Kin Thief [Louis de Laine]

[Linnea Bartlett] Louis de Laine was given direction to take the train to the Bryn Mawr station, there met by a car, whisked away to Red Leaf, the Bartlett family home. It is not Linnea's home - no longer, her duties take her well and away from the place - but it is her mother's home, the home of her sisters and her brothers, a rambling Tudor Revival built on the ashes of a Greek revival built on the fields of what was once a gentleman's farm. The original homestead remains intact on the property, preserved. To a Silver Fang from the continent, the old estate is terribly young - but after the hosts of suburban outgrowth, minimansions, weaver expansion - perhaps the extensive grounds, sere with winter, are a relief.

Inside, Mssr de Laine is greeted by a lovely middle aged woman, well-dressed and composed, deeply respectful and polite. She offers him refreshment, makes small talk, light and effervescent, and soon escorts him to the study where her daughter is waiting. The daughter is nothing light her: a teenager, better dressed than is her wont, with none of her mother's loveliness. She does have a certain raw charm, subdued in her mother's presence, beneath her mother's watchful eye - and flashes a brief smile to Louis, greets him and introduces herself (perhaps again, perhaps for the first time) and invites him to sit.

[Louis de Laine] If Mssr de Laine feels at all superior in regards to the relative youthful [lesser] apperance of the Red Leaf estate, he does a find job of hiding it... or, at least, not layuing it on heavily. A lean musceled man in his late 30s, Louis is perhaps the embodiement of the American idea of Europeans, especially the French. He is stylish, he appears to be charmingly, politely bored, he is sensual in manner most delectable, saved from being effeminite purely from a definite masculine underscoring to his style and manner. Regal. Well-bred. But a killer bneathe it all and it has a way of seeping through.

He woos the Matron Bartlett with an easy tounge, a sleek accent, and intelligent, interesting talk.. that still means nothing whatsoever at the end of the day. It is, after all, not a middle-aged Kinwoman he came all the way from France to see. It isn't even his own cousin who drew him here, though, of course, she will get a visit. No, an Adren Philodox of the Silver Fangs does not just travel a good distance to chit-chat with extended - very extended - family members. Beneath all the small talk one must no doubt wonder just what brings this old-world Duke to these shores...

...when Linnea enters his smile is just as smooth, just as patiently charming even if tinged with that aloof air of the European.... a distance belied by the intensity in his gaze. Rage ever-present, though tempered through the gifts of his Auspice and his Rank. When the proper introductions are made [in the old manner he gives his fully titles and a hefty amount of his linneage, beginning at Louis 'Balance of Falcon's Wings' de Laine, Adren Philodox of House Gleaming Eye and proceeding from there., he smiles graciously at Linnea and her mother, though he suave words still carry a definite weight to theme:
"Madame Bartlett, perhaps you would be so kind as to allow myself and your dauther a moment to speak of business? It is a bit of a twisted affair and I would not wish to trouble you with such matters." Excellently worded as a request, charming enough to avoid seeming completely condescening... but there is ever indication that he expects them to humour this desire of a visiting Adren.

...once they are, presumably, alone, the man looks back to Linnea, studying her close enough to perhaps set in the urge to squirm, speaking quietly, largely to himself, and in his native French. "I swear as each year goes by we seem to become younger or more dead, with precious little inbetween..."
Blinking, the musing quality leaves voice and features and he clears his throat. "Mlle. Bartlett... have you, perhaps, chanced to meet my cousin, the Kinfolk Giselle de Laine, daughter of my uncle Gustav de Laine, Harbringer of Raptor's Talons, Athro Ahroun of House Gleaming Eye and WyrmFoe of the Sept of Gaia's Bounty?"

[Linnea Bartlett] Linnea's mother does indeed absent herself, leaving the Garou to their business. When introductions are given, Linnea - at odds with her gawky appearance, and perhaps her own casual regard for such things, at least in the company of those of other tribes - responds with her own, with all due ceremony - a litany of names, deeds, titles, houses, lodges - history distilled to its essence, as is appropriate, as is respectful when receiving an Adren of the Silver Fangs.

French is not one of the languages Linnea was taught, and she so watches him briefly, not-quick-blankly, picking up the two or three words that translate across spanish and english. The girl responds momentarily, a quick shake of her head. At the Sept, she wears her hair in a functional braid. Here, someone has tamed her locks into something more formal and fitting - something softer. It was not Linnea's own hand. "So sir," she says, quietly - the rhya not present, but certainly implied by her circumspect tone. "I - I haven't met her."

[Louis de Laine] "Mmm," He is not surprised, nor even remotely offended. A kinfolk is important, yes, but not so much that one would think her known far and wide. He rolls his shoulders in Gallic manner, moving to reclaim a seat, swirling some no doubt highly expensive, well aged liquor in a glass, refraining from more than a sip. "She was allowed to come abroad in order to further her education - near here in fact. At least, such is the reason she believes. She believes she beguiled a somewhat doting father into acquiesing to her whims. She is young, beautiful, charming... it is not surprising that she believes such things and her father, my uncle, is indeed quite fond of her. However, in truth it was decided she would be safer here perhaps than back at her home Sept where we are facing a considerable strenghtening of attacks, many of which specifically target our kind. She is not the only Kinfolk to be allowed leave as a means of protection. And, of course, she was not sent out blind and unwatched -- but after the recent events here, those who were watching over her have.. moved on. That being said, the Silver Fang of House Gleaming Eye and of the Sept of Gaia's Bounty honour those who fell in battle here. By all accounts, Runs With Dragons-Rhya was a worthy, glorious son of Falcon." The merest strengthing of his gaze, inclination of his head renders the words far more full of earnest meaning that the mere words alone would have. "However... have you perhaps met a Shadow Lord who belongs to this Sept, one Michael 'Stormhelm' Lennox?" Full, distinctive eyebrows arch upwards mildly with his query.

[Linnea Bartlett] "He was," the girl replies, her voice quiet, her features still, in a moment full of meaning. She says nothing more on that matter: what can the words of a Cliath - and a sometimes tongue-tied Ahroun at that - add to the legend of an Elder who died in defense of a Caern?

Her pale eyes flicker over his face in response to his question, then. She is not stoic - she cannot hide her emotions behind a cool mask, they run like water over her features. There is a start of recognition in the shift of her eyes, a moment's catch in her breath, before she nods at last - slowly. "I know him. A Philodox." She swallows again, her throat working against itself. "and I bet he's the Truth-Catcher, since Armina left. I - " her mouth snaps closed, against unnecessary information, but she cannot leave hte sentence unfinished, so she simply affirms again. "I know him."

[Louis de Laine] "Truth-Catcher?" His eyebrows knitt together, between consternation, wry amusement, and simple thoughtfullness... something that draws out for a moment, cueing further swirlings of his drink until, finally. "This cannot be, Vanguard of the Dawn. The Garou has shown himself to be an insult to his auspice - my own auspice, mind you - and an embodiement of the kind of things that have so long given the Shadow Lords a dispicable reputation."

Leaning back, he rubs at an old, worn scar on his temple, brooding or thinking over his owrds or.. who knows. Until, finally. "He went abroad on business and in the course of it requested audience with my uncle. He was allowed it, despite his tribe and is only being a Cliath, because he has some reputation as an Ambassador... a bit ridiculace for one so young and inexperienced - no offense intended," His slight smile is something between fatherly and wry-humoured for a moment, witha touch of the predator he is and a hefty boon of his Breeding, a nod in her direction, she being a Cliath as well, "But still... perhaps just a sign of the times that even cliaths are needed for such position now. And many serve well. But he came before us speaking showing a practiced amount of respect I believe to be faux, speakign words of wishing to inform us of what was going on here and of the danger Giselle might be in.. offering himself and his pack to her service..."

Smirking blandly, the man rolls his eyes slightly and then fixes his gaze back on the ahroun, one eyebrow arching. "Tell me, Mlle... if you received such a magnanimous offer from one of another tribe, let alone a Shadow Lord, regarding one of our Kinfolk of respected breeding and value.. would you think his motives entirely altruistic?"

[Linnea Bartlett] In the faint pause in the space of her elder's small smile, Linnea shakes her fair head, quietly. "I take no offense, Balance of Falcon's Wings-rhya. Cliaths hold such positions here only - only because of our great loss."

Then she listens, raptly. Intently. Somewhere in the middle of the rest of the speech the young Ahroun half-rises. Plain though she is, she was made to smile - her moon is fat and waxing - joy is an integral part of her black rage - but her features darken and fall, nostrils flaring like a bull's own. After a moment's intensity, the girl sinks back to her seat, shaking her head - several times, dislodging the strands of hair her mother or sister worked carefully to arrange in a presentable fashion. "I would not." Her mouth narrows, her eyes darken. "I spoke to him before he left the Sept. I sent him to - I sent him - " She cannot wholly maintain her composure. It deserts her, momentarily, and she is open-mouthed, bright, furious. "He said nothing about your kin. He said nothing of her danger to me."

[Louis de Laine] Loius, for all that some might mistakenly take him for a bit of a meterosexual at times [those out of touch with instict or just damned unperceptive], is a shrewed Garou, clear enough in how he watches Linnea. Soaking in her response and tucking it away to be approached in due course...
...for now he nods. "You sent him abroad then? Mmm," No more, for now, and, "No, I am not surprised that he did not say anything. I cannot say what his motives were in coming to us.. perhaps pure folly, thinking we would welcome his -- protection - and eagerly ask that he look after young Giselle. He did not take into account the ways of our Tribe, let alone the ways of an Athro Ahroun father.. a formidable sight, in and of itself..." His gaze flickers a distinctly dark humour, lips curving in a distant smirk. "As it was, I am surprised he did not soil himself when Gustav was done with him. He used a gift of our kind, which can render another completely... supine to our commands... short of self-destruction, of course. It is a blatant form of Mastery we are skilled at, as is befitting. With it he extrated the truth from our young Shadow Lord. Thr truth being that he has had intimate relations - sexual that is - with my cousin." Mild. Calm.
But if you look in his eyes you can see the almost manic flicker of rage there, singular and intense.
He dared to sully one of our own.
"This is, of course, unacceptable to us. Not only that he slept with her, a Kinfolk of another tribe, but that he came to us without honour, with subterfuge, seeking to play deciet for his own plans of theivery. In the end Gustav relented, not killing him on the spot, something many would not repoach him for. but the Philodox was told never again to have any dealing with her and that if he did it would cost him far more than the price he ended up paying. The price being that he carve upon his own chest, with a silver blade, the glyphs for No Honour and Kni-Thief. No doubt Lennox will try to hide this, under play it, call himself the victim... this must not be allowed, Vanguard of the Dawn, for reasons I am sure you can see."

[Linnea Bartlett] "It will not happen." The Ahroun lacks Louis de Laine's finesse and control. She is livid with rage; her pale cheeks are blotched with wild blooms of angry color that come close to searing the freckles from her flesh. She has flown to her feet again, wild, stark - and turns away from him long enough to find some measure of mastery of herself. It would be comical, this scarecrow of a girl in the throes of some wild fit - if not for the very real weight of her rage.

She hasn't turned back to him yet - she is only a Cliath, and a young one at that. Her shoulders are hunched forward, her arms are crossed, pulling the fine weave of the sweater someone else purchased for her awkwardly against the wings of her shoulderblades. "I - " she stops, she starts again, inarticulate, then begins again. "I apologize, deeply, for the harm done your kin while she lived in our lands. I will ensure that the truth is known to the Sept. I - " now she looks back, over her narrow shoulder, a flash of pale, furious eyes. " - the moot is soon. If you wish to speak, I will introduce you to Judgment's Teeth-rhya. If you must return - I, I will speak for you. And the girl - she returns to your home?"

[Louis de Laine] The furious energy of a cliath ahroun. In a way it is invigorating to see, to remember what it was like to feel so much so strongly. Not that he has lost touch with his own Rage, far from it, but he has gained an iron control of it for the most part....
...not that he doesn't have his short comings. Don't they all? Oh yes.. yes they very much do have their short comings. But whatever madness he might have it is hidden for now as she shakes his head, sipping his drink once more.
"Alas, I cannot stay. I have spoken already to Judgement's Teeth, but the Bartlett family is not without its noteriety and respect, so I wished also to speak to you. Also, as a Cliath and with many kinfolk, you may be in a better position to honour my request... " He regards her closely, drawing himself up in his seat, rubbing slender, calliused fingertips over the fine line of stubble that has appeared on his jawline since his shave this morning. "A request that comes from the seat of the de Laine family. At this time, my Uncle begrudgingly believes that his daughter is still safer here than she would be at home, despite recent events here." That does seem to bode poorly for the situatuon back in France if indeed it is that bad. He certainly seems very.. intensely, quietly earnest. "At least for the time being. I will be speaking to my cousin... though my uncle would hear nothing of this - the folly of a father - I do not believe Lennox out and out coerced my cousin. I am sure he seduced, but likely not through any supernatural means. She is, as I said, young with all the willfullness that comes with youth, especially that of the proverbial spoiled little rich girl. That does not in any way alter the Shadow Lords guilt and trechery, but it is a matter that must also be adressed. Once I have done so, I, my uncle, indeed the whole of my family, would consider it a personal favour if you could perhaps keep an eye out on her. I know that you are more than a little busy with your own considerable duties... " He smiles them, disarmingly charming - again almost fatherly, but never losing that predatory understone. "My congradulations for your positon as WyrmFoe, especially for one so young it... well, I will not go into what a special duty it is. We do what we must, after all. As I was saying, though, if you could spare some time from time to time to make sure she is well and that, ah, no more indescretions are being commited. If a fellow Silver Fang should notice her and begin to consider her as a mate it could perhaps be considered, but certainly no one from without our tribe. And, more so, it would do her good to remain in association with the Tribe. By all means, if some duty might be found for her, all the better. It is much, perhaps, for us to ask but it would make us most greatful. Judgements Teeth is now aware, but he has even more to handle at the moment and more than anything I wanted to make clear to him the acctions of the Shadow Lord above all else...."

There he trails off waiting and looking for her response.


[Linnea Bartlett] "I will - " her body expands with a breath, she turns on her heel. "I will do that, Balance of Falcon's Wings-rhya. I will - I will - We - " It is a fine time for her momentary eloquence, for the inborn and inbred poise that comes from such a lineage to desert her. In truth, she has no idea what to do with a kinfolk - willful, young, or old and timid - but she turns to her elder (once there were so many, now there is only one - of important in the tribe) - and - and nods, her face shining, her rage still wild upon her. "I will. All of that. Just - just tell me - " where to find her.

There is still business to be done: information to be exchanged, preferences regarding domicile and educational requirements. (Linnea offers her mother's house, without asking, to house the kinwoman, demuring that her mother has recently taken her own widowed daughters, that she likes the young company). Linnea profers, as well, the number for her shiny new cellphone, and what other information she can promise, while typing whatever he has regarding Giselle into the phone, with all the ease of a Luddite confronted with the controls to the space shuttle.

Afterwards, the mother returns. Refreshments are offered. Pleasantries are exchanged, refreshments are again offered, but never pressed upon him, and he is hosted with grace and dignity until he leaves.

[Linnea Bartlett] how is that? It covers... most things: I guess all I need is... whether he actually wnats Giselle to move in with Linnea's many NPC relatives. Because Linnea will totally make her. Or try to. ;)
PMed to: Louis de Laine

[Louis de Laine] Excellent. He will be pleased with the idea, though he will first wait to see what state he finds his Cousin in (heh, I love that he went to see the Garou before even bothering to see her) and then let Linnea know before he goes. (nod nod) So I'll let you know as soon as I do the scene with Firefly, hopefully soon.
PMed to: Linnea Bartlett