever, but the burns visible on his face, hands and feet have faded quite a bit.

Laura arrives in her usual style, without much fanfare aside from the effort required to drag a grocery bag, metal bucket and a lot of plastic sheeting through the front door. She walks into the living room with a short hello, and starts pushing furniture back.

Kevin sits upright and puts the book aside. "What's up, Laura-yuf?" he asks. "Lost a contact lens?"

Laura shakes her head. "Weaver stuff," she says, sticking out her tongue to indicate she's joking. The plastic, the bucket and the grocery bag end up on the floor. "How are you feeling today?" Another twitch of the nose in Kevin's direction.

"Physically, I'm fit as a fiddle. Mentally..." Kevin shrugs. "Nightmares when asleep, fretting when awake."

"This should help, I hope," Laura murmurs as she starts layering the plastic along the floor. At least three layers deep it goes, with a slightly raised edge.

Kevin looks at the thick plastic. "I'd make some smartass remark about what you're doing," he states, "but I am completely baffled. So I'll just ask. What are you doing, Laura?"

Laura glances over at the Glass Walker. "Surgery," she says, pinning part of the plastic down with her bucket. "To remove your...extras." A twitch of the lip, and the theurge returns to her work, spreading a handful of salt from the grocery bag over the expanded surface.

Kevin gives Laura a long silent look, then picks up the book, slips a bookmark into it, and tucks it safely away. "Just you and me?" he queries.
"The door is locked. I've asked my sisters to stay away. Just you and I," she answers, spreading the salt carefully. Laura looks up at him, then back at her work.

"Just that I wouldn't want to find myself losing control or trying to fight you if the pain or the sight of silver makes me freak," Kevin says in a low voice, avoiding Laura's look.

Laura digs around in the grocery bag, withdrawing a length of rope. "I'm a little rusty, but it should hold. I've Cleansed the unwilling before." She drops the rope on the ground, a few stray hairs from the cord shaking loose.

Kevin's eyes go to the rope and then back to Laura at last. "I'm not unwilling," he insists. "But the flesh is sometimes weak, y'know?" He climbs to his feet and helps straighten out some creases and crinkles in the plastic. "What form should I take?"

"Wolf. Be careful of the salt." The theurge moves a little better than she has the previous few days, hardly wincing at all when she bends over to shift things on the ground. Out of the bucket comes her flask, a bottle of vodka, a sharp-edged piece of obsidian, a small charcoal burner and a pitted, ash-filled bowl. Last, gingerly handled and tucked away immediately, comes a packet wrapped in plain muslin fabric.

Kevin nods and obediently walks to the centre of the plastic-covered area, keeping clear of the salt, whereupon he shifts up through the forms. As he does so those four extra tails sprout out of his rear end once more, the bony one, the putrid one, the clubbed one and the quadrifurcated one. In lupus form they look even more out of place than in crinos or hispo purely because the proportion of tail to body is so much nearer parity for a lupus. He twists to look at them and gives a desperate, sad whine.

Laura doesn't bother hiding her revulsion at the sight of the appendages. She kneels next to the lupus and slowly hog-ties him, making sure the knots are tight. The tying ends with an improvised muzzle, woven around the Glass Walker's jaws. "Be ready," she murmurs to him, showing unusual care as she strips her shirt off and uses it to blindfold the Ragabash. He can smell her preparations-the heady smoke as the incense in the brazier is lit, the sharp tang of the cheap vodka as it's opened. Lastly, as the woman murmurs in Greek, then French, then Iroquois, there comes the sort of electric smell that wet metal sometimes has.

Power-Up whines again as Laura goes to work with the rope, but he doesn't struggle, though he does put on the 'puppy eyes' look. He lies on his side, his true tail tucked down in shame, which also serves to move it to an extent out of the way of the false ones. At the scent of the metal his bound jaws emit another indistinct whimper of dismay and his eyes close.
The first of the tails to be 'treated' is the rotting, dead one. The woman's hand pins his hip down and separates the fur, searching for the root of the wretched thing. He can feel the numb pressure of her palpating the base of the limp, stinking appendage, then she finds the spot the base should be. First she marks the edge with the obsidian. There's a sensation of movement, then one hand grips and yanks the dead flesh. The other cuts, fast as she can, with the sanctified silver blade.

Power-Up's front claws scratch at the thick plastic as Laura's silver blade slices the stinking dead tail from his body, and the tightness of the rope around his muzzle becomes noticeably strained.

Laura works quickly. Though the operation itself is unfamiliar, the work of it isn't. The blade is silver and sharp, and it takes force of will to keep the hated metal in her hands. When the last of the blasted thing is free of him, she drops it into the bucket. The bandaging of the area stings at first, then goes nicely numb. He barely has time to breathe or relax before the theurge goes to work again-the tail with phallic implications is next, probed just as careful, then cut just as quickly.

A little more prepared for the searing pain now, Kevin doesn't kick about, but his whole body is as taut as a wire. And when the second tail comes off, the wire gets thinner and shorter -- a high C rather than a low E, in piano terms. The lupus is breathing fast and deep.

The hands are fast. The tail slaps down into the bucket with a meaty 'thwock'. She pokes at the area she's just cleared, then another poultice is applied. As the first, it stings, then goes pleasantly numb. "Two of four," she murmurs, half to herself. A bit of the vodka is dribbled into the wolf's muzzle-not enought to be a painkiller, just enough to sting the nose and briefly overpower the stench of blood, shit and rot. Laura grasps at the nerve-and-bone tail, pausing to pass the knife through the smoke of the incense before the field surgery continues.

You paged the room with 'Oh shit! You poured alcohol into Kevin's mouth?!?!'.
You paged the room with 'That must be worth an extra rage die. He's teetotal. And very righteous about it.'.

Power-Up doesn't seem to like the taste of alcohol in his mouth -- in fact this makes him react almost more than the pain. For a brief second his muscles bulge as though he's about to swell to hispo until he regains control of himself and tries to spit the liquid out as best he can through bound jaws, a process which perhaps takes his attention away from the amputation of his third tail, the one that looks like an anatomy study.
Laura sets that tail into the bucket, listening to the strange little clatter it makes. She takes some extra care with the dressing of this one, once again prodding it to ensure she's fully removed the horrid thing. The incense is set closer to the male's nose, and she fusses a little over the salt. The silver passes through the incense yet again, and the Fury takes a grip on the last remaining tail. Something about the thing disturbs her-he can feel a tremor in her fingers as she finds the base and takes hold. She sucks in her breath, grits her teeth and begins the cutting again. The scent of blood at this is stronger than the remaining alcohol, and he can really feel the pain as the last of his spare tails is carved carefully away.

It takes all his strength, it seems, for Power-Up to hold still for the last cut. His breathing is deeper and quicker still, panting in huge gulps, and if his muzzle weren't tied shut he'd surely be open-mouthed and tongue-lolling. But at last, at last, it is done, and the only tail remaining to him is the one that belongs in its place.

The last of the operations involves some stitching, and then that blessed numbing sensation comes as the last of the poultices is applied. When she's sure it's worked, Laura removes her shirt from the Glass Walker's eyes, then uses her plain old steel knife to cut the rope and set him free. The muslin, stained red, brown and yellow in places, is wrapped around what is probably the silver knife, and the tails have been crammed into the bucket. The theurge is bloody to the elbows, with a few spatters having reached her chest and stomach.

As soon as the rope is loosened Power-Up springs to his feet, giving Laura a dirty look, and makes like a cat spitting out furballs for several seconds. Following that he shifts up to crinos, though, it seems, more to use words to Laura than to menace her. ~I do not drink alcohol. In any form, for any reason.~

"I'll remember that later," Laura replies, holding her flask up to the looming ragebeast. "It's water," she says, a bit of a tremor in her voice. She looks down and away, returning to the post-surgery cleanup with stiff efficiency.

Power-Up reaches out with a slightly shaky hand for the flask and gulps at the contents. This seems to calm him in the way that alcohol might calm another garou. ~Thank you,~ he says as he passes it back. ~Was it successful?~

From afar, to the room, Laura checks. Does amputation by silver work, or is a second stage, Cleanse It With Fire approach need to be used?
You paged the room with 'Hell, as usual, I don't know. Did Jihg say anything?'.
You paged the room with 'On the basis that the castration was with silver and wasn't permanent I'd say a second stage is needed.'.
You paged the room with 'But it's 1am so can we perhaps do it tomorrow and backdate it to now?'.
Laura pages to the room: Nothing of note. Okay...so...I'll say that the herbs Laura's treating with will keep the wounds from healing over, while staunching the bleeding. Tomorrow, last stage-careful application of fire to cauterize?
Laura pages to the room: Like a wart. A big, goddamn awful, tail shaped wart.
You paged the room with 'Tomorrow before he runs off on the TQ!'.

Laura reaches up and pulls aside one of the bandages. "There's one more step necessary. You'll need to rest with these poultices on for a few hours, then we will finish with fire." She still sounds tired, even a little weak as she pastes the bandage back in place. "Go. Sleep. Clean the blood off, but don't move the bandage.

~Fire too,~ Power-Up says. ~Wonderful.~ Even in crinos the sarcasm dripping from his voice is unmistakeable. ~What form should I sleep in?~

"One that would normally have tails. The ointment must cover as much as possible," Laura replies.

Power-Up inclines his huge head in assent. ~Finally, what will you do with the tails?~ he asks. ~Because if you have no use for them, I wish to take them with me in the final fight. So that when we have slain the monster, I can STUFF THEM ALL DOWN ITS THROAT,~ he clarifies.

"I was going to burn them," Laura offers. "But they're yours. Your body. Take them and do what you will."

Power-Up picks up the bucket with an expression of distaste, and pads up the stairs, arching his neck to avoid bumping it on the ceiling.