(Brittany is a Silver Fang rather despised by most, but Derrick, both as a cub and later in life, has always thought of her as his mentor, and is both quite fond of her, and respects her, even while he acknowledges her flaws.)

A hatrack stands unobtrusively in one corner, Derrick's fedora perhed on it.

Brittany releases a quiet, "Oh joyous, some civilization," and crosses over to set her hat up. That done, she turns, and smiles, finally taking the full measure of the lad.

Derrick looks back at her, curiously. "Are you one of the sort of people I should know?"

Brittany: Standing six feet in height and supermodel-slim, with unusual white hair, ice-blue eyes, and classic beauty, this woman is eyecatching in any crowd. Her face is angular, with fine white brows arching over alluring eyes and soft lips. Her skin is pale and flawless, her movements graceful and well-disciplined.

She is wearing a simple white swing dress, elegant in its simplicity. She is wearing a pair of moderate heels that match her outfit. For jewelry, she has a medium-length string of pearls and teardrop-shaped pearl earrings.

Brittany nods, stepping back into the light. "Indeed I am, young mister Herr. I, in fact, am the reason you are here, now." She leans forward, extending her hand, "Miss Brittany Jefferson, of the Virginia Jeffersons."

Derrick hms, moving further into the kitchen. "Ah? In what sense, ma'am? The sort of sense where you discovered who I am, or in the sort of sense where you employed my Dad? I mean, there's several possibilities, this being a less than normal situation." He takes her hand, shaking it firmly (but not too firmly). "You seem to know me already, but I'm Frederick Herr, better known as Derrick. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Brittany nods, pulling her gloves off once the handshake is broken. "A good mind for details. Very nice." She turns to the table, tucking her wrist-gloves into her bag, then turning back around. "I am the one who first noticed your hidden talents, and decided that you should be brought in. I informed Timothy, whom you met in less than ideal circumstances, and he, in turn, brought you here."

Derrick detours around Brittany, heading for the fridge. "Care for something to drink, ma'am?" With his back turned to her, the only reaction she hears to her words are a heavy sigh. "Ah. I was sort of wondering how you folks found out I'm one of the more flexible people in St. Claire. I actually had thought my parents had said something to someone, although the somewhat abrupt nature of my departure seemed to make this less than logical."

Long distance to Brittany: Derrick eeps. "Geez, you've made him practically *polite*. How on earth can this be happening!?"

Brittany walks to the book, herself, answering, "A brandy, if you could?" She glances over the page shown, then closes it, to see the cover, one brow arching a moment. Later, she adds, "I am sorry for that. The first contact is always the most difficult, and none of my companions have ever seen fit to practice or master the art, in preperation. If there is anything I can do to make the adjustment easier, please, do not hesitate to ask."

Brittany closes the burgundy-bound tome carefully.

Derrick erps, and scrabbles about for a moment in search of the liquor cabinet. "Now where... Aha! Got it." Removing the brandy from the cabinet, he then goes in search of a proper glass. "Too small, too large, not the right shape..." he mutters, and then seizes upon the proper glass. Pouring the liquid, he comments, "First contact'd be a bit easier if they explained *anything* while they went about their business. I mean, cheese, they just..." he trails off. "You don't want my complaints, actually."

You say "And as to what you can do... I don't know, start at the beginning and explain exactly who the heck I now appear to BE?"

Long distance to Brittany: Derrick demands nothing in particular, just an explanation of everything that exists. *grin*

Derrick hands Brittany her brandy and gets a Coke for himself.

Brittany moves behind a chair, leaning forward against it as she thinks. "Always a long story, this. Before I can press on to the tale, I suppose I need know how much of the index you have read." She accepts the brandy gratefully, an angelic smile shown, then asks, "What have you been told so far? Something, I am assured of, lest you simply have walked out ere now."

Derrick gets some ice and a glass, and takes them into the living room. Perching on the arm of the couch, he grins. "That? I haven't read any of it. I sort of figured, it's not mine, and given the position I'm in, I shouldn't be futzing with other people's stuff unless they say I can. And I haven't been able to ask anyone if it's ok."

Derrick says, "As to what I've been told..." He pauses, looking up for a minute. "Well, I'm a Garou, I'm a Cub, I'm a Silver Fang (whatever that is), I should respect 'most everyone else, being as they're not cubs, um..."

Brittany blinks, then chuckles softly as she looks to the book. "No, no, pardon me, I seem to have mislead in my choice of metaphor. Not the actual book, which, I must admit, is quite impressive, but, rather, the situation you now find yourself in."

You say "Oh, yes, I should call those folks who aren't cubs "rhya...""

Derrick amends, "I should call people "rhya," rhya."

You say "I was probably told more, but to be honest, I was pretty damn confused and tired, so I'm a bit fuzzy."

Brittany swishes her drink, listening, then takes a microscopic sample, before saying, "Very well, you know the bare bones. More needs to be told before the other cubs here blabber without thought." She colors some, and sets her glass aside, adding, "As for the honorific of 'Rhya', think of it as a combination of Mister and Miss. Used in social situations, or when first referring to one not here, but not used for your friends or other close ties. The rest of the farmhouse occupants, for example, need no 'Rhya' appelation."

Brittany opens the burgundy-bound text.

Derrick shifts on his perch, and opens the can of Coke. "Um. Timothy made it sound... er, that is, Timothy-rhya made it sound as if I should be adding rhya to everything that moved." He grins briefly. "Anyway, that's mostly minor, methinks. I'd more like to know... Well, what all this *entails*. And I don't mean this house, either."

Derrick notes, with a little longing in his voice, "that's a *really* beautiful book, from what I can see."

Brittany nods, glancing over the book one last time, before choosing a seat, smoothing her skirt out gracefully as she takes rest. "It is. Marvelously done." She looks from the work to the youth, and says, "What you will be introduced to over the next few weeks will come hard to believe, and may well test your beliefs to the limits, but, I assure you, it is all real. You will have met Orion before long, and you will see but the first example of a world you never knew existed."

Derrick doesn't disagree. "Well, I mean, I already knew vaguely about, well, the fact that Garou exist. I just didn't really *know*, if you see what I mean. And someone mentioned Gaia, and various sort of tangible evidences of Gaia, which, once I see *them*, are probably gonna strain my credibility more than werewolves."

Derrick comments, "Evidence that God actually exists is probably harder to deal with than someone changing shape, at least to me."

Brittany nods. "It can. I was blessed with being raised in a household that was open about the truth from day one. I admit, having to bring someone 'into the fold' as it were is not easy for me, but I will do my best." She pauses, obviously thinking, before saying, "The best comparison I can come up with would be Orthodox Christianity, where God is Gaia, and the spirits are Her angels. They are a divine thing, who live in a realm we cannot comprehend, who serve a greater will, and are born into servitude. They should be revered, and always treated with respect. Other beliefs are not, of course, your own, and you should reject or accept those teachings as you see fit."

Derrick takes a sip of his Coke. Upon hearing the comparison to Orthodox Christianity, he shakes his head. "Thing is with them is, I mean the Christians, that is, is that God's so *remote*. I mean, you hear about miracles, but they happen to someone ELSE. Not *you*. From what someone told me, Gaia and company are *there*, right up close." He pauses. "What IS the Wyrm, anyway?" Thinking this seeming non-sequitur needs some explanation, he says, "It kinda seems like it's the anti-Gaia, but I wasn't sure, which is why I brought it up."

Brittany nods. "Again, the perceptive youth. The Wyrm, as it now exists, is, indeed, something of an Anti-Gaia. Where She breathes life, He breathes Death. More than death, He is destruction and entropy. In time, all falls before the Wyrm. Things die. That is simply the way things are. The Wyrm, now maddened, seeks to hurry this, however, to cut short the natural life as quickly as it can, until everything is destroyed. Once all is gone, the Wyrm can, itself, die, and thus will end everything. That is, as we call it, The Apocolypse. Needless to say, we battle against this."

Derrick grins, seemingly to himself. "Fighting Entropy in all its guises? Hey, I'm a fan." He puts the Coke on the table and slides down into the couch, becoming less amused. "Y'know, every time one of you says one sentence, about 20 questions spurt up in my brain. For one thing, this seems to be a pretty serious fight - people aren't just going to walk away, yes? For another, um, how'd the Wyrm go mad? (And that's just the first two questions that occur to me. I'm going light on you.)"

Brittany says "Many questions at every turn, hmm? You certainly show your Auspice. Let me attempt to adress those in turn." She takes her glass, sips again, holding it in both hands as she forms words, then slowly, she says, "This is not a fight, but a war. A war that has been fought for centuries, and that will continue to be fought for centuries more. As in any war, there are casualties. It is inevitable, but no less a shame. Life is precious, and should be cherished, no matter the form. As for how..." She sighs, setting the glass aside again, then says, "We may never know. There are assorted theories, of course, but the one I personally hold to is that, as entorpy embodied, the Wyrm's power was so great that it damaged even itself. A cancer brought about by the need to destroy all." She glances over to the scraggly youth, and asks, "Does that make sense to you?""

Derrick rests his hands on his shin, with his head almost on his knee, and nods slightly, making sure not to bonk himself. "Right. I meant a war. 'Fighting Entropy in all its forms' is... sort of a quote. And... life should be precious anyway. A lotta people tend to ignore it while it's there, though. Which is..." He seems to lack words. "Sort of sacreligious, except I'm not religious, but you get my point." He sighs. "Man, I'm going on tangents. I'm sorry." He looks up, fixing his gaze on a non-localized point. "Um... what did I want to say? Oh. Right. Auspice? Whassat?"

Derrick mumbles to himself, "So the Wyrm's sort of like cancer... eating away at its own host."

Brittany chuckles softly. "Auspice. There is a belief amoung the Garou, well founded, I should note, that the phase of the moon determines an aspect of your destiny. Those of the Full Moon, for example, are heady with Her power, prone to brash emotion and devastating fighting skills. Those of the Crescent are blessed... and cursed... with visions of the future. Prophets, as it were, whom dance with the spirits. Those of the New Moon, like yourself, are born in darkness and always seek the light. Questioners, curious, and inherantly rebelleous."

Derrick grins in delight. "Hey. That *does* fit me to a T. Curious, and not immediately accepting of much, for that matter. I mean," he says candidly, "it's a little hard to believe all this," he says, meaning both Garou and Wyrm, and everything else in between, "when I haven't even seen someone shift form. And, I mean, I'm supposed to fight in a war just because I'm some guy who can turn into a wolf, not that I've turned into a wolf lately, mind." He stops. "I'm not saying I'm gonna be some jerk who refuses to do anything. It just sounds... Extremely odd. Speaking of odd, what IS a Silver Fang? Isn't that an odd name for a werewolf, being as werewolves are sort of sensitive to silver and all?" He stops this rush of words with a large gulp of Coke.

Brittany nods, standing up, and setting her glass aside. "Once you see Orion, you will see the horrible joke that the WYrm can pull, the cancer of the outside that shows in anyone or anything corrupted on the inside, but that is not enough. You wish to see an example of Gaia. Fortunatly, you have a Silver Fang here, and ever have we turned back the darkness of ignorance for the brilliant light of knowledge." With her words, her dress and hair begin to waver, then dance, from an unseen wind. As the dance grows, so does a light about her. First, you might be convinced it was simply walking into a sunbeam, but as the light grows, you know that it comes from within. Soon, like an angel, she stands surrounded in a nimbus of white, a halo of fire about her crown, the unseen wind filling her every motion. "Look upon me, cub, and see Gaia, and know that you are Chosen."

Derrick stands up in a hurry. "That... is impressive," he says, split between backing up to get a better view and getting closer to get a different kind of better view. He stays where he is, instead, and drinks it in.

Brittany smiles, then, slowly, allows the glow to fade. Soon, it is as if she had never displayed her full glory, and she sinks into the chair, obviously drained from the effort. "Not something you connect to a werewolf, I am sure, but nonetheless, it is within your heritage."

Derrick resumes his perch on the couch. "Anything I can do to help? You look kinda tired."

Brittany shakes her head. "No, no, worry not. I shall recover in short order. Yet anothe rof Gaia's gifts, and one that you share with all Garou, regardless of their lineage."

Derrick says, "Ah. I see," and stares into space for a minute. "Um. How would I know if I have gifts like that?" He pauses, and then is reminded of something else. "Y'know, you referred to Orion sort of pityingly, and Timorthy told me not to talk to him... What's the deal with that?"

Brittany says "We will test you, in time, to see what was bequeathed to you upon your birth. UNtil that time, you should concentrate on learning new things, such as our words, and symbols." At the mention of Orion, she tenses, ever so slightly, then says, "Orion is what we call a 'Metis', or The Deformed. His parents commited a heinous crime, and the punishment for this is visited upon their child. Each Metis bears the mark of the Wyrm in some way or another, and tehir time is short in life. Unlike you or I, they are denied a true soul, and are condemmed throughout their life. Sometimes, if they suffer enough, and dedicate themselves to good, they can earn a soul ere they die, but, the majority of the time, they die and fall fully to the Wyrm, the last blow against those who would sire a deformed one."

Derrick gets off of his perch, wanders over to a wall, and leans against it. "I," he pronounces, "am always willing to learn more. Some of it may even stick in my brain."

Brittany smiles, saying, "I should hope so. This is the lesson of the blood."

Derrick looks confused. "And what was the parents' crime, that rebounds on the children and punishes them as well?"

Brittany says "That would be to Charach, the Garou word for incest."

Derrick quirks an eyebrow. "No offense, but some folks say humans sort of instinctively know stuff, too. That doesn't make it any less easy for some folks to be total dullards at it."

Derrick looks considerably more understanding now. "Oh! Gotcha. Bastards aren't well thought of anywhere."

Brittany chuckles softly. "No no, by the Lesson of teh Blood, I refer not to instincts, but to understanding. To learning, to growth, and most of all, to change.

Brittany pauses, tyring to frame a concept.

Derrick kicks his heel backwards, into the wall. "You're... being less clear than you were."

Brittany says "The culture of the Garou is like a living thing. There are those lessons that are inviolate, that are essential to what we are. These are the Lessons of the Bone, because without a bone, a creature cannot live. Also, there are the Lessons of the Blood, which represents what changes, either over time or swiftly. Without the blood, the fluid force of change, the Garou would stagnate and become rigid and imobile, and, in this way, die. Without the bone, we would constantly change, until there was no past. This, too, would destroy us. Only with a careful balance can we thrive."

You say "Oh! That makes a lot more sense. Stuff like language, and to some extent social customs, they change."

You say "I mean, think about Chaucer."

Brittany nods. "There you go."

Derrick thinks. "I dunno the Bone lessons, but I suspect they'd be sort of like the Ten Commandments or something."

Brittany says "In essence. Some are instinctual... you will find that once you have embraced your Garou nature, some things simple _are_. The scents will make sense, even without words. It cannot be described, only experienced. Other Bone Lessons are like the commandments, called The Litany. Others are stories, or fables, to show foolishness that came from excessive change." She smiles, here, "Take heart, Ragabash, that there are also tales that glorify leaving behind the safety of a static nature when you must, lest you become stone.""

Derrick grins. "Like a rushing river, I am..." He slides down the wall, sitting on a pillow beneath him. "Oddly enough, I'm really, really, really, looking forward to *being* able to accept like that, and for that matter, my first controlled change. I want to have a *tail*," he says in rapturous tones. He plays back what Brittany just said, frowning a little. "That Litany. It sounds capitalized. This is something I should know? Something you're gonna wait for other folks to tell me?"

Brittany grins, an odd girlish expression for such a cultured woman, and says, "It is captialized, yes. Containing those few laws we need, and, as such, important to know. It will, most likely, fall to me to teach these, as the others have only a passing knowledge while law is my life. I, by the way, am a Halfmoon, Who Weighs the Balance. It falls to us to control the blood of the Ragabash with the bone of teh Ahroun, and keep society moving at a healthy pace."

Derrick jacks himself up the wall again. "But you're not going to tell me now," he says, not exactly asking a question. "Could you at least tell me what being a Silver Fang *means*?"

Brittany says "Actually, I have already told you the first law. Garou Shall Not Mate With Garou. That is to say, incest is not allowed. Comitting such a sin sondems any child of this union to suffer the touch of the Wyrm that would, otherwise, go to the crime-comitters. The sterile thing that is created is not worth the few moments of passion. Keep your love for the humans, or, if you prefer, for the wolves." She colors, here, before saying, "I reccomend humans strongly. As for being a Silver Fang..."

Brittany takes a deep breath, then says, "Today, being of the First Tribe of the Wolves with Fangs of Silver is not as it once was. In the past, we were royalty, like the Kings of Europe, the genetic dynasty of rulership. While we still hold such a lofty place, now, it is more in line with the British Monarchy: Figureheads, more than anything. It is a deep shame.

Derrick perks up. "Ah. Didn't realize that was one of the Laws. I didn't mean you weren't telling me *anything*, ma'am, I just meant that... What *did* I mean. I guess I meant that a thorough covering of the Laws would be useful if I don't want to do something heinous. I mean, being a human all my life gave me a good idea of the Root Things of being human, but I dunno Garou Root Things yet. If you see what I mean."
Derrick says with a smile, "I can live till later, though."

Brittany says "Indeed I do. I am the Halfmoon, after all." Again, she smiles. "I am certain that you will have questions on each, so I teach them slowly, until you are satisfied and ready to move on."

Brittany asks, "Are you ready for the second law?"

Derrick winces slightly. "Ah. But we still have to Rule Our Kind and Be Responsible and Live Up To Our Heritage, do we?" Many of these words are rather obviously capitalized.
Derrick reviews the First Law, muttering. "Don't mate with other Garou, just wolves or humans, otherwise you get a sort of twisted Garou offspring, really annoying and dire things happen to you, and your offspring is outcast for no good reason." He looks up. "Check. I've got it. I think I can deal with the Second now."

Brittany nods. "In essence, you are now a member of the Royal Family, and expected to behave that way. Yes, it is unfair, and, yes, more will be required of you, but that is simply the way things are. With the efforts of a faction of our tribe, called Renewal, in America, the King is virtually unheeded. All is more Democratic, or Tyrnaical, depending upon whom you ask. But later for ;politics, we center on the law, today."

Brittany says "The Second Law is as follows: Combat the Wyrm where it dwells and whenever it breeds. A rather simple Law, but it reminds us of why we are."

Derrick nods. "Check. Fight and fight and live fiercely and love fiercely and probably die fiercely. Got it."
Derrick abandons politics for the moment. His parents never understood what he meant; why would Brittany?

[And thus endeth the scene.]