[Context for the beginning of this: A bunch of cubs went into the Umbra 
  without permission. Dillan and Rose among them.]

"Uh." Dillan's using that word a lot today. "I sorta, like, ran from it. 
 Fighting isn't exactly the word I'd use."
Dillan pats rose on the head or something. "Uh. Thanks..."
At Rose's comment, the pair of eyes hiding behind the door widena bit, and 
 Dusty wiuckly slams the front door again, ducking out.
Mark looks back at the door again as Dusty makes his hasty departure.
Derrick pokes his head in the back door. "Hey," he says, coming in further.
Tatiana sighs and gets up, leaving the farmhouse.
Rose backs away. "Now don't you ever do anything like that again! You hear?
Mark laughs.
Derrick waves a hand. "What'd he do that he can never do again?"
Mark says "Have THunder's Claws take him into the umbra during the day."
Rose says "It shoulda been alla us. We all did wrong, we all shoulda bin 
 punished the same. All Miss Anne did was break my jaw an my ribs. Dillan 
 coulda died."
Mark looks curious. "What were you being punished for?
Dillan, wide-eyed in disbeleif, nods. "Uh. Sure. I'll keep it in mind." He 
 tacks on afterwards, "Just for you, Rose."
Derrick says, "Ack. In the _daytime_?" At Rose's comment, he repeats, "all..."
Dillan wavers a hand at Mark. "Uh. Somethin' about going into the umbra 
 without permission, and stuff. Nothing major."
Mark ahhs. "Then he was just making sure you knew how dumb that was."
Rose just looks around. "An' Dillan's too smart ta do it ever again."
Dillan shrugs. "Well, it was at the Caern. I ain't stupid or nothin'."
Mark shakes his head. "Looks like you have Rose's vote for alpha cub, Dillan."
Dillan blinks. "Er. What?"
Rose says "Nah. We still gotta find out 'bout Maddie's punishment.""
Mark says "Think you'll stay together as a pack once you're all through your 
 Rites of Passage?"
Rose says "I dunno."
Derrick shrugs.
Dillan waves his hands."Back up. What's this about a pack, an' about rites?"
Mark shrugs. "Just a thought."
Rose says "We's a team."
Mark says "Well, garou tend to call teams packs."
Derrick grins at Rose. "Yeah, well, a team that has, as its only common 
 element the fact that everyone's being trampled on ain't a team that's gonna 
 do well in the long run."
Rose juts out her lower lip. "I thought we had more'n that." she says, softly.
Dillan says "More'n /what/?"
Derrick looks at Rose, and her lower lip, and says, carefully, "We do. We just
 gotta get more of the stuff that doesn't depend on being against the 
 grownups."
Rose says "We's stronger together'n we is apart. We learns together faster'n 
 apart. We protects each other. We can do more. . . What else can we do?"
You say "Teach each other - you an' me, we got that bit covered - and keep 
 doin' stuff together, and stuff like that. Y'know, _enjoy_ each other."
Rose says "Maybe we can do projects, like something for Gaia? Something 
 little? D'you think the Elders would let us?"
Derrick blinks. "What kinda stuff?"
Rose says "I dunno. Like helpin' the Groundskeeper cleanin' up? Or making the 
 spirits happy by talkin' to them?"
Dillan pipes up "Hey, cool, I'll talk to spirits all you want. Spirits rock."
Derrick grins. "Sounds cool to me. Help bandage folks up who need it?"
Rose nods. "Like that. Yeah. We should all ask our Elders.
Eochaid wanders in from the front porch area, closing the door quietly behind 
 him. Slung over his shoulder is the ever-pressent duffelbag.
Rose yawns. "Mister Alexander said he'd be gone out tonight, so no lesson, and
  I was to go to sleep early. I dunno why. I should go now."
Mark looks back at the door and waves to Eochaid when he sees who it is.
Mark says "Goodnight, Rose."
Rose says "Remember the plan."
Rose goes upstairs.
Derrick hums the Jaws themesong under his breath. "Night, Rose."
Orion slips quietly into the front room, moving to stand along the wall 
 beside the door as he scans the others here.
Eochaid eases himself into a chair, taking a load off his feet and relaxing 
 some.
Mark looks back at the door to see who came in.
Orion nods curtly but does not venture away from the wall. He slips his 
 slender hands behind him to rest in the small of his back, against the 
 panelling, and offers an understated, "Good evening."
Eochaid smiles gently to the boy, "And a good evening to you, lad. Come and 
 join us, since I don't think that the wall will go anywhere without ye." His 
 tone is light enough with the invitation.
Derrick glances over toward Orion. "Hey there. Long time no see."
Orion cocks his head and blinks slowly at Eochaid a few times before nodding. 
 "No, I hope it is built better than that," he says as he steps toward the 
 others. Finding a seat along another wall, nearer the others, he glances up 
 toward the ceiling as if to reassure himself of that, then turns to Derrick, 
 apparently satisfied. "Yes, it has been too long," he says simply.
Derrick looks up at the ceiling himself, just to make sure. "I'd heard you 
 succeeded on your Rite, but I haven't seen you to congratulate you, even if 
 it is old news. So, congratulations. How has life been since then?"
Orion glances down to his legs folded beneath him and says, "Thank you, 
 Derrick. Everything is well, as of now. Not fretting over my testing has 
 helped make things easier, for certain. How do your lessons go?"
Dillan leans against the fridge from his spot on the counter. Eyes 
 heavy-lidded, he listens vaguely to the conversation. Musta been a rough day.
Derrick shrugs. "Slowly, but surely. I'm certainly inexpert in combat, but my 
 understanding of Garou nature in general is improving by leaps and bounds. 
 I'm too far away from my Rite to start fretting yet, although I suppose 
 there's no time like the present." As usual, he matches Orion's formal 
 phrasing with some slightly more formal phrasing of his own.
Eochaid chuckles at Derrick. "You needn't be an expert in combat to be Garou, 
 lad. Take me for example."
Orion nods, glancing shortly at Eochaid before continuing. "Train well, 
 Derrick. You will need everything you learn and more during your own testing.
  Remember that," he says. "You need not be expert in anything, but keep 
 everything your hear and see." He taps a finger against his head lightly.
Dillan yawns, smacking his lips. "Ain't what Alexander'd say," he mumbles
Mark says "But he's an ahroun."
Orion turns to look at Mark. "I am one as well. Knowledge of battle can only 
 help you succeed so much."
Mark nods. "But an ahroun is expected to become expert at battle while others 
 are expected to become expert in different fields.
Eochaid arches his eyebrows. "Ah. Well, that's different, then."
Derrick grins, and drops into his more familiar tone. "Orion, m'good sir, I am
 most definitely remembering every little scrap of information around here I 
 can get my hands on. And no indeed, not everyone needs to be expert at 
 fighting, and I'm not planning to be... But a hand in every pie is not to be 
 scoffed at."
Mark says "There's a difference between not knowing how to fight and being an 
 expert. Any garou is expected to at least be able to hold their own."
Orion shrugs, an uncharacteristically casual gesture, and says, "We each offer
  what we can. Few can be masters." He falls to finger a hole in the knee of 
 his jeans, then murmurs toward Derrick, "Very true."
Derrick ums, "He didn't say y'had to be an expert."
Mark says "I was referring to Dillan's mention of Alexander."
Derrick looks down at the floor. "Whups."
Orion turns toward Dillan, now, and asks, "What -would- Thunder's Claws-rhya 
 say?"
Dillan lets his eyes drift shut. "Dude would yak at all of you for sayin' only
 the Ahrouns gotta know how to fight. Does not every garou join in on hunts? 
 Everyone's gotta know how to fight a bit."
You say "Right. Which is why I said I was inexpert, not that I wasn't trying 
 to learn."
Eochaid nods slowly. "Aye, but for some of us it isn't as important as other 
 things."
Dillan mmhmms. "'course not... but you still gotta know a bit."
Derrick nods. "And a bit of tracking, and a bit of makin' nice with spirits, 
 and a bit of this and a bit if the other thing."
Orion nods vaguely, still fiddling with the hole in his knee. "Yes. Knowing 
 how to fight is much less important than understanding where true strength is
 found. That is what makes the warrior, not simply training and fighting. That
  is what makes the Garou."
Eochaid shrugs. "Who's saying you don't? I've always thought that cunning can 
 take you further than brute strength." He holds up an arm and encircles a 
 bicep with a hand, "Then again, that's mostly what I've had to work with."
Mark says "There are many ways to fight and many kinds of battle."
Dillan nods slowly. "Well yeah. Like I'm a freakin' beefcake. I'm just 
 sayin'..." He shrugs, adjusting his arms to make himself more comfortable.
Derrick stares at a spot of air in confusion for a moment, then grins at 
 Orion. "Right. Be good at what you _can_ be good at, and don't beat yourself 
 up for not bein' good at everything. Everyone has different skills. Thank 
 God. World'd be boring place if we were all the same."
Orion points toward Mark, nodding. "You speak with wisdom. Battles are not 
 always found in the Wyrm, or even outside of ourselves. Sometimes," he says,
  turening to Derrick, "Finding your place is one of the most difficult 
 battles you face."
Derrick looks at a rather ragged fingernail carefully. "Um... Yes. I'm rather 
 aware of that fact." Looking up at Orion, he says, "I rather suspect that 
 some of us had a harder time of it than others, but," he says, examining his 
 nail again, "in proportion, I'm having an interesting time of it as well."
"Hey, Derrick," Dillan mumbles, "I ain't told you yet, but check it. Alexander
 says I can head whever I want in the Bawn now, an' to the Caern, an' even to
 the umbral side of the Caern."
Dante walks downstairs, looking around.
Derrick looks up at Dillan. "Umbraside, too? Dude. Good show."
Eochaid is lounging in a chair, watching the other garou with mild curiousity.
Dante flops into a couch.
Derrick, lounging on a chair, grins at Dante. "Hey."
Dante smiles. "Hey, Derrick."
Dante says "What's going on?"
Derrick sums up. "We're havin' a semi-philosophical debate on fighting, 
 finding your place in life, and not hating yourself for what you don't (or 
 can't) know."
Dillan hmms. "My solution? Don't worry, be happy."
Eochaid smirks at Dillan. "Works for me."
Dante ahhs. "Teenage angst. My speciality."
Derrick stares at Eochaid and Dillan in horror. "Just don't start singing it, 
 guys, and I'll be happy."
Eochaid shrugs. "Would you rather me sing Barney songs?"
Orion idly listens to the banter for a few moments, then smoothly rises, 
 unbending his legs easily. Muttering a good bye, he steps to the door and 
 slips out as he came in.
Dante puffs up, doing a very good voice imitation of TC/Alexander. "You pups 
 think too much like humans."
Dillan says "I love you, you love me, I'm gonna whack your ass out gee..."
Eochaid chuckles.
Dillan, eyes still shut, quietly answers Dante. "Don't mind if I do."
Dante looks around at the suddenly quiet room. "Was it something I said?"
Eochaid shakes his head. "Nae, lad. Just being pensive for a bit."
You say "Me, I'm just spacy. I'm good at that. Dillan'll tell you..."
Dillan nods "Mhhhhmmm."
A tentative knocking sounds at the door.
Eochaid gets up out of his chair and walks into the kitchen, fixing himself 
 something to drink and eat. He rummages through the kitchen before finally 
 settling down to fix a stir fry, drinking a couple shots of whiskey while 
 doing so.
Eochaid calls out over his shoulder, "Could either of you find out who that 
 is? My hands are tied."
Dillan moves slightly, once or twice, being inconviently in Eochaid's way. 
 Sitting on the countertop does that. He sprawls back out alongside the fridge.
Derrick ambles over to the door, and opens it. "H'lo, c'mon in?"
Chloe steps in from the porch, closing the front door behind her.
Derrick closes the door behind Chloe. "Heya..."
Chloe slips through the doorway with a trace of startlement in her 
 expression; this increases when she scans the livingroom and finds Eochaid's 
 evidently familiar face. A swallow twists her throat, and she glances down, 
 hiding the marks on one cheek with a little turn of her head. "Evening--I'm 
 just looking for Bri-- for Echen."
Dillan's in the kitchen, sitting on top of the countertop. He's half-asleep, 
 propped up beside the fridge. "So who, -yaaawn-, is it?"
The girl's voice is quiet, unsettled, and touched with fatigue.
Derrick backs up slightly. "I dunno. Hanven't seen him in awhile. He should be
 around, though."
Eochaid is in the kitchen, busily making a stirfry between sips of whiskey. 
 He's humming something light and airy to himself. He stops suddenly as he 
 hears Chloe's voice and he turns around to validate her existance in the 
 house. Quickly hiding a frown, he smiles at her, saying, "I havn't seen him 
 today, lass."
Dillan furrows his brow, one eyelid opening a sliver. "Ain't no-one I ever 
 heard before..." he peers at the doorway between kitchen and livingroom, then
  twists his head to Eochaid, who must have a better angle. 'Who is it?' he 
 mouthes, stage-whispering.
A few faint lines etch into the girl's forehead, and she looks toward the door
 uncertainly. "Eochaid..." The black eyes look back to the Fianna, and a hint
 of strain shows in them. "Should I go?"
Derrick wrinkles his brow, and retreats toward the kitchen. "Why should she 
 leave," he prison whispers toward Eochaid.
Eochaid shakes his head. "Why should you, lass," he asks civilly. "I don't see
 why you can't stay here for a while. Would you like some stir-fry?" He turns
 to address Dillan and says in a low voice, "Unless things have changed, 
 that's Brian, our Alpha's, mate."
A beam of comprehension lights Derrick's face. "Hey, cool. Then you're Chloe,"
 he says, directly to Chloe. "Nice to meet you. Want a brownie?"
Dillan props his one open eye open a touch more. "Mmph? Crazy mad." He 
 stretches and sits up straight, inadvertently banging his head against the 
 cupboards above. He lets out a quiet yelp of complaint and surprise, a hand 
 lifted to the back of his head.
Eochaid hesitates for a second before turning back to his cooking. He rather 
 quickly drains the glass of whiskey beside him as he browns up the rice. 
 "So," he calls back to the lady in a conversational tone, "what have ye been 
 up to?"
Chloe follows the questions with slightly shocked eyes, blinking a few times. 
 "Ummm... no thanks," she murmurs, almost absently. She gives Eochaid an 
 utterly confused look, and adds by way of clarification, "Fasting."
Derrick heads to the kitchen himself, then, and grabs a brownie. Coming back, 
 he says, after clearing his mouth, "I thought nuns were the only ones who did
 that kinda stuff. Well, nuns and anorexics."
Eochaid nods slowly, pouring himself another shot of whiskey, and downing it 
 quickly as well. "Well, that's up to you," he says with his back to her, 
 still keeping his tone mildly civil. He works quickly on slicing up strips of
 pork, as if distracting himself.
Chloe wraps both arms around herself nervously, and paces into the kitchen; 
 her posture betrays restlessness, a certain restrained energy.
Dillan hops off of the counter, hand still plastered to the back of his head. 
 He rubs the spot vigorously then shrugs it off. He stuffs both hands in his 
 pockets and moves to watch Eochaid's cooking.
Derrick moves aside to let Chloe past, and then leans against the doorframe.
Chloe moves to stand a safe distance behind Eochaid's shoulder. "Need help?" 
 Her voice is hoarse and remains soft.
Eochaid pauses, turning to consider the girl carefully. After a moment of 
 thought he gestures to the fridge, "Aye. I could use some mushrooms, onions 
 and a bell pepper or two."
Glancing over his shoulder the Shadow Lord cub sneaks a glance at this 
 supposed VIP. He lifts a brow surreptitiously, a quiet 'whoa' mumbled under 
 his breath. "Uh... erm, I'll, just move outta the way, or something." He 
 heads to the other side of the kitchen, to stand over by Derrick.
One side of the girl's mouth curves upward, in an expression that isn't quite a smile. She nods and moves to get the requested groceries, leaning down to rummage through drawers.
Derrick leans as nonchalantly as possible.
Eochaid grimly takes another shot of whiskey as he adds some soy sauce to the rice and pork, the smoke billowing forth from the wok. He quickly punches the overhead fan to let the smoke ventilate out as he stirs the mix by shaking the wok.
"Knife?" the girl murmurs, as she drops a few onions and peppers onto the counter. She edges past Eochaid to wash them, and the mushrooms. The dark eyes glance once or twice, sidelong, toward the strangers.
Eochaid breaks off from sifting the mix long enough to pull out the cutlery and hand it to Chloe avoiding her gaze.
Dillan conveniently stare ceilingwards half the time. He nudges Derrick, "Hey."
Derrick nudges back. "What?"
A swallow twists the girl's throat as she takes a paring knife. She starts chopping, wordlessly, this time keeping her eyes lowered. Her expression shifts toward a more intense, brooding look.
"Where the heck you been lately?" With Chloe's back turned, and Derrick's attention his, Dillan makes a thumbs up as he speaks, obviously not referring to where the Silver Fang's been.
"Around, about, stuff like that. Mostly out in the woods." Derrick suppresses a grin at Dillan's thumb, and puts two of his up.
"Eochaid?" The girl's voice is almost a whisper. "What is it?"
Eochaid sighs heavily, putting down his kitchen utensils. "What do you want from me?"
Dillan nods vigorously - once again, not at the conversation. "Ohyeah. I guess you were into that stuff before, eh?" He winks and goes back to a casual lean against the doorjam.
Derrick keeps his gaze on the girl. "I... certainly was. And am."
Dillan mmmhmms distractedly. "Yeah. Definetly."
Chloe looks back to him, a little confused. "I was just wondering what was wrong," she says simply, looking a little pained. Her eyes return to her copping, which grows a touch more forceful. "That's all. You seem upset."
Eochaid takes the wok off the burner before turning to the girl and folding his arms, looking down at her with his mismatched eyes. "That's my problem, lass. You're expecting something from me, for me to do something, and I'm tired of trying to second-guess you." His gaze lowers a few degress in tempurature. "So what is it that you want from me?"
Derrick nudges Dillan. "You getting more of an appreciation for the woods 'n stuff?"
"Appreciation? Oh, yeah, for sure. The sights, wow." Dillan replies. As Eochaid's focus turns, the Shadow Lord decides the ceiling is awful interesting again.
Chloe studies the Fianna, with a faintly stricken expression. She blinks a few times, looking almost numbly back at him, uncomprehending. The knife slips from her hand and falls, hitting the floor with an abrupt thunk. "I don't understand." She bends to pick up the knife, quickly, and then returns her attention to the vegetables. "I'll just finish this, and leave, yes?"
Derrick offers a napkin to clean the knife with.
Eochaid's eyes narrows, almost dangerously, "No. You're not running away from this, not until you come clean with me, lass. It's a fairly simple question, I thought. What do you want from me?"
Chloe misses the offer as Eochaid's words get her attention. She stares at Eochaid, unsettled; her right hand sets the knife aside with an automatic, unaware movement. "I don't want anything, Eochaid--" A hint of will touches her voice this time, strength, and her posture is wire-taut.
"Well... so much for the happily family reunion." Dillan retreats into the livingroom, regardless of what decision his hormones would have made.
Eochaid folds his arms, scowling. "So what would you like me to do," he asks, trying to keep his voice from being as icy it ends up being.
Derrick watches Dillan retreat, but doesn't leave himself, yet.
Chloe takes a small step back, glancing over her shoulder as if uncertain of the remaining stranger's position; the dark eyes flick back to Eochaid instantly. Strain sounds in her voice. "I don't want anything. I don't understand what you're upset about."
Eochaid's fists clench in aggrivation. "Why won't you understand? I just want to know what you want from me. I have no idea how to treat you, how you want to be treated, weather or not you want me to leave you the fuck alone. Bloody christ, it's not that difficult, you've got to have some sort of opinion."
Derrick backs up from the force of Eochaid's anger. He glances at Chloe and shrugs a confused, harmless shrug.
Chloe backs away another step, eyes widening. She blinks a few times, and then says rather tensely, "I--thought we were friends, Eochaid. I don't ask anything of you, I don't expect anything. Especially not now." With a twist of her expression, she turns back to the counter and leans on it with both hands; the black eyes dart to Derrick, and she gives him a helpless look.
Eochaid snaps his attention away from the girl and back to the wok, putting it back ont he burner, mumbling darkly to himself in gaelic. He reaches over to take what was cut of the vegitables and adds it to the concoction.
Derrick mumbles, "I should be used to not understanding anything by now," and lowers his gaze to the wok in confusion.
"Join the club," mumbles Dillan, from nearby around the doorjam.
Chloe just blinks a few times at Eochaid's back, looking thoroughly nonplussed. Then, tentatively, she touches a hand to his shoulder.
Eochaiddoesn't seem to feel the touch, as he's focused on fixing his dinner.
Derrick lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
After a moment's time the girl's hand drifts back down. She, too, lets out a breath, a quiet sound of frustration. "Luna guide you," she says simply, before turning away and walking out into the livingroom. Her head remains slightly bowed, her forehead creased with worry, as she paces the room's length.
Dillan seems a bit startled at Chloe's entrance into the livingroom. He pokes his head around the corner catching a good view of Eochaid's back. Eventally, he relaxes and perches back on the couch arm he'd been sitting on, watching the pacing in a feigned uninterestedness.
Derrick, after a last stare at the Wok, turns toward the living room.
Eochaid's mumbles in Gaelic can still almost be heard over the sounds of cooking stirfry. He takes the wok off the heat again and turns to finish chopping the vegitables.
Derrick plunks onto the couch and grabs a magazine, which he then proceeds not to read.
After a few moments, the young woman stops and takes a breath, bringing herself to the present and glancing toward both of them. "Sorry," she murmurs, almost absently. "I should just go." Her look in the direction of the kitchen holds bewilderment and a hint of anger, until she looks back to the two strangers. "Some other time, maybe." The curve of her lips holds more irony than humor.
Derrick looks up. "Well, ma'am... Gaia guide you. Or something. I'm Derrick, by the way. Pleased to have met you." He doesn't look at the kitchen, but he's holding the magazine a bit tightly.
Eochaid growls to the wok, "What other time?"
Dillan sorta waves, a pair of fingers extended on his hand. "Er, sure thing..." He fidgets for a moment, scratching an ear idly, the fidgeting ceasing once he finds a comfortable spot behind his back to rest his hands.
Eochaid adds the last of the vegitables, stirring the whole fry around to get it to cook evenly. "You should at least stay for some of this stir fry," he calls back, trying very hard to be civil. "I've made too much."
Long distance to Eochaid: Derrick says brightly, "Stir fry and conversation! It'll be perfect!"
Derrick clamps his mouth shut.
Dillan ditto.
A pained look flickers across the girl's features, intensified by the blood-rust lines across the side of her face. "It's okay," she answers, looking toward him. "I was just going." Resolutely, without anything else, she ducks her head and makes her way to the door.
Chloe leaves through the front door. You can hear the screen door swing shut again with a clatter.
Dillan watches Chloe's departure. Intently. He sorta slumps after she's gone, a great amount of tension unwound. "Whoa."
Eochaid nods slowly. "May the moon light your destiny, lass," he says. Silently he spoons a bowful of stir fry into a bowl and begins to eat it with some amount of savagery.
Derrick continues not to read his magazine.
Dillan pokes his head into the kitchen, the rest of his body following, in that way that things that are attatched to other things (like heads to bodies) tend to do. "Uh so, like... what was that all 'bout? Or is this one of those things where the cubs stay quiet and pray they don't end up on the wrong side of a frenzy?""
Eochaid smirks at Dillan, trying to keep it from being too feral. "You catch on quick, lad."
Dillan snaps his fingers and flashes a car-salesman grin. "I'll be in the livingroom preying."
Derrick turns the magazine upside down, to form a little church roof.
Eochaid shoves another mouthfull of food into his mouth. "Ask me again a copule days from now," he says around the stir fry. "I'll do my best to explain."
Fron the livingroom, Dillan replies. "No worries. I was just trying that idle conversation thing. Uh... ignore it."
Eochaid shakes his head. "There's a lesson to be learned from it, lad."
Dillan nudges Derrick. 'Your turn to talk,' he mumbles to the other cub.
Derrick looks up at Dillan. "Best thing I can come up with is "What lesson would that be, sir?", and that's sort of lame, y'know?"
Dillan smirks. "Thanks."
Eochaid turns around so that the cubs don't feel like they have to talk to him, as he grabs the bottle of whiskey and drinks heavily from it.
Dillan shrugs, and yawns. "Uhm, well, later sounds good. Uh..." He glances at Derrick, confused "Anwyays, I'm gonna call it a night. Running from banes is tiring."
Derrick contemplates Eochaid's back for a moment, then blinks at Dillan. "Yeah, I was kinda thinking the same thing, minus the banes. Have a good one..."