2021-08-03 If Like Cook, Cook
If Like Cook, Cook
Participants: Gia Clint Karissa
Location: The Training Area within the Bawn of the Sept of the Smiling Angel
Date and Time: August 3rd, 2021, late afternoon
Summary: Gia meets Clint and discusses her potential place within the Bone Gnawers and the Sept of the Smiling Angel
Flashback to yesterday, August 2nd: In the Sept's Greenhouse Gia and Edge meet. There's an argument but it doesn't come to blows. Gia is recommended to speak Clint, Liam or even Valentine the Kinfolk.
Within hours of that encounter, Gia lets word be known that she wants to meet with Clint. However the message flows from her to the right ear or ears, flow it does.
Today, August 3rd, 2021: Gia is in the training area. In Homid form. Practicing boxing moves against the concrete training dummy set up there. Among the old brown blood stains are fresh blood. Occasionally she stops and lets the wounds she's worked into her fists heal - nice to have regeneration in all forms, one of the few perks of being a Metis. When she's resting, she often grabs a sports bottle full of water so as to take a swig. She's spent much of the day in the tunnels, making sure someone was aware of her actual location within the Bawn of the Sept.
Even without a message it's a place that Clint frequents. But he rarely actually trains in the room. Today is no different. After receiving the message, he arrives in the training area. The mountain of a man is completely hairless and wearing handmade clothes of heavy canvas with boots. Over that is a kevlar vest with a neon green fanny pack and a rope belt with a fetish pipe wrench hanging from it around his waist. Overall, of that is an ankle length coat made from random animal hides. On his back is a shield made from a stop sign and held in place by a nylon strap. His brows are pushed together as he walks into the training area. He rubs a hug hand over his head as he lets out a big yawn.
Gia finishes a round of punching as she smells someone entering. Turning, her eyes hit Clint somewhere in the torso initially and then scan upward. She nods at him and says, "I'm Gia Nash, rited as Verdigris Claws, Philodox Bone Gnawer Metis," before asking the Garou towering more than two feet over her, "Might you be Clint?"
Clint looks towards Gia when she speaks, her hair getting the lion's share of his attention initially and he stares. Eyes narrow a bit as he continues to stare and study the hair. Trying to figure out what's going on with it. His attention shifts slightly as she introduces herself to listen. "Yes. Clint." He points towards his chest as if it's not obvious who he's talking about. "Gonna-Eat-That? Theurge. Bone Gnawer. Fostern." His voice lowers for the next word. "Metis." Then raises again and have some pride to it. "Follower of Unicorn. Member of Silverhoof pack. Good Meet Gia Nash."
Peeking her head into the room - Karissa see's it's nowhere near as populated as it was before. A gentle nod of greeting to those present - then moving on; Stepping forwards - the mule shakily makes her way over to the Weapons rack and picks out one of the basic training bows. Checking it's string best she can - and gathering a handful of the arrows provided - she makes her way to the far edge side of the room; away from targets that might get in the crossfire of trying to fire off a few faulty and shakily aimed shots and sizes up her first shot. Going through the basics - she lines up a shot and waits for a lul in her spasming musculature; letting loose a single shot that only just misses their target with a glance.
Bowing her head respectfully to the higher ranked Metis, Gia says, "I am a Cliath, currently not a member of a specific pack. She glances over at Karissa momentarily, curious about another member of the Sept but turns her attention back to Clint to show the Fostern respect he's due. "It was suggested that I talk to you by a very angry member of our Tribe, Thundergrowl," she adds, "As you can guess, I'm new to the Sept having recently relocated from the Sept of the Grandfather back east," in her Appalachian drawl.
Clint tilts his head towards Gia so he can keep his ear pointed that direction while his eyes follow Karissa. Watching her set up the bow and take the shot. Curiosity sated his attention back to Gia and one brow raises up as he listens to the rest. His brows scrunch together as he thinks. "I..." He trails off and his head slowly tilts over to the other side. "What need?"
Another shot is loosed after much shaky 'deliberation' of the arm to taut string. Another -thunk- but this time with a hit..though far from center. After just the two shots; Karissa needs a break. Taking her right hand in the other, massaging the palm with quaking digits. The mass of her hair shaking alongside the rest of her form; bow set to rest against her leg. After a moment's rest of hand massage she picks it back up and stretches to let loose another shot - slowly correcting her aim through the continued process of trial and error.
OOC: At this point Karissa had RL crop up and she asked to be posed around for the time being.
Keeping part of her attention on the third Garou present, Gia tries to focus on Clint as much as she can as she speaks to him. "I think I know why Edge suggested I speak with y'but... I question her judgment on the matter as I unintentionally pushed some of her buttons. I reckon I'd like t'get some clarity on how I can best be helpin' th'tribe here in LA seein' as I'ma so newly arrived this week an'all," she explains.
Clint has the advantage of not needing to lead to look around Gia at any point. His eyes just flit up at the sounds of each arrow. A look for a quick study then back to Gia each time. "How best?" His head tilts to the side and his hands absentmindedly open and rummage in his fanny pack. "Fix dispute? Are many. Help people..." He trails off as he loses the word. He unwraps and pops a green apple jolly rancher in his mouth and offers her one. Then he holds his hands up, pointing towards each other, opening and closing as if they were talking to each other. "..to..know talks...better? Understand what say." He lets out a heavy breath and lets his arms fall. "What good at? Lots need help."
Ignoring the occasional twangs of the Black Fury practicing archery, Gia answers Clint honestly, "I'm best at cooking but it was suggested - and I agree - that I'd be good at scouting as well. I'd also try to coach people on things but I'm not a very good teacher. Maybe someone could teach me in that aspect." She looks up at Clint, towering over her as he would, with a questioning expression to see what he thinks of this.
"People eat. Food needed." Says Clint with a smile and a pat to his stomach. "Scout important. Need much gather information." His hands raise up in front of his face and open slowly like peekaboo. "Best without seen. Not know there." He jabs his thumb into his kevlar covered chest. "Can teach to teach. All work get better. Always get better." He points to her then to himself again. "Teach others get better. Much honor. Make all better."
Gia smiles at the food comment. "Surprisingly I was told by a fellow Gnawer... well, adopted like me but... that we have kinfolk to cook," she comments on that subject. "Of course we'd work to get better," she agrees before asking, "Would y'like some coaching on yer English? I... my ma and my pa were kinfolk who adopted me - both as a Gnawer and as a Nash - treated me well and taught me the basics... even though I could barely speak English until my First Change myself of course."
"If like cook. Cook. Some will eat." Says Clint with a big thumbs up and a smile. "Was adpot too. After..." He trails off for a bit and looks down. Voice lower and his toe digging at the ground by his foot twisting. "..got abandon. Raise self most very young. Self and spirits. Gnawer later some." Another silence as he stares at the floor a bit. "Tried." He taps at the side of his head. "Gets..." He moves his hands like he was working a rubiks cube. "..mix up. Words lost."
Gia nods. "I do like to cook," she says before adding, "And m'ma's pickled okra recipe for pickled okra will have the Galliards here writing epics in her honor I'd wager," with a smirk and a wink before he explains that he's an adoptee also. She frowns at the story and says, "Yeah, being raised at a Caern of Hospitality I was damn lucky. I'ma curious though, do y'find it easier to converse in Crinos using our global and tribal spanning tongue?"
"There go. Like cook. Cook. Bring ogre pickles." Says Clint with a smile and a big thumbs up. he rolls a shoulder and wobbles a hand. "Not good at still. Curious. Follow. Smell. Noise." He nods at her with a smile. "Yes. First tongue fine. English not. Symbols....reading not." He holds up a thumb and his already massive frame grows to truly massive proportions. Just over eleven feet tall war from with pink skin and still entirely hairless. Wearing much what he was before except the canvas clothes and boots. >>I have no issues with the first tongue or that of the spirits. What I have issue with is this form..<< He motions towards his birth himself, while now on his crinos birth form. >>I very much do not like taking in. I'm filled with memories of pain and filled with pain..<< He points to his chest over his heart as a better way to explain what he means. >>I would rather never take this shape. But that bring it's own problems.<< His lips pull back, baring teeth in a bit of a wolfish smile. >>It was good to meet you. I have much to do.<< He gives her another thumbs up and turns around, walking back towards the exit. His body shifting again and shrinking back down to his homid form. As he settles into it, he lets out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Fostern Clint," Gia says as the older Bone Gnawer Metis departs the Training Room.
Overall - Karissa sticks to her own business, and does not barge into the other conversation that soon comes to an end with Clint's departure. Still trying her best to fire arrow after arrow - long pauses between each. Fingers twitching here and there while she works to steady herself for each taught-pull of the bowstring. Miss. Miss. Glance. Hit - off center. Miss. It continues. Sighing to herself before taking a rest to massage her hands and go pick up the arrows thusly fired for practice.
Since her hands have had a chance to stop bleeding from the workout with the concrete training dummy, Gia gathers up her towel and water bottle and says, "Luck with your archery practice," to Karissa as she heads out into the tunnels.
