[Sandra] :: LOG :: Hunger Symbolism

[gmlogbox]

Characters: Sandra, Zach
Location: Nicholson Hall - Main Room
Time: 11/11/2017 - Morning - Half Moon (Waning)

Summary: Sandra and Zach have a chat about how to move forward, and go over some of what they already know.

NOTE: This scene does not have a follow-up (which is a huge bummer), and represents when much of the Nothing plot started to wind down for good.

Though the house Zach is directed to is no closer to town than most of the other places Sandra's called for meetings, there's something distinctly different about this one. First and foremost: there is a house on the property, overgrown though the lawn may be (and, quite frankly, it's nearing a level of 'Alabama with a broken truck in the front yard' overgrown). Second: The house isn't a dilapidated mess. Sure, it's fallen into disrepair common to neglect, but there are signs that someone is turning that around. Or trying to.
Probably the same someone that opens the door for him, and motions for him to join her inside.
"You'll have to forgive the dust," she says dryly, even before the scent hits: a faint burning smell that tends to come from a long-dormant heater once it kicks back to life. Nothing to indicate that using the heater is dangerous (necessarily), but it's definitely fallen into disuse over the years.
She leads him into the kitchen area first, which has a new-ish coffeemaker set up, and a small collection of breakfast-ish items laying about, in case he wants anything. Nothing more interesting than store-bought danishes and other items, but: food is food. On the large table are a mix of printouts-- enlarged versions of the constellation charts that Sandra's printed out for him before, a bit more expanded than they had been. With them is a new one, however: large, and ... oblong. Long enough that it needs to be placed lengthwise on the table itself.
"I've got copies of these for you," she says, "if you need them, but I seem to recall that you don't, really. Either way, they're here for your perusal. There's been a great deal of work and not a lot of headway, unfortunately."

Zach has the common courtesy to offer an earnest, "Nice place," to the hostess as she leads him through the house. Food is, indeed, food, and although he waits for the invitation and knows how to not make a mess, there's still a certain 'driven-by-necessity-to-avail' in the way he accepts the offer. Once there's properly a calorie inflow, he sets himself to perusing the latest updates. "I mean," he says, half-around a mouthful of danish, "that's how these things go: Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing - Boom. Epiphany." It's spoken from a place of lifelong experience. That presence of his stirrs in the air around him, as it often tends to when he is committing things to memory (or at least gives the trappings thereof). "No babysitter today?" It's a jab, but not an unkind one.

Sandra chooses a danish of her own; asks how he takes his coffee, if does at all, and joins him over by the table, her brows lifting slightly at the epiphany observation. They're in agreement on that, at least, though she may well be verging on the point of being willing to move heaven and earth if it means arriving upon a solution.
The question is taken in stride, at least, the edge of the Shadow Lord's mouth ticking upwards in a faint half-smile, her mug raised to blow on the black surface of what proves to be rather strong coffee a moment after, the danish set aside for the moment on one of the napkins the pastry came with. "James has better things to do than stare over my shoulder at all hours of the day," she says mildly. "I wanted to apologize for that, actually," she amends. "For him, rather. Not so much for his behaviour-- he's a big boy, he's capable of doing that himself-- but I couldn't help but notice--" A slight pause. "Well. I won't belabor the point."

Zach shrugs. "He's a prick." That, perhaps? "I've met a thousand dudes like him, I'll likely meet a thousand or three more." He finishes his perusal of the timeline and that sense of him taking up way more space than he should subsides, attenuating quickly. "Triquetral Accord?" He's never heard the name and depending upon how the '-quet' part is pronounced, he might've guessed at the pronunciation (he speaks it as 'ket'). "One of the northern caerns destroyed here?" He touches 1940 on the timeline.

Sandra merely nods, not all that quick to make excuses for the Theurge, or try to explain it. The apology's been made; that, to her, seems to suffice for now. She steps alongside him, looking down at the timeline, herself, as if needing to refamiliarize herself with her own datapoints.
She nods again, to his first question. "Tri-kwetral," she corrects absently. "'Three cornered.' Refers to the three totems at the center of the caern. Not a first for this particular caern, but-- normally, there's only one." She glances down at the 1940's entry, and nods again. "I'm still looking into that, and having others do the same," she says. "There's never not a time throughout our history when caerns aren't under threat of some kind, so-- while it's 'of note,' it may not be notable. Until such time as it's removed as relevant, however, it seemed prudent to include it."

"Ah," Zach says, nodding. "Some metadata on here showing what we know, what we think, and what we merely suspect - as well as that which is confirmed relevant somehow vs. that which is simply worth investigating further - might be useful for folks reading this. Most of this is all jibberish to me, so I'm working with it. But like," his finger goes down on the timeline at 1942, "Did we get confirmation that the Old Man was a Union agent or contractor? I mean, it neatly explains a lot but if we know for sure, then that opens some questions. He said it'd been 'decades' since he sold his soul. That'd either be here, or not so long after."

"I probably should have opened with 'this is as much speculation as fact,' in its current iteration," Sandra replies, shrugging slightly. "I'll admit, I've been knocking down enough doors with the same introductory comments that I sometimes forget if I've made them or not," this said with a slight raise of her brow. "But no. We haven't had confirmation. Bits and pieces about the Old Man are largely conjecture, and only here as points of reference. That said: I spoke to Jack about some of what he remembers-- about his own dealings with the ooze-- and he remarked on having seen Manhattan Project imagery in one particular... 'vision,' I suppose is the best way to put it. In which the Enola Gay featured heavily." A beat. "I should mention that these visions occurred during an attempt to specifically contact the Old Man. So it seemed appropriate to place his involvement where those particular events began, though there's nothing saying it didn't come two steps before, at the project's inception."

"Gotcha," Zach says, nodding with a large bit of telegraphing at the beginning of the gesture. "Well it certainly makes the whole thing come together elegantly. Puts his path in a sort of 'lokan samartum iha pravattah' kind of context. If this is /actually/ Oppenheimer we're dealing with I'm going to throw something at someone. Just, you know, fair warning." The last is said with eye contact to make clear that it's a separate wisecrack rather than an actual theory, even if he's leaving the door ajar anyway.

The expression on Sandra's face rather easily reads as 'I'm not familiar with that phrase' for a moment or two before her brows lift, and clarity is reached. Takes a moment or two of sifting memory, such that *actual* incredulity appears at the wisecrack until that, too, catches up with her. Quickly enough that the breath of a laugh to follow feels a little less guarded.
"I somehow doubt you'll be alone in that," she replies. "I'm fairly certain I already threw a few pens just putting the damn thing together." A beat. "That said: if you do have any questions about the 'jibberish' to make it more clear, I'll do what I can to explain some of it. I'd rather have you on the same page than not at all, as you're one of the few people still putting nose to grindstone on all of it." And, you know. She may be starting to trust him.

"Right then," Zach intones as he studies the thing. "So the Hanford site timelime makes enough sense to me. I mean... not as a decision or sequence of decisions a reasonable person would make, but all the concepts are known to me - thank you public school education. The 'Sept' timeline, here, however... seems to cover a number of different Caerns in a number of different locations. I guess I assumed a 'Sept' was a geopolitical unit - is it more like a group identity, instead?"

Another faint half-smile at the aside, one that's put to rest by taking a small bite of her danish, the food washed down with a sip of coffee. Just in time to respond when he raises the question.
"In a way," Sandra replies, "it's both. A sept is there to guard the caern - a static, geographic landmark - just as much as it benefits from it, and each one has its own set of politics to go with it, depending on which tribe is 'in office,' for lack of a better way of putting it. The different caerns you're seeing mentioned here--" she says, pointing to the first mention of the Wheel, The Wheel Renewed, the Hidden Walk, then Triquetral Accord, "are all the same geographical location. It's been shut down and remade so many times that its name keeps cycling, but the sept that's been here since the 90's still retains some of its members. Jack, among them."
"The Northern caerns, though," she notes, "the ones destroyed in the 1940's, and Last Days, are all separate entities."

Zach's turn at the coffee - he took it with milk and sugar, of unspecified quantities (but however it was handed to him was acceptable). And he's mid-sip as Sandra half-confirms some things he apparently suspected. "Oh. Shit. I thought this was all... different places. I guess that only needs clarified if you're me, or otherwise unfamiliar with the history here. But wait... I thought The Last Days - a caern - was located at the.... Ah," the additional note tacked on clarifies his thinking. "Okay. So there's a 'local' caern, with an associated Sept, once known as The Wheel, Triquetral Accord, et cetera. The Last Days is it's own caern, as are these unnumbered-but-at-least-three 'Northern Caerns.' Are those all one sept? Or are there Septs for each one, or some combination of the two?"

"There are septs for each one," Sandra replies. "I'm sure there's a point in history where a single sept attempted to control multiple caerns, mind, but that would take a far larger population than we have, at the moment. Seeing to the spiritual and physical health of each location is a daunting enough task, and purchasing the buffer zone of land that surrounds it is a financial nightmare. So-- one sept, one caern." Beat. "Now," she says, "mind you, there are broader politics to take into consideration, but-- best to think of each one as states, and the overreaching political body as something of a loose federal government. Some adhere to it, some don't, but they play within the same general ruleset."

Zach nods, "Okay. That makes sense, then." He studies the timeline further, squinting at the paper even though he has a model in his own memory. "Wendigo... that's the... social-outcasts-maybe-due-to-canibalism-but-probably-thats-a-lot-of-white-people-being-shitty thing, right? Tribal designation? Like Glass Walker and Bone Gnawer? The 'thing-doer' as a proper noun seems likely to be a group designator, anyway..."

"Correct," Sandra replies. "Wendigo is the tribal designation of indigenous peoples specific to North America. They claim lineage with nearly every Native tribe that exist, or ever existed here at one time or another. Their totem spirit *is*, ah-- known-- for cannibalistic tendancies, but given that the tribe I was born to claims the Fenris wolf as its progenitor--" She shrugs. "There's a lot of glass houses to throw stones at these days. In any event, they isolate themselves more than the reverse, though that is more the 'white people being shitty' side of the coin. The Glass Walkers and Bone Gnawers are more-- conglomerate tribes, based on common ethos than on any specific lineage."

"Fenris Wolf... like... kills-Odin-and-swallows-the-sun-thus-ending-the-world Fenrir?" Zach shakes his head. "I mean... that's metal as fuck and all, but /yikes/." One of those 'Zach can't not take the shot' kinds of moments. "Okay, so... who/where is Cypress Rising?"

Sandra nods to the question, and allows for another faint smile at the observation, her brows arching as she raises her coffee for another sip-- less careful this time, now that the coffee itself has cooled a little more. She looks back down at the timeline, as if it's even necessary, and says, "Cypress Rising was a sept in Alabama, headed up by a tribe known as the Black Furies, though some of my own tribemates held office in the upper eschelons of the sept itself-- Mercy being one of them." Another brief sip, and she looks over at him. "The Furies, for reference, are a tribe made up entirely of women. They are to the Nation as the Wendigo are-- just replace 'white people' with 'men' and you get the general idea."

Zach lifts an eyebrow at the description, of the Furies, and files that away. "Noted. Okay, so something bad happens down in 'bama, and they come up here under under fire. I'm guessing 'moon bridge' denotes some kind of warp, braid, or portal to get you from one place to another in a big hurry... they helped Magpie become part of the local deal here... but I thought Magpie was part of The Last Days? Or is that not a conflict because Magpie's like... a patron saint or something?"

Sandra nods to the question of moon bridges, not really going into detail just yet. Instead, it's the latter point she addresses. "Magpie was part of the Wheel, too-- back when it *was* the Wheel. The thing about totem spirits is that they're--" She considers. "They're individuals in and of themselves, often with their own names. So the Magpie that was present at the Wheel wasn't the same one from Cypress Rising, and the one at Last Days--" She considers. "Well. It may have been the same one from Cypress Rising. I'm not clear on that yet. Nor," she says, pointing out the event of 'bringing Magpie back' in question, "am I entirely clear of the details on this. I only know that the Wheel's own Magpie vanished of her own accord, and a member of the sept was tasked with bringing her back."

Zach has to take some of that as read, without really fully understanding the implications - but he's also fairly comfortable doing so, from his demeanor. "Okay, so then in '96 Last Days is 'retaken.' But... when was it lost? Salamander was ousted... who was that?"

Sandra points to the note above the Cold War entry, "Here is my best guess," said with some vague irritation-- not at him, but more at having to guess at all. "I'm not sure when that particular caern fell - turned into a Pit, which is--" a near imperceptible pause before, "essentially the same thing, just Wyrm-oriented," is said, "but it seems a safe guess that it either occurred when European settlers arrived, or when the Hanford Site went into operation." She looks up at him. "Either could be equally plausible, but-- I'd like to know when it fell, to be sure. There could be more recorded history about it that we're not hearing.
"As for Salamander-- that's another Totem spirit. This one, in particular, has a strange history. He's a-- quasi-fallen spirit of sorts. Some say he's corrupted by the Weaver-- other, the Wyrm. Others still say both, while still acknowledging that he will pay homage to, ah--" A pause. "Well. To Gaia," she says, finally. Almost grudgingly. "Your guess is as good as mine, on that one.
"Obviously, this particular Totem was more corrupted than its progenitor, or the rest of his brood, as he was right at home in a Pit, but - according to my sources - any individual Salamander is always on the cusp. Which makes sense. He's thought to be easily manipulated; hungry, always, to the point of madness. What he can't consume, he despises, and, over time, has come to represent oil fires. What he represented initially--" She shrugs. "I don't know. Spirits aren't exactly my forte."
Another slight pause. Then, "The latest dream I had, though," she says. "The one I recalled while meditating? Salamander was a primary component of that particular dream, and, interestingly-- while, before, Last Days as a Pit was thought of as lackluster for where it was - Hanford would typically be thought of as a boon by most of the Wyrm's wolves - it thrived under Salamander's patronage."

"Hunger symbolism jives with how the Ooze works," Zach agrees, or observes perhaps. "Okay, so. Is the Salamander at The Last Days not the same Salamander that I guess took up residence at Cypress Rising? And... if it was the cold war, and Last Days was underperforming, that suggests that this Reaver is also a spirit affiliated with the Last Days? Or is this another 'underperforming' pit? I sound like a Bain Capital consultant about now, don't I?"

Sandra may not get the reference but at least she gets the gist enough to find it faintly amusing. She sobers, though, and says, "Reaver is the only totem I'm aware of that oversaw Last Days, and that one I'm not as familiar with. It could be that he-- she, it-- was a replacement for something else, but it was the spirit overseeing the Pit prior to Salamander. As for whether or not it's the same Salamander--" She shrugs. "Again-- I can't say for certain. Its history as a Pit isn't easily accessible to me, which is partly why I suggested approaching the Spiral Dancers, but-- well." They've been over why that would probably be a bad idea. "In any event, it's another irritating question mark. But yes-- overwhelming hunger works well with the Ooze, and his affinity for toxic fires could certainly translate to radioactivity. The preferred delicacy of our not-so-little cosmic nightmare."

"Question about that," Zach asks, going back for second danish. "Is this actually /eating/ radiation? Or is it eating the bonds that hold the particles together. Radioactivity is basically matter decomposing at the subatomic level. That's... borderline what the Lion's Roar, for example, does: it breaks the bonds that hold stuff together until it dissolves into it's most basic, primoridal form. If it's eating the radiation itself... that's pretty interesting. If it's eating the bonds that hold shit together, thus /producing/ radiation... that's a very different, and kind of even more horifying notion."

Seeing him return for seconds, Sandra is reminded that she's yet to finish her first, the pastry raised to take a quick bite out of it as the questions are posed, this, too, washed down with a sip of coffee. She tilts her head slightly, visibly thinking the question over, and-- well, yes, grimacing subtly at what's amended.
"The only thing I know is that it's been frequently cited as 'loving' radiation. Be it waste, or radiation itself, it's an attractant to it. Obviously, I haven't been in a situation where it's possible to witness how it 'eats' radiation in the first place, so I can't say for certain which variant it is. And we can't say for certain that someone might have noticed a greater rate of radiation coming from that consumption because-- well. By the time the Nothing is done eating, that radiation would have technically never existed in the first place."

"Gotcha," Zach says, nodding. "So for all we know it just really loves the sound cosmic rays make as they tear shit up on their way through. There's no accounting for taste, after all." Which is where he's moving on again. "So this Moon-Laughs-Quiet character and this fetish activation... Not gonna lie? That sounds like a fucking raid. Confirmed by the fact that the caern dies. Who is this person?"

Sandra gives a vague shrug. "Someone important at the time," she says. "A Child of Gaia, I think. A tribe that's the closest thing to 'obligate pacifists' as werewolves have." Beat. "They were a shaman, as I recall, or Theurge, as we call them, but don't quote me on that. As for the story itself-- I've had to rely on a lot of outside sources to get the bulk of this information, as strange as that sounds, so it's not entirely clear what all occurred, at the time.
"The thing about our use of Fetishes, though, is that using one-- In case you're not familiar, it's an object bound with a spirit of some kind, usually to increase its potency, but effects can vary. Spirits are bound - by agreement - to everything from weapons, to earrings, to-- I've heard of gym bags being one of them. Either way, if you've retrieved one with which you're unfamiliar, you can attempt to attune yourself to it, learn about the spirit inside, but it takes activating it to know what it does. In this case, it sounds more like a trap laying in wait. Wyldlings are notoriously unpredictable, and-- well. I'm not sure what its bargain was, or with whom it was struck."

"Okay, so unsuspecting patsy sets off bomb that destroys Triquetral Accord? Few months later Hiudden Walk - is that the same thing, new-name, new-management? I guess it has to be, because Last Days exists here." He taps the box below. "Wheel Eater... 'Wyrm' is the destroyer aspect of the Trimurti-like thing... but so would Wheel Eater. Is there a distinction there?"

"First-- I know it's a headache keeping all these names in order," Sandra says, "but it was still the Wheel Renewed before the Wyldling 'fulfilled its bargain.' After that, Chimera took over as totem and it, yes, became the Hidden Walk. New name, new totem. Second--" She looses a slow sigh. "Both the Eater and the Builder are *highly* reminiscent of Wyrm and Wyld, but neither "read" as being a part of either of those entities. Our ability to sense for Wyrm and Wyld - or even Weaver - may not be infallable, but for something this massive, it's highly improbable - Black Swan improbability - that it wouldn't have at least registered as such if it *was* of the Wyrm. Never mind that the entire Blue Mountain range should be reeking of Wyld, more than it is already.
"I'd suggested that, perhaps, this might be because we're dealing with the Wyrm-that-Was, not the Wyrm-that-Is, which is to say, a fragment of it from a time before it went hopelessly insane, and most people I've proposed it to have just rolled their eyes at me. I suspect because they've already asked the question, and the answer has again and again been a resounding 'no.'
"...But that doesn't really answer your question, does it?" she says, after a moment.

"It does and it doesn't. What I hear is: there's basically no chance that this 'unknown' wyrm presence wasn't a panic in the face of this Wheel Eater waking up and... I guess eating some wheels all over the place?
"'Wheel Eater' is an interesting title, here. The symbolism of the Wheel as a model for the universe existing in a cyclic state. A 'wheel eater' would be an entity whose presence or activities represented a chance for the world to truly 'end' rather than enter a new cycle of rebirth.
"From the big bang/big crunch theory to various Hindu beliefs, and really the world all over, this notion that nothing ever truly dies is pretty popular." He speaks of it as if he firmly doesn't buy into the idea, himself. "And you've got the Wheel Builder over here in 2012, which is... /really/ a deviation from the whole cyclical universe thing unless this is basically God and The Devil - or some form thereof."

"The 'big bang/big crunch' theory is admittedly why I got a little excited when I found out about LIGO, in the 400 Area of the Hanford Site," Sandra says, even if it might be a bit difficult to imagine 'excited' as a trait she can exhibit. "'Black hole' and 'big bang' or, at least, 'supermassive white hole' are comfortable analogies for the Eater and the Builder, even if it's not, ah-- a very comfortable theory, as to their nature. For obvious reasons.
"As for the deviation," she says, "that's where the race to create a City Caern came in. Jebediah Regan, the founder of St. Claire, has been-- embodied, in a way, as the spirit of the city itself. Or the city-that-was, anyway. There was a new spirit that made herself known at roughly the same time, named Claire," because of course she's named Claire, "that embodied the city's future more than its past.
"Both were vying for consideration as the totem of a city caern, which was being thought of as an alternative to dealing with the Wyld threat at the then-sleeping Hidden Walk. Jeb, wanting to impress the Garou looking to build the caern itself - which isn't a thankless job, it should be noted, as the spirit is both cared for and granted much greater power - tapped into the Builder and, apparently, woke it. In his own words. Before it was meant to be awakened.
"The problem with this as being 'the reason it all happened' is-- well. The Ancient, the one that coined the names 'Wheel Builder' and 'Wheel Eater,' seemed to indicate that these entities are kept relatively 'appeased' by caerns being placed over these two geographic locations. And the Wyld surge that overtook the place - which has since been attributed to the Builder - apparently happened *before* Jeb decided to 'poke' at the Builder. So was it a case that the Builder was already waking, and this just accelerated things? Was the Eater, itself, already awake, but laying in wait for some reason?"

"And with the shit going on with Ghost, time is now also no longer necessarily a straight line as any of this matters, which means temporality may not help much with cause and effect - but if that's true we're just fucked so setting it aside for now...
"That leaves us wondering what caused any or all of this. So that's who Jeb is. And the last wildcard." His finger hits 2009. "This Jacinta person challenges someone named Adren, fails, but she chases a 'Mage' - is Adren the 'Mage?' And why does what they're doing need cleansed... finally, if this 'Mage' escaped... how does that word come to be applied here, by whom, and to mean what?"

To Sandra's credit, she doesn't smirk or seem amused by the misinterpretation, raising a hand with a dismissive wave. "Adren is a rank," she says. "There are five, in total, recognized by both our people, and by the spirits. Adren would be best thought of as-- an NCO, I suppose. The highest ranks among the 'enlisted,' with all the leadership and responsibility that entails - on both a militaristic, community-building, and teaching level - and tends to be the highest rank that most werewolves can ascend to.
"Fostern, which is what I am, personally, is more of a veteran. Still in the trenches with the junior enlisted, the Cliaths, and entrusted with a certain amount of leadership, but on a much smaller scale. Ultimately, what it means is that they've proven themselves comfortable with their Auspice, their duties, and their tribe, and are recognized as such. If you *haven't* made Fostern within five or seven years of having changed-- something is very wrong.
"That said: to raise in rank, one challenges a member of their own tribe or Auspice for a task that's meant to show they're up to facing the demands of their new role. In Jacinta's case, that was to lead an attack against a foe that required more than brute strength." Beat. "Jacinta is an Ahroun," she says. "A full moon. Our 'warrior caste,' if you will. Her path to leadership is best thought of as that of a general. Thus, she was afforded the opportunity to take control of a situation, outpace an enemy that could potentially run circles around her, and cleanse the area she was working with, in the meantime. Which is to say, purify it of all Wyrm taint.
"As for who or what the 'Mage' was, I haven't had the chance to ask her. I've been meaning to, granted, but she's been difficult to find, lately. More a visitor these days, than an active member of the sept."

"That's one of those words that gets slapped around without folks really knowing what they're talking about," Zach clarifies about the m-word. "Case in point, your bro, James." 'Bro,' here, isn't a compliment, nor a familial designator. "For whatever it's worth, if you want to talk to her about it or I do, doesn't matter to me; but what matters here is who that really was. If that was the Old Man, for example? That makes his involvement there and his becoming ensnared around that time - which you want a hard date for - more likely. If it wasn't him... then we really want to know who it /was/. If it was, for example, a Union agent and they survived? We'll need to be real careful we don't get marked as targets if it suddenly becomes Black Helicopter O'clock. If it's more properly a Hermeticist - the sort of person where the word 'Mage' actually applies," the way he says 'applies' suggests it's a grudging sort of acceptance of the term even if he still doesn't like it, "then we might have a potential ally or someone else we can get more information from."

Sandra doesn't look inclined to argue with him on any of it. All told, when he mentions the Old Man, the way she inclines her head suggests what she says at his conclusion. Namely: "That's precisely why the note got included. I'd absolutely like to know if it's relevant, and if this particular-- whatever you'd like to call him has some insights of their own. Granted-- we won't have made the best impression with Jacinta trying to kill him, if this *is* unrelated, but that's where you have more room to manuever than I do.
"That said-- I'll admit, I use 'Mage' as shorthand - a catch-all - largely because it's a term all Garou understand, and it's-- neutral. Also means precisely what you said: that I really don't know what I'm talking about. If you have a better term that's easily understood and not something I have to explain at length to those giving the chart a once-over, though - beyond 'warper,' of course - then I'd be perfectly all right with using it."
"--Or at least adding a short glossary in the corner to make the terms more understandable."

Zach gives a snort at the use of 'neutral.' "There isn't a term that gives you a blanket shorthand for what 'Mage' connotes, beyond 'Mage.' It's oppressive language is the only thing. Not in the usual sense, I suppose, but... identifying oneself as a 'Mage' is a performative act of oppression." He shrugs. "Which is neither here nor there, really. The word got used in this case for a reason, and usually that reason isn't 'I really don't like this guy.' So either this person used the word to self-identify, indicated a Hermetic or some other craft or tradition is in play, or the word got applied by someone else... indicating some kind of interaction that I want to know more about so that I have some sense of what might actually be going on...
"Because you use the word 'Mage' when you think someone did something impossible, aka 'they used magic.' Literally the same root."

"And the sept's other ally won't tell me word one about how any of this is done, much less what a 'tradition' or 'craft' is," Sandra replies, "so I'm effectively flying blind on all of it. What little I'm given is what little I'm able to work with." Which does have a not of impatience to it, but it doesn't sound like it's directed at him. This 'other ally', though... "Speaking frankly, you're the only one that's been the least bit forthcoming. So while I can apologize if it came off as offensive, or belittling in some way, I'm only working with what little I've got. Personally, I would *greatly* prefer to know the distinctions."

Zach shrugs, "It's a reltively minor thing, when all is said and done. Tradition and craft are... fairly interchangable, depending on the cultural context you're speaking within. Traditions are... exactly what you're used to; a set of beliefs, practices, and norms that are passed forward by previous generations to the new ones and continued because of some presumption that those who came before had some sense of what they were doing. In Hermeticism, a 'Tradition' is a specific strain of Hermetic practice not unlike what someone might mean by a 'sect.' Interestingly, within the formal Order of Hermes, they use the word 'House' to identify this sort of thing, and use 'Tradition' to distinguish themselves from a cluster of other orders - some formal some... very much not. 'Craft' means the same sort of thing, but you usually see it referring to different substrains of Wiccan or Verbenic pratices. Again, Hermetics use it to describe groups they'd otherwise call 'Traditions'... except when they say 'Craft' they mean that... but without any legitimacy or respect for it given. Also interchangable here are terms like 'convention,' 'congregation,' 'school,' 'discipline,' 'style,' and so on.
"Sorry you asked, yet?"

"I know you're being facetious," Sandra replies, "but no, actually. It's a lot to take in, but I'd rather spend time untangling it and risking a headache than not knowing at all. I can accept flying blind if it's necessary - or if the person in question with the necessary information isn't comfortable giving it all out at once - but it's been frustrating. Either the concepts are over my head, or I'm being talked down to like I'm an imbecile."
She pauses-- shakes her head a little. "That's unfair," she says, finally. "He did apologize. But that doesn't stop him from being cagey, and making my job that much harder for it. So-- no. I'm not sorry I asked." A pause. "And there's more I'd like to ask about - a *lot* more, especially where it comes to the Union, the Old Man-- all of it - but speaking of 'cagey' and 'not the least bit forthcoming'-- there is one piece in this puzzle that hasn't been delved into with too much detail just yet. One that I'd hoped you might help me with-- and that's Ghost. Speaking to her-- or at the very least, observing *you* speaking to her. I'd prefer to leave her be, but, as with not knowing specifics where it comes to all these details, not knowing about *her*, as well as her future echo, has left me at a loss."

Zach sighs, nodding and leaning against the counter. "Well, from what you've told me, 'our' Ghost, which isn't really a good way to put it, doesn't know jack or shit about this. She's generally willing to help, but plenty of folks are viewing her as a tool or consumable resource to be expended if this situation gets out of hand. She's got zero reason to cooperate with that, and from what I gather, she isn't exactly welcomed by folks with open arms. The other Ghost, I guess, is from the future. Not an echo, it's /exactly/ the same Ghost. She's seen shit, but doesn't speak, last I understood... though I guess that's a little fuzzy these days. If you're going to want me to talk to her? It's only fair to warn you: What future Ghost thinks and wants is gonna matter a /lot/, to me."

"I know," Sandra replies. "No one's throwing her to th--" She pauses-- frowns, and says, "I'm not looking to throw her overboard, or deem her as somehow 'less than,' in her current state, and thus expendable. And this is leaving aside the fact that Jack doesn't trust me going anywhere near her *without* you around, which tells me that even making the assessment would be enough to have him out for blood.
"That aside-- 'our' Ghost is still strongly connected to this. Has dreams, regularly, some of which I haven't yet had the chance to ask her about. Saying nothing of what I've heard of her umbral reflection. That she looks different in the Umbra, and has ever since her blood was first put to use." A pause. "I'm not asking for her to have the answers, I'm just looking for her to answer some questions, and take it from there. Like it or not, she may have insights she doesn't know she has, and failing to ask her about it would be negligent, at this point. Unfortunately."

Zach nods, once, and spreads his arms out helplessly. "I mean, you don't need me to ask her stuff, but if you want me around I'm happy to be there. I haven't seen her in a while and checking in seems like a solid plan. The future ghost... yeah, Jack's... he's a bit thick headed at times but he seems like good people. Either way, though, I'm happy to facilitate a conversation there."

"I think she'd be more comfortable with someone in her corner here, regardless," Sandra replies. "Someone who can call me out - and *will* call me out - if I'm overstepping my boundaries, which I'm positive you can be counted on to manage. Several times over, if need be." This, noted with a hint of wry amusement, however underplayed. At least it's somewhat fond, at this point. "The echo-- I'm not entirely sure how to approach. Brings-the-Pack, the other--" she makes a vague gesture, "he calls himself a warper, so that's as good as any. Walks around the caern in the form of a cougar. But he seems to have had only limited success, and it sounded like it took linking directly into her mind for it to happen."

Zach grins, yes, he takes her confidence in his ability as a compilment. "If he calls himself that, then... yeah, the term applies." The mention about linking directly to her mind... doesn't make Zach super comfortable. Still, that's not a thing he's holding against her for saying it happened. "So which one do you want to talk to first, then? Ours? Or the future her?"

"It's a good question," Sandra replies. "Frankly, I, ah-- was thinking of asking her if she'd met this 'future self.' Or spoken to her much already." Beat. "On the other hand, the future version might have insights that are helpful to her, if we can break through somehow." She gives a slight shrug. "Which is to say, I'm a little on the fence about it. Do you have a preference?"

"I think, before we introduce Ghost to her future self, we should ask each of them if that's even a thing they want to see happen. Starting with Future Ghost... because she's the one with more information on the matter. Depending on how that goes, we could ring our Ghost. I... don't remember if Jack had an opinion about the two of them meeting, or if our Ghost has even been informed about what's going on there. But... also, that's the one that you /need/ me around for."

"It's a fair point," Sandra says-- then pauses for a moment. She gives a nod, after a while, then says, "Jack gave me directions to the bunker she's in. Under sworn oath that I wouldn't go without you, or a member of his pack. I'd say we could go there together, and come back here to call 'our' Ghost once we're done, but I have no earthly idea how much time we'll be spending out there, so-- I'll leave that up to you."

"It's not like I have a job or anything," Zach offers, more shrugging along for the ride. "This shit's important, let's get it done." This, of course, prompts him for THIRD DANISH. Because hey, one for the road. "You driving or am I? Or we taking two cars?" He's fine with either, says his tone.

The decision is made to take the one car instead of both, with Sandra taking the wheel. The Marauder is a nice ride, at least, and she is a perhaps surprisingly calm driver, given the temper he's seen her exhibit before. Or perhaps not at all. Keeping everyhting bottled up as tightly as she does, it's bound to come rushing out at random moments eventually.
It's neither here nor there when they get moving, however, as she's back to discussing a number of bullet points that still have yet to be covered, and it's a concern she's raised before more than once.
"I just feel like we're missing a lot of crucial items by putting all our efforts into the Eater, not the Builder," she says. "If they *are* two sides of the same coin - and, at this point, we've been given little reason to believe that they aren't - then we're only working with half of the picture, not all of it."

Zach nods, making much less eye contact in general while a passenger, and instead keeping his gaze focused on the outside as it passes them by. "Makes sense, I guess. Now we're into the weeds in places I don't know much or have much to offer, sadly. The Eater, at least, there's physical evidence of; something I can poke and prod at and get a grip on what we're up against. Ironically, this builder... doesn't seem to leave much or do much that anyone I know about gives a crap over. So maybe we should start there. If the Eater is supposedly shacking up at Hanford... where's it's other side. Same place? Or somewhere else?"

"Blue Mountains," Sandra replies. "And there is some tangible evidence of the Builder. Wyld energies, to some extent-- it's credited with the Wyldling invasion that took place in the sept, the one referenced in the timeline?" Beat. "It was also responsible for a series of earthquakes that hit the region, through no known fault line, beginning in August of 2014, and ending roughly around November of 2015. One of those quakes hit a magnitude of 5.9, to give you an idea of how severe it got. Mount St. Helens and Mount Rainier both registered increased seismic activity, besides. I'm having Reagan look into whether or not that activity has continued, but-- according to reports, there's also been increased flora and fauna around Mount St. Helens specifically, in recent years. So while it may not be quite as unearthly, there's still signs of it."

"That all sounds a lot safer to approach, then, than Hanford. As long as 'fauna' doesn't get more exotic than mountain lions and bears and oh my." Zach thinks for a moment. "If there's an energetic component and you can put me on site, I can probably spend some time crawling around the countryside sniffing it out. If it's as diffuse as all that geography... it'll take me a while. Dowsing's not a fast art, but if we can get near enough to it, maybe someone could have a chat with the Builder. Assuming it's cogent enough for conversation, anyway."

"That," Sandra says, "would be inadvisable, unfortunately. It's slow to wake, and we want to keep it that way, which, I imagine, is partly why it hasn't been studied as closely. One 'poke' was all it took to kick this off, and those earthquakes were described as little more than a 'yawn.' Not a stretch. A 'yawn.' So while observing its effects is certainly doable-- interacting with it directly could mean flattening entire mountain ranges. If we're not careful."

"Which makes most of the more direct methods of examination also... more complicated. Still, something with power along those lines is going to let off a lot of signature, though. So it might still be possible to learn something by simply being exposed to and present around it. That's spaghetti at the wall, though."

"Maybe," Sandra replies, "but it's something." A light huff. "No pun intended." Beat. "It's possible that sniffing it out won't do much to accelerate how quickly it wakes, but I'd want to check up on that. Apparently, Jeb speaks actual English, so I don't need a translator to consult with him about it, so an answer on that shouldn't be too difficult to get. And, obviously, I'd be accompanying you in case you do run into the 'oh my' part of the equation." A pause. "Giant wasps, for example." This, said more under her breath than anything else.

"Giant. Wasps?" Zach looks over her way for this one. "Wasps are shitheads to begin with. That's just uncalled for, right there." As his gaze sweeps back out, he's floating another idea. "Yeah I figure just meditating and communing with the natural environment around the thing shouldn't even be noticed. Like the difference between active and passive sonar. But when you do that it's... vague, and usually interpreted through your own frame of reference. No two people who do that are gonna come away with the same impression."

The look Sandra shoots in Zach's direction may as well be interpreted as 'Right?' more than anything. Wasps are assholes. It's in their contract.
"I'd planned on including others on trips like these to get a broader range of ideas about the entity," she says, "mostly because one might notice something the others don't, but that's just one more reason to ensure that we've got as many 'passive' eyes on it as we can get. Within reason. Finding the common thread may not be easy, but it should at least eliminate any-- perceptual white noise."

"Well that sounds like a plan for an expedition, then. I've got some gear, but probably not enough for more than four or five, including me. More than that and we'd need a bigger stove, at the very least. It'll be getting cold, so if we want to do this before Spring, you'll want folks who are cold-weather certified unless you want to do it in drips and drabs out of a base camp with like... a helicopter."

"I'm capable of leading people into the mountains," Sandra replies, with the kind of offhanded confidence that suggests a healthy self-assuredness that somehow manages not to come off as sheer arrogance. "You'll be the one in need of a stove, granted, but-- save for only a couple members of the sept that claim Arabian wolves as their counterpart lineage, most of us come with a built-in fur coat. One that makes weather like this a little *too* warm, in some cases."

Zach chuckles. "I mean, I don't /need/ it, either. But hot meals are still nice things to have and it's gonna get real dull wandering back and forth in the mountains until we figure out where we should park ourselves. Still, I can just take care of myself if that's what you're saying."

"So you say," Sandra replies. "I've always rather enjoyed the 'wandering' phase, personally-- but I understand that not everyone can be expected to share that particular hobby." A pause. "In any event," she says, "it won't be an issue. I used to take hiking trips on Wyoming often enough that I never let go of most of the gear that went with me. Hot meals won't be a problem."

"Then yeah, I'm your Huckleberry. Just let me know when you want to head up and where we should start. I'll be there with very wooly bells on. Any other leads on this thing beyond just 'stuff up in them there hills' we can poke at in the meantime?"

"What Jeb said," Sandra says, "and keep in mind I'm getting this second-hand from Jack, is that-- the Builder was described as having been here so long that it's a part of-- nearly everything here. The mountains, the rivers, the foothills, the valleys. There's also the note in the timeline, from the 1800's-- about the cataclysmic explosion from Mount St. Helens. The rumors about the spiritual composition of the mountain-- changing somehow." Beat. "I realize that's just more 'stuff up there in the hills,' and, in this case, 'up on a volcano capable of incredible destruction,' but it's a lead, at least. Like I said, I have Reagan looking in on it, seeing if any of the reports have changed. But-- based on what Jeb said, it's entirely possible that you may be able to sense it by just wandering out into a stretch of wilderness, and meditating on it."

"Lots of background noise, but I guess I can do my morning yoga basically anywhere so..." He shrugs. "I'll let you know if anything stands out when I think on it. Helens... would be a helluva trip though, yeah." He falls silent, now. Perhaps unclear on what else there is he might speak to, and instead electing to roll thoughts around in his head and see if any of them interact.

"Agreed." A pause; allowing for him to fall silent for a while, until she says, "I'll have to ask my superiors if it's viable or not to give you the general directional bearing of the caern itself. Or if it's possible to let you get used to the 'vibe' of it, somewhere close to the protected border. Just so you can become accustomed to the kind of energy it's generating, and what it isn't."

Zach's quiet a bit longer, one of those laden silences. "You mean Harbor Park?" Shrug. "Already found it. When I come to a town, I like to case the place first. Doubly so in case the riots had actually gotten to y'all first, rumors to the contrary notwithstanding."

There's another pause. Then, Sandra says, "No." Beat. "Harbor Park has a glade. Same idea, but-- on a much smaller scale." She glances towards him; doesn't say outright that even saying that has a great deal of trust put into it, but the look says enough on its own, in that respect. Other than that, her eyes are on the road. "If you're familiar with its rhythms, though," she says carefully - almost as if the next couple words could strike her dead - "how it feels-- have a sense of it, you should be able to parse the 'signal' for what it is."

"Huh," Zach says, impressed. "Y'all did a solid job hiding it from my sweep then. That's part of why you're still standing." For him, this is all a much more casual affair - but nothing in his demeanor suggests he's scoffing at the implied trust. "Don't worry, if I do stumble upon something like that, I do know how to knock first."

Sandra offers a faint smile, shoulders that have gone tight relaxing a little. "Good," she says. "I may appear to be the sept's curator, but I have my orders as a regular Guardian. It'd be depressing to be told to put an end to someone I've come to like thanks to something as trivial as not knowing the right hand signals."

Zach smirks over at her, "D'awww, you /do/ care. Just for that touching moment? I'm gonna spare you the petulant strutting about who could take who in what fight." He will not, however, spare her whatever swagger he can cram into how he's sitting in the passenger's seat. "At least now I've got stuff to keep me busy again. Was getting itchy just doing drills and scrounging for cash."

At least Sandra's being a good sport about it, raising a finger to her lips to give a little shushing motion at that whole 'caring' thing. She sobers, though, and gives a short nod, saying, "I was getting to the end of my rope focusing on the Eater, myself, quite honestly. Then I worked up a flowchart on the Builder and realized we knew-- almost nothing. I just have to hope that the sept isn't so fatigued by the enormity of it all that they're willing to put in some more footwork."