2019 03 08: The Judgement of Puddle Jumper

The Judgement of Puddle Jumper
Waziyata faces Dragomir's judgement for the crimes of her distant past.
IC Date	TBD
Players	Lleutrim, Dragomir, Ryla, and Waziyata
Location	The Sept of the Enduring Spirit
Spheres	Gaian Garou

In the week since the group's return from the Legendary Realm, Waziyata has mostly resumed her formerly solitary life, communing with nature, patrolling the lands around the Caern, and joining occasional patrol rotations or having minor encounters with friends - excluding the recent major encounter with Ryla, of course.

Evening is newly fallen outside and she is in the caern, drinking from one of the shallow streams winding through the system of caves, posture relaxed.

Dragomir on the other hand, has not been around much at all. His claim as Master of the Challenge was pretty much the last that anyone has heard from him. Rumor is he has been spending time with his mate and children. Though other scandalous rumors have that his mind has finally snapped and he's been sequestered in some super secret Silver Fang insane asylum deep in the Motherlands. Who knows really?

All the same, it seems this evening he has decided to make an appearance. Though not just any appearance, as his hair has been slicked back and he is wearing a dull silver stylish suit and a black button up shirt beneath. He is also wearing a cloak of some kind, embroidery looks hand-stitched and fabric is white. There is a glyph-style clasp that holds it to his chest, where it hangs over one shoulder. The half-moon, the Judge's moon. In his exposed half-gloved hand is the Crystalline Javelin, named Zhazhda Mesti - or The Revenge. There is an intensity to the man as he walks directly for Wazi, as though he knew somehow where she was or would be.

Ryla has been out to visit with Wazi, and around in general, still getting used to this place ... again. She was heading to go see Wazi, and hike around the area, and then spots Dragomir coming. This can not be good - but somehow it is expected.

Waziyata finishes drinking from the stream and her ears twitch at the sound of Dragomir's approach. Her head lifts and her posture shifts, orienting on the man, watching him expectantly as he nears. It only takes moments before the Ahroun has picked up on the dangerous intensity of the man, and her ears lay back. But she doesn't begin to snarl or wilt, she simply waits. Dragomir isn't shy. All should be made clear soon enough.

Dragomir proceeds forward towards Wazi, and stops - rather abruptly. The Javelin is raised to the air, and then brought down firmly - a thud of recognition. "I am Dragomir Mihailovich, known as Eye of the Storm. Athro Silver Fang, born on two legs beneath the Judge's moon. Gaia has given me duty to see with her eyes, and pass judgement on those who have failed to live by our laws and who are a threat to this Great Nation." The man's tone is dire, and firm - a brutality he takes with the Wyrm and all subjects related.

"Announce yourself to the Spirits, and stand to be judged before them with Honor." Somehow, that sounded more like a threat than a request.

Lleutrim showed up a while ago but has been in the Patrol Cave going over patrol assignments and making a few small changes to the roster. Then he came out as a wolf and went into the Heart for a time.

The Fianna comes out of the Caern's Heart now still as a wolf and begins to make his way into the valley proper. It's Dragomir's javelin that catches his eye, the crystal glinting when raised and cast down. Icy grey wolf's eyes lock onto it and take in the tableau unfolding before him. The Galliard has stopped, still some distance from the others. Battle Singer watches closely, ears up to catch the voices. A breath is taken to glance around and see what others are about and their reactions, then Lleu's attention returns to Dragomir - and she whom the Athro has addressed.

There will be talking, then. At least some talking. Waziyata grows into her homid form and takes a moment to peel off her jacket, setting it aside before facing the Athro squarely. Her hands lift up to the collar of her teeshirt, taking hold and ripping it with a hard jerk, to reveal the 'family' scar given by the same man.

"I am Waziyata Northstar," she answers very firmly, staring up at the Philodox as she stands before him, "Named Puddle Jumper by Quelled Fury, Elder Ahroun of the Children of Gaia. I am Ahroun, like him. Born as a wolf, daughter of the Wind that Sleeps at Night and Wakes, and also Sweet Trees Singing with Cold Water. Sister of Kaskapahtew, Osawaw, Nikamew, and Twilight's Glimmer of the Silver Fangs. I have no pack, but am Twister's child. Touched by Wyld. Fostern of the Sept of the Enduring Spirit."

Dragomir stands, chin lifted and listens to the introduction. He waits a long moment, casting his intense blue gaze from side to side in a slow sweeping manner before they turn back to lock on the girl once more. The Javelin is lifted, and the deadly point is leveled towards Wazi - stopping only inches from her throat. "Puddle Jumper. You are accused on behalf of the Great Nation, to have slain your own kinfolk. To have lost control of the gift which Luna has entrusted you with, and allowed the Wyrm to grip hold of you. This is in direct violation to our Litany, and all that we stand for as Garou of the Nation. Do you deny these accusations?" The question is asked harshly, a certain vehemence to the man's tone which is undeniable. ".. or are you ready to submit for judgement?"

Ryla sees Lleutrim, and she walks very quietly over next to him. This is happening, and it needs to be given the respect it is due.

Battle Singer comes closer. The wolf stops a little distance away and shifts from lupus back through to homid, rising to stand on two legs. Lleutrim makes eye contact with Ryla and gives her a faint nod, saying nothing as they stand together. His attention goes back to watching the older Silver Fang address the Ahroun.

Wazi's tension increases at Dragomir's words, expression becoming a pained scowl, though she still looks back at him squarely. She lifts her chin up, exposing her throat more completely to the spear's point, hands clenching into fists at her side. She trembles all over, but doesn't burst into tears again.

"I did not -allow- this thing," she answers in a growled voice, "But I was too weak a puppy. Bageled for death, but my tribe would not give it. You would not, either. Give judgement."

At the end, her voice is less growled and more hollow, eyes shining wetly in the dimness. But she clenches her jaw and waits.

"We of the Nation are not afforded with the luxury of excuses. We are the reason, when we fail. We wear those scars to remind us - and to tell our story so others may learn from our failures. You were weak Puddle Jumper. In your moment of weakness, the Wyrm won - and your kinfolk suffered the ultimate price for your weakness. The Nation mourns, and you survive to face judgement for your actions." Dragomir riddles off with ease, as though he has had years to think about this conversation..

The Revenge is withdrawn backwards, and pointed upright once more by his side. Dragomir nods and says, "You have achieved much since that time. You have had many opportunities to prove yourself, and redeem your actions. Who now is prepared to speak for your deeds?" He casts out his other free half-gloved hand, welcoming anyone to speak on Wazi's behalf. "What glory has this wolf had over the Wyrm? How honorable has she been? When has she showed wisdom, instead of instinct?" He does not look at anyone but Wazi - perhaps if no one speaks, that will be all he needs to hear to make his decision.

Ryla takes this as an opportunity to speak. She first shares of all that Wazi did on their trip to the legendary realm, and then adds, "Just two nights ago, she and I were confronted by Black Spiral Kinfolk in public. She and I stood up to the Wyrm that was looking to harm any female he could come across, and she took him down. She helped protect me, and all those in the future he could have harmed."

The ahroun doesn't argue with the Athro's words, though she does snort derisively at the word 'excuses'. She doesn't speak up or have the audacity to grin or laugh, nor does she seem amused in any way. The pain is still clear in her, the simple acceptance of the man's words and accusations. She shivers a little, before huffing a quiet breath and then waiting quietly as others speak, breathing slowly and evenly.

First he listens to what Ryla has to say about what Wazi did in the Legendary Realm and the recent attack that Ryla herself was involved in. Then Lleutrim says, "I will also speak for her." The Galliard takes a long quiet moment to organize his thoughts before Lleu says low, "Last November, Puddle Jumper took part in helping Shield Brother and myself with tracking down Wyrm taint that turned out to be a formor bear - it was very tough. We kept it from killing two humans and protected the veil, waiting to engage the bear once they escaped. It very nearly killed me but Puddle Jumper healed me once we had destroyed it. Then she assisted in tracking it back to a tainted stream, which sourced to a sewage leak that was infested with banes, which we fought. Then we cleansed the site as best we could and got the pipe break repaired. Later she came with us to cleanse the site again and track an additional taint that lead us to a trailer with a formor man with a small, not yet infected child. Puddle Jumper lead that patrol and developed a plan to deal with the banes on the umbra side, one of which was attempting to possess the girl child. We dispatched them, then Wazi directed herself and Dapplegrim to pop back through the Gauntlet into the trailer to protect and shield the child while Hjalmar and I dealt with the formor main."

"Another time she also dealt with several banes and I hear she assisted in destroying a Wymr Fetish. Purified two tainted humans, and helped defeat a Black Spiral Dancer pack. Received a Rite of Wounding and protected helpless humans. Puddle Jumper also protected the veil on that occasion as well. Afterwards she created and distributed Gaia's Breath talens, three sets of Bloody Bandages that I know of, did Sept chores, guarding, patrols, and learned and taught Rites. That was for November."

"In December I reacall Waziyata descovered the Wyrm Gym with others, destroyed and purified Siren Cosmetics they'd gathered, protected Shield Brother when he was mentally compromised, and she was truthful under duress. I hear she was also in an archery contest, taught more Rites, chores and guarding of the Caern. She did however loose renown for leading banes onto the bawn, then promptly gained the assistance of others to destroy them. Nonetheless she also made and completed her challenge for Fostern." Donnachaidh glances among them as he speaks, pausing to remember as best he can, "Then in January Puddle Jumper delt with Vampire cultists in assisting Thunder's Fury and threats made against Xenovia. She helped destroy them and purify the area afterwards. Then there was something about defeating another pack of Black Spirals that somehow set a river on fire. Puddle Jumper assisted in defeating them when they were armed with silver. Again, I was there for that either but I heard about it." Lleu admits quietly. He pauses to think some more, "Then in February, she accompanied myself and Thunder's Fury patrolling around Xenovia's cabin when a prophetic vision indicated the Vampire Cult was still going after her." For reasons the Galliard doesn't name aloud, "She assisted in killed a great many of them, as well as their leader. It was a very hard fight and Shield Brother and Thunder's Fury were nearly killed. Puddle Jumper healed both Viktor and myself, then she helped purify the site afterwards and dispose of the bodies. She also came back to help rebuild the damage to Xenovia's cabin the next day and finish the clean up. Later she made ... at least three more sets of bloody bandages talens, and Sun Paint talens, taught myself Rite of Binding, participated in a just challenge, chores and guarding of the Caern."

The Galliard finally winds down. Lleu rubs the back of his neck, "That's what I can remember her doing the past few months without including all the things she's done to assist with summoning my Ancestor Spirit, and our quest into the Legendary Realm that Twilight's Glimmer has mentioned - for you were there for all of that as well, Eye of the Storm'rhya. Waziyata's also been learning how to read and write, use sign language, and learning more about human interaction in general."

Dragomir listens to the others speak, letting Wazi hear the deeds that she is known for - that the Spirits will know her for. He stands stern, unmoved by the words and then levels The Revenge back towards her throat once more and says, "I stand as your judge, Puddle Jumper. So I will not speak in your defense, or of your achievements. You have submitted yourself for judgement by the Nation and by the Spirits." With that he is quiet for a long moment - studying her intently and says, "I have made my decision."

"In the eyes of the Nation, you are remembered for what you have done. Both in victory and in defeat. Both in strength and in weakness. You owe a debt to your Family, and once and only once it is repaid may you be redeemed." He turns to look towards the others and then back and says, "We are the Garou. We defend our Kinfolk, not because they are weak - but because without them, we.. are nothing." He reaches back, and draws out his Fang Dagger and hands it towards Wazi now. "To lose our kinfolk, is to walk on one leg." Then he says, "To lose our kinfolk, is to fight with one hand." Then he nods towards her, as though expecting something of her, "To lose our kinfolk, is to see with one eye."

Then he lifts his chin and says, "Let this be your burden, until you have returned to where they were slain - face their spirits, and honor their passing properly with Howl."

Ryla listens and nods. Sound judgment. "If you would have me, sister, I would be honored to come with you. To help perform the rite to honor them." She knows it is something deeply personal for Wazi, but with as close as they have grown, she makes the offer without hesitation.

Watching, Lleutrim is silent. No attempt to stop Dragomir from what he's set to do for it is his role to make judgement upon them as necessary, himself judged in turn by his peers and the spirits. Lleu's grey eyes shift back to the Ahroun, "I too would go with you when it is time, lending my voice with yours, Waziyata. If you will have me."

Wazi stands silent through all of the explanations of the deeds she's accomplished from her two friends. She stirs a little, as if tempted to look at them, but she keeps her attention and gaze primarily on the Athro. The spear raises for her throat again and she doesn't back down, she doesn't even flinch, she simply stares back at the man, expression fierce, almost demanding in turn. He and the ancient Fianna have rubbed off on her in the past year.

After the man has said his piece, she exhales, trembling again, watching the man. Then she reaches to accept the offered dagger, expression turning grisly grim at the words.

It's only then that she glances aside to Ryla and Lleutrim, when they speak, Wazi's form tense, jaw clenched tightly, knuckles turning white upon the dagger's hilt.

She gives them a slight nod, a signal of agreement to the offer, then she takes another deep breath, looking to the dagger in her hand.

"I do not understand," she speaks in a tight, low voice, staring at the dagger now rather than Dragomir. "A burden until?"

"It means to be without, until you have made amends properly. The rituals are the Rite of Contrition, and Gathering for the Departed. These wounds you will carry, until you have made redeemed yourself in your Family's eyes. They are symbolism, and an important part of your journey. They represent your weakness. Weakness that will be felt by all around you, and all who share with you until you have fixed this. Once you have righted this wrong, then you may heal. Then you may be Strong." Dragomir nods sternly, watching the young Ahroun impassively. "Proceed."

Having said the piece concerning Wazi's deeds, and his brief comment about going to witness her Contrition and all else as concerns making things right with her dead family and pack, Lleutrim stands silent. No movement, merely observing. If he'd realized what he was walking in on he should have triggered his memory circle gift to record it.

The Ahroun looks up from the dagger to Dragomir, confusion evident in her expression at the man's words. She stares back at him for a long moment, studying him, weighing his words. Then, she takes another very deep breath and says softly, "I think I understand. If I am wrong, tell me, and I will do worse."

Then, holding her breath, setting her jaw, expression becoming almost a rictus, the girl lifts the knife to her face.

She trembles, glaring fiercely up at Dragomir a moment, steeling herself, and then she brings the blade down, cutting a long gash across her brow, through her left eye and against the nose.

The sound she makes next is strangled and harsh as the blood wells out. Her form ripples momentarily, Rage nearly taking her as it so often threatens to do. Then she exhales heavily, shuddering, and stands panting for several short breaths.

Then, she tightens her grip on the dagger again, rather than offering it back to the Athro.

Ryla swallows as her empathy for her friend is on high now. She keeps her distance as Wazi works through this with Dragomir.

Blood. It doesn't phase him. Lleu's seen far, far worse as a Marine combat veteran and more since he's become garou - though he's not seen it self inflicted like this, nor by a friend he cares about. His mouth thins very faintly. Otherwise no reaction.

Dragomir watches impassively, lifting his thick arms to cross over his chest while the young girl mutilates her own face in front of him, with his dagger none the less. Those intense blue eyes stare down at her, watching every act and motion in judgment as she does so. Not a word is spoken on whether this was the correct meaning, or if she has gone too far or not enough. This is a struggle, the beginning of a journey and he seems to be ready to watch her take those first steps.

There /are/ a few others in the Caern who have gathered to watch this spectacle. Garou and at least one kinfolk. Elderly Maria stands by her fire and has turned to watch, a fair distance from Wazi's blood shed. Yet she too witnesses, as others do, silent or speaking very low among themselves. Ghost on Water has also shown up, staying back but ready if Wazi should frenzy.

Wazi stands silent and shaking for another few moments, catching her breath. Once it has settled into a more steady rythmm, she gives a slight nod, still staring defiantly back at Dragomir. When the man gives her no reaction, she tenses again. Then she lifts her left arm and looks to it with her one unwounded eye. Her jaw clenches once more, and she sucks in another deep breath, before she's lifting the knife again. Her hand trembles slightly, at first, before she relaxes her grip a little and grips the weapon with familiar, practiced ease as some of the agony fades from her posture

Then, she is bringing the blade to bear again, cutting with care and precision into the palm of her hand. Once, twice, then again - wounding tendons with precise care. Her hand curls into a weak, nearly useless claw. But it's clear the Ahroun knows how to inflict damage that can be recovered.

This time, there is no hint of frenzy in the girl. She simply shudders again, fresh blood leaking from her ruined hand to fall on the earth.

Then, she is offering the blade back to Dragomir.

"It will be all," she tells him, hoarsely, fiercely, "Hand. Leg. Eye. If I am wrong, tell me now so I can begin again."

Dragomir watches, nodding at the decision and reaches out his hand to take the dagger back once Wazi is done with it. "I have passed my judgement on you already Puddle Jumper. It is up to you now to decide if you have lived up to it or not. May you find peace, and the strength to be more than your failures. May you remember always the value and importance of the marks you bear... and next time, and there will always be, a next time.. may you look back at moments like this, and remember the strength to overcome the Wyrm's whisper in your ears."

He reaches out a gloved hand once the dagger is put away, and pats Wazi's shoulder and leans forward to look into her eyes - nearly pressing his nose to her's and whispers something to her softly.

Dragomir whispers "Never again."

Ryla just watches now. Something this symbolic and important must be witnessed, and it is something important to the woman she promised to stand by.

Lleutrim says very low, "It is a lesson to us all who witness it. Not for Waziyata alone. It could just as easily be myself standing in her place, to be so judged, if things had gone differently, or yet do so."

Although Wazi's storm of emotions is clearly unabated, she remains calm and free of any signs of the beast stirring again, despite earlier movements. She listens to Dragomir's words, some of the fierceness of her expression fading to something softer at his reply and the touch to her shoulder, though she stands tall and silent.

Then, he leans in close to whisper those words, and the Ahroun is momentarily overcome with emotion again. She pivots, stepping in almost as if to attack, but wraps her arms around the Athro in a sudden, crushingly tight hug, eyes closed, blood leaking onto his nice clothes from the gruesome self-inflicted wounds as she clings to him for a long moment. Then she growls a quiet reply to him.

She whispers, "NEVER again. Never." to Dragomir.

Euw, puppy cooties! The expression is almost palpable on Dragomir's face when the little creature wraps her bloody body against him and squeezes tight enough to pop a normal human in half. Perhaps his first reaction was to stab her, or something equally violent - as those large arms uncross and sway outwards and around the young girl, just hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment like they were ready to grapple.

Then after a moment, and hearing the girl's whispered words he chorts faintly and lowers his thick arms slowly down around her to hug her in return. "You may even survive long enough to be a halfway decent garou one day... maybe." he grins slightly.

Ryla bites her tongue to keep from smirking... unsuccessfully.

Well, this is more touchy-feely than he was expecting. Lleu glances aside at Ryla, then shifts himself back down into his wolf form. The Galliard shakes his thick coat out that is ... well, he's starting to shed, evidenced by the tufts of hair that get flung out. Spring is in the air after all and their winter adeventures are come to an end. All the rain lately has been weird for Southern California. Battle Singer briefly walks up close enough to lightly brush against the back of Wazi's legs and then the Fianna is walking off...

Wazi gets her turn to snort at Dragomir's words, the hug tightening again, just briefly, as she agrees: "Maybe."

She holds to the Athro for another moment, before finally breaking the embrace, releasing her deathlock on the Silver Fang. Her shoulders slump a little as she relaxes her stance somewhat. Then she gives a more firm, serious nod to the Philodox, "After this elephant done, I will ask you one thing. After."

Then, she's glancing after the departing Battle Singer, licking her lips and the blood upon them, and squatting down carefully. She holds her wounded hand before herself and moves the unharmed one before her, then drops back to her breed form, the crippling effect complete.