gmlogbox | [Sandra] :: LOG :: But These Are Just Speculations (Reply)

Mid-day.
At the edge of Brings-the-Pack's territory, there comes a howl. There's a signal-flare urgency to it, though there doesn't seem to be any warnings of impending threats. Unless, of course, one counts the lone Shadow Lord as just such a threat.
She's in homid by the time he arrives, looking worse for wear in comparison to the brief run-in at the Edgewood House. Though she's alert, there's a faint lividity to her lower eyelids, the fatigued look giving some insight into why that might be the case.

There's no immediate response. Not for a good minute. Maybe the cougar-mage isn't present or has other things he's tending to? And then there's a whisper in the ear that's so faint, it borders on perhaps not having even happened. The feline-purr accent, however, helps to assure that it did. "Come. In." Yet there's no one around. No one visible, at least. "Come. In." Twice in a row makes it hard(er) to dismiss as having just imagined having heard something.

A flicker of discomfort flashes over the Philodox's features; a furrow in her brow that's sustained by the time she takes a tentative step forward, past the territory marker she was warned about before. Again there's a pause - as if to sense for the impulse she felt when first she was introduced to it - followed by a push towards the path that she recalls from her previous visit.

The path down into the mountain bowl is uneventful and unimpeded. As the Shadow Lord approaches the glade, entering the mist and fog, the forest becomes more primordeal-looking. Even on a sunny and temperate mid-day, the moisture in the air obscures vision beyond a couple hundred feet. At night, it might be a little more frightening. By day, there's a rainbow that seems to travel with you. At the heart of the glade, with the boulder nearby, the cougar-mage awaits. "Good afternoon to you," he offers as a greeting. The even mildly perceptive would probably note that the cougar is half-transparent, mist wrapping around his form like an outline, ground and trees visible through him. "What brings you here?"

For all her discomfort at the beginning of all this, Sandra seems not the least bit bothered by the remainder of the trip, though she's careful to scuff her feet every twenty feet or so, likely in case the mist gets any thicker. A trail, of sorts, to make her way back out.
Brings-the-Pack gets a curious look when she sees him, but for as many idle questions as she might have, she seems most inclined to get straight down to business: "The mage," she says. "The one that's involved himself with the Nothing." A pause. "I've only been given peripheral knowledge of him; of what he means to what's going on. Emma and I both are attempting to put together as much material as we can on him, and everything else that's been discovered over the years about the phenomenon he's, apparently, become so thoroughly wrapped up in." Another pause follows-- and she thinks for a time.
Then, "I'm aware that there are trade secrets you won't talk about, but there are some questions that may veer uncomfortably close to that topic, as a matter of necessity."

Brings-the-Pack listens attentively as you speak. Once you've finished, his ears splay slightly in an unmistakeable indication of amusement. "So this is to be an inquisition as opposed to a discussion?"

"That's for you to decide, I suppose," Sandra says, apparently a touch too tired to be irritated by the show of amusement; or, perhaps, she wouldn't be, anyway. "I've found that the clandestine nature in which information is shared in this sept has been to its detriment, as not everyone is on the same page. I'm attempting to rectify that-- and I only thought it fair to mention up front that if my questions seem prying, it's not for any underhanded purpose. I only want to know who this man is, and what his involvement entails, from someone who would know better than, perhaps, a Garou would."

Brings-the-Pack seems to consider what's been said to him with some gravity. Maybe more than intended, and maybe not. He gestures with his right forepaw to the boulder nearby. "Have a seat. Ask what you will. I will answer with what I can."

If there's relief in hearing that, Sandra isn't showing it, though the offer of a seat is accepted more readily than it would be otherwise. "Thank you," she says, 'settling in' as best as one can, under the circumstances. "You should know I'm prepared to offer what I can in trade, if that makes an exchange on less-- palatable topics more comfortable for you. How it's presented to the others can be discussed, at length, if need be." A pause. "Though the clandestine approach has been pushed to a detriment, it still has its uses. Assuming - of course - that what I have is of succifient interest. But I believe it is, given what's been discussed in the past."

"Some things are free, some cost, and some are priceless," the cougar-mage replies levelly, indicating there are certain lines he will not cross. "So. Tell me what it is you have learned from Emma, and what currently vexxes you."

"The dreams," Sandra replies bluntly, not seeming to have any quarrels with the tacit boundaries. "First and foremost." A pause. "As for what I've learned..." She thinks on it for a moment-- takes a breath, and begins.
"The mage is wound up in the Nothing somehow, though Emma wasn't able to tell me how. He is, similarly, watching us, as was made apparent by the note he left behind. I have a suspicion that he's relaying the dreams, personally, and that may have been why he thought to eavesdrop, if that's indeed possible."
Another pause. "I know that Ghost has a connection to it that she can't discern, but that it - that the dreams, rather, have been with her for the better part of her life. I know that she recognized some of the imagery I cited, whereas others, she didn't. And I know that The Last Days caern continues to factor into much of what we know, with Magpie and her children, earthly or otherwise, as a recurring theme. I also know that they're missing; and that, if the Mage is responsible for relaying the dreams, he finds this troubling enough to broadcast." She pauses; shakes her head, and says, "Not that the eradication of a species from a single geographic location isn't troubling enough, but I think you understand by meaning."

"Magpies are such pretty birds, too." Brings-the-Pack seems sympathetic to the missing wildlife. "I believe, also, that the earlier dreams pointed towards a location of a tribe that used to have a village along the river near what is now Hanford, and that Magpie was to be sought there. That place was located, but then nothing came of it. At least that I'm aware of." He adds for your benefit, "Sometimes what appears like secrecy is merely poor communication." He continues. "Other threats--The Queen--took center stage. I do not know if the location of the ancient village is the same spot as Last Days." A pause. "And perhaps I should not." Another pause. "But that seems like a good place to start. Finding Magpie--or freeing the magpies--might help to reveal valuable information that is being hidden by... something or someone. Something or someone who does not want information to be shared."

Sandra gives a slight shake of her head, that furrow in her brow reappearing. "It's certianly a place to start, yes." Beat. "It's strange, though, isn't it? For an entity described as 'Nothing' to have wants." She likely knows it wasn't a literal turn of phrase, but nonetheless, the unspoken side of that speculation is there. "And what about our so-called friend and self-appointed overseer? Do you have any idea how he ties into all of this?"

"Our comprehension is likely somewhat limited by our perceptions, and I believe The Nothing interacts with our reality--and perhaps beyond--in ways we do not comprehend with our limited senses. I have some theories, but they are wild guesses, unsubstantiated by anything, devilishly complex even for mages, and would serve only to muddy the waters you are trying to gather." Brings-the-Pack offers, "I might know a few things about the Black Mage." That's apparently his name for the Hanford mage. "I think he was involved with some early work in atomic energies. Much like the city spirit, Jebediah Regan, inadvertently awoke The Something under the Blue Mountains nearby, I suspect the Black Mage inadvertently awoke The Nothing while experimenting with atomic energies."

Sandra gives a slight shake of her head at his initial statements, though, again, it's difficult to tell if she finds the insinuation irritating or offensive. It's the second part that holds her attention, for obvious reasons, expression indicating that, perhaps, she hadn't heard tell of the city spirit's intervention yet.
"I'd spoken with Emma about that," she says. "About how-- fitting it is, how *familiar* it is, the imagery we find ourselves dealing with. That Hanford is the birthplace of the first atomic bomb that was ever created-- a weapon capable of unmaking existence and irreparably damaging the base genetic code of everything it touches." A pause. "But atomic energy is also one of the foundations of how entire galaxies were formed... if we're talking about unsubstantiated, wild guesses. A massively destructive force too ancient to be properly understood that creates something-- more, in its wake. From nothing, to something."
She goes quiet for a moment or two, still watching him. Shakes her head again, and, as if she hadn't just wandered down that particular path, says, "Takes a substantial amount of hubris to play God in a realm of science that paves the way to that kind of devastation. Even more to be littering our paths with cryptic messages, as if to string us along." A pause. "He *is* responsible for the bulk of the 'hints,' though, isn't he? Do you know if he's responsible for the dreams, as well?"

"I imagine that that level of hubris is similar to how some homid garou--not all but some--after they've had their first change and gotten some battles and years under their belts, start to look at humans as being disposable creatures. Or spirits. Or others. Perspectives change over time." A beat, then verbalized introspection from the cougar-mage. "/Everything/ changes with time, save that which is told not to by those who know how. Save that which never grows, never learns, never evolves. Stagnation. Stagnation is no way to go through life." Brings-the-Pack emerges from his digression. "But yes. I suspect the Black Mage is behind the dreams. I have suspicions as to what has happened to him, but they are only suspicions. Nothing for certain."

If Sandra disagrees with his assessment about the Garou, she's not showing it. If anything, a lift of her brows suggests she agress, even if one might get the impression that she finds tying it to her own people is a touch unnecessary. For reasons that have little to do with pride.
The two are deeper inside the cougar-mage's territory. She's seated on a large boulder, not far from the semi-transparent landowner, expression considerate, that fatigue still hanging over her like a looming spectre.
"If he's attuned to the Nothing," she says, "or at least, had a hand in its creation-- if one were being charitable, would it be out of bounds to say that it might be... for lack of a better word, attuned to him?" She looks to the cougar again. "That it can sense him reaching out in ways that aren't as subtle as, say-- depositing dreams in peoples' heads, or presenting hints in various riddles?" Pause. "As it stands, if he *was* listening, he seems to think that what Emma and I spoke about was heading in the right direction."

"I might be able to tell you more about how you were listened to if I were to visit Edgewood and examine where the paper came from." It's an offer for help from a mage, to a garou (or more precisely the garou of the sept), to reveal what another mage might have been overhearing or up to. "I think you misunderstand. The Nothing is. At least, the Black Mage believes it simply is. No beginning. Only a slow awakening from its slumber. And Jebediah, the city spirit, also disturbed the slumber of The Something. Events timed so closely together are rarely coincidences." He hesitates a moment before continuing. "No. No, I think the Black Mage was experimenting with atomic energy and accidentally awoke The Nothing. He did not create it. And I think he was trapped by it. Perhaps able to preserve himself--somehow--from being consumed." He corrects himself. "Not consumed. /Erased./ Not nevermore, but neverwas." A pause. "I think he wants to put The Nothing to sleep again. I think he needs help doing so. But his mind? His mental processes? They've become almost alien, and he has difficulty communicating with the less enlightened." A beat. "I include myself among the less enlightened."

Not expecting company to be out at the cougar-mage's territory again, Heart of Fire makes no howl of approach until she gets to a place where she needs to pinpoint the location of the ever-moving wizard. It goes up simply and with a confident ease. 'Where are you?' is the general feel of the call.

"Fair enough," Sandra says, at least appearing to be piecing more of this together as he speaks. "And I'd appreciate you giving it a look. He clearly knew *I* was there, at least, so it's entirely possible that he's been keeping tabs on me. Or anyone that he 'speaks' to." This, she doesn't seem particulary fond of, but, really, who would be? The howl gets her attention, of course, posture straightening somewhat, a glance cast in the cougar's direction.

Brings-the-Pack closes his eyes for the better part of a minute after the howl goes up, then he re-opens them and continues the conversation. "Emma," he replies to Sandra's unspoken question. He adds, "She'll be here shortly." He resumes, "Do you have the paper with you?"
The pace quickens and, as she gets nearer and starts using her nose to gather up info on the man's whereabouts, she catches another scent. One ear ticks forward, and then she opts to make the rest of the journey by two feet. The shift to homid form comes with the tugging of her hoodie around her neck a bit tighter, and she presses on.

Sandra shakes her head. "Emma has it, actually," she replies. "Hopefully, she brought it with her." She turns in the direction the howl came from again, but, ultimately, her attention rests back on Brings-the-Pack. There's a moment where she looks like she's about to ask something, but, ultimately, decides against it.

Brings-the-Pack nods once to Sandra and then the translucent cougar turns in the directioning Emma will be arriving from any minute now. "Excellent."

And speak of the Get, there she is. Her hands are tucked into the sweatshirts front pocket to give a rather casual looking appearance to her posture. "The coincidences keep coming," she offers with a smile. "I'd come to talk to you about her," Emma's head nods toward Sandra. "She's caught some attention. Thought introducing you two might be an option but you've beat me to it."

Sandra offers a faint smile in return, genuine enough but-- lacking, a bit. No big surprise, there. "I'd met him early on when I arrived, actually," she says. "He was kind enough to give me a tour of his territory." Her attention shifts to the cougarmage, then, and she says, "I don't think I'd told him outright," still addressing Emma in spite of it, "that I'd been having the dreams, but I'm sure he's already pieced it together." A pause; an almost wry smile, partly humorous. "Failure of communication rather than obfuscation, in this case. I think it's safe to say I've been sleeping-- poorly, lately."

Brings-the-Pack speculates at Sandra, "You've been putting some serious thought into The Nothing or the Black Mage recently, I take it? Both? Have other garou been having these visions, or just you?"

Emma shakes her head, "Haven't had anything myself, other than that note that showed up in the garage. But that happened after she and I were talking, so could still be tacked onto her." A lift of her shoulder follows.

"That's partly what I was thinking," Sandra says, in agreement with Emma, "though I'd only heard about the Mage this morning, when she and I spoke. I had been putting more thought into the Nothing, though," she says. "Asking questions where I could. About as much as anyone else, I'd imagine, but-- I haven't heard anyone else mention the dreams, except Ghost."r

Brings-the-Pack asks of Emma, "Do you happen to have the paper from Edgewood with you?" To Sandra he asks, "Would you like me to examine you to see if you are being watched? Or influenced?"

Emma gives a nod to the cougar-mage. She reaches into her back pocket to pull out the zip-locked bag and hand it over. "I've been doing more mundane research on things today, seeing if there's any news coming out of Hanford that matche up with things. Other than a tunnel collapse in May, nothing much else has changed. Though there's a lot of talk that the place is ripe for an explosion. You don't think some of the visions and dreams and talks about things yet to come, do you?"

"I--" Sandra casts a brief glance to Emma, before returning her attention to Brings-the-Pack. "I had a thought on that, actually," she says, though she lets the Athro speak on the matter of Hanford before she says much of anything, listening to what's said with a slight furrow in her brow. Seems to be appearing enough that it may eventually become perpetual.
"The meltdown from that would be sufficiently devastating, at least," she says, breaking the chain of furrows with a slight arch of a brow, instead. "But there may be a way to know with a bit more-- certainty. Potentially." She looks to Brings-the-Pack, then. "Keeping in mind that this is just speculation. I don't even know if this is within your purview, much less something that would be of any help, but--" A pause. A hesitation, actually, before, "Well, first things first. I'm assuming he has enough problems that he wouldn't keep a *constant* eye on me, unless you seem to think that's possible. If not, would you performing an-- examination, whatever that entails, be detected?"

Brings-the-Pack drops casually, "I'm hoping to get a small bit of uranium soon, so I can better learn how to shield the garou from radiation when they, I assume, eventually go to Hanford's nuclear site to address this issue." He examines the burned scrap of paper through the plastic bag while addressing Sandra. "I rather doubt the Black Mage bothers watching you all the time. No offense, but I don't think he finds you, me, or anyone at the sept all that interesting. I suspect thinking about The Nothing probably triggers an alert. That would save a vast amount of time. If he has that capability. And he probably does." He adds, "Three people talking about The Nothing in one location. I wouldn't be surprised...." He lets that thought trail off as he focuses on the paper more intently, suddenly more focused on it.

Emma frowns at something the mage says, "Being shielded is definitely something worthwhile, for us dealing with this Nothing business. Actually solving the contamination issue of Hanford?" She shakes her head. "Don't see there being a happy ending on that one."

"It wouldn't be prudent, anyway," Sandra says to Emma, again not seeming offended by what's said regarding the Black Mage's interest. "The contamination issue at Hanford has been part of an on-going struggle within the US for decades. If by some miracle - which is more or less what it'd take - it suddenly cleared up, that would be more than enough to welcome some-- uncomfortable questions. Unfortunate though that may be." Her attention shifts to Brings-the-Pack, then-- and she says, "In any event that answers at least one of my questions. Whether or not he'd anticipate what I had in mind." A pause. "It just occurs to me that if dreams are a means of communication-- why not communicate through them, somehow? Allow him to speak in his language, as he sees fit, but-- try and have a more direct dialogue." There's another question hanging there, somewhere, but for whatever reason, she's not saying it yet.

Brings-the-Pack exclaims, "Oh, heavens no. The radioactive problems with Hanford are too big to resolve without provoking significant inquiry, but it is my understanding that The Nothing has invaded some of those contaminated areas. It craves radiation. /Loves/ the stuff. It makes it grow faster. But I'm assuming, eventually, if the Nothing is to be put back to sleep, the Garou may need to make an excursion to Hanford, as the Black Mage has reached out to the sept. He doesn't think terribly highly of the garou, so I'm hoping to learn more about radiation shielding so you all have a chance of coming back alive." He chuckles mildly at Sandra's idea of letting the Black Mage speak directly. "I tried something like that earlier. LSD and a sensory deprivation experiment with a ritual connection. 'Direct' is not a word I would use to describe how he speaks. It's like being a first grader with a college professor telling you how to do a differential equation. But pieces. Pieces are slowly coming together." He pulls his head back from the paper. "This is interesting. This isn't paper. It is, but it.... isn't. It's more like a memory of what paper was, and then made real."

There's an eye clenching groan from the Get at that point, "God I am so sick of what is real and yet not real. It's just... stupid!" Jaw sets tightly, "I just want to..." she pauses in what could have become a rather loud bit of venting. "Just tell me what part needs doing, and I will do it."

Sandra's expression gives some indication that, perhaps, she doesn't feel as though she's communicating this correctly, though her own frustration isn't-- quite up to speed with Emma's own. Either way, it's not hard to tell that she sympathizes. "The suggestions been made to check out this village that either stands near, or in place of the Last Days caern," she says to Emma. "All signs are pointing to 'figure out what's happening with the Magpies.' And, personally, I'd like to at least try. If you're up for it, and haven't done so already. That said--"
She looks over to Brings-the-Pack again. "If you mean to say that it's been done, and pointless to try and listen on his terms, than I'll accept that as an answer, but I don't know that I'm expressing myself correctly. The fact of the matter is that I'm having these dreams, and may have another, even if I'm not entirely sure when. Entering into it with a degree of lucidity--" She pauses. Shakes her head slightly. "Well. I suppose what you've described is roughly similar." Beat. "Did it work, though? In terms of establishing communication?"
"....Whatever rare, indecipherable form it happened to take?" is added, quite dryly.

Brings-the-Pack glances in wry amusement at Emma's frustrated display. "Such an ahroun." It's clearly a statement meant in jest. To Sandra, he replies, "It worked. But later we learned that a cell phone works just as well. But he slumbers a lot. Although I have a feeling that his definition of 'slumber' does not parallel with what we refer to as slumber." He gestures towards the scrap of paper with his muzzle. "I think I can definitely confirm that I've seen both the paper and the handwritting before. I was able to put out feelers among some mages I know, letting them know I was interested in finding some information or relics from a mage who'd been involved in early atomic testing. I've got what is likely a lab notebook, but it's mostly illegible and.... full of crazy. Some things that shouldn't be shared. Ever. But... I'll see about dusting it off and looking through it again to tease out anything that's legible, relevant, and shareable."

The first reply from Emma is a brushed off, not entirely offended, "Yeah yeah. Full moon fluster. I just feel like I should be able to do more than ... this." She waves a hand dismissively in gesture of nothing. At the suggestion of looking through that book again, she casts a look back at the cougar. "If it's dangerous even for another mage to peruse, and you've already gone through it once, maybe wait and see if we can't find another angle or two." Hands go back into the front hoodie pouch. "We still have those messed up dancer like weird beasties that start showing up when we get near Hanford, or Last Days. I dunno what's changed since my being away on those fronts."
Ghost has partially disconnected.

Sandra's curiosity is piqued, to say the least. Might be a function of her previous idea either being shut down, or her unwillingness to pursue it, but, one way or another... "Dancer-like--?" she begins, though she doesn't repeat the whole line. "I don't think I saw reference to them in your notes."

"Echoes, I think the Black Mage calls them." The cougar-mage looks to and reads from the burned note. "Reality is not a still pond, but a lake with a stiff breeze. Sometimes, stones must be dropped in. What you see are echoes of victims, imperfect remnants of unmaking. They are less than corpses and ghosts, and more implacable. They are distorted shadows burned into a wall. Broken marionettes dancing to half remembered music." He looks up, from one garou to the other. "The creatures, I think, are echoes. I think they might be echoes--golems--the Black Mage has either created or learned to control. Messengers to do his bidding. The creature that came last night?" He says this to Emma. "It seemingly came from your distorted shadow. However, I've seen that specific one before and you were not there, Emma. It was not you or your shadow that turned into the beast, but perhaps they use shadows somehow for teleportation."

Emma looks to Sandra, "Val. You know her? She did some recon over the area and ran into some weird stuff. She'd know more." She laughs a bit, shaking her head, "You're asking a damn Modi, to remember brain stuff from two years ago, after she's just spent eighteen months in a warzone, that still seemed like bliss compared to this craziness with nothings and un-nothings." The Get lets out a sigh, then turns back to the cougar. "So, hitched an easy ride, as opposed to picked a specific taxi. Did it return since that meeting? God, it's weird- but I almost feel like it /wanted/ to find a way to talk to us."

Though the question of 'what happened' is made readily apparent in Sandra's gaze, the lack of an immediate answer gets a pointed look shot in Emma's direction first, though the Shadow Lord wisely turns it elsewhere. "Ghost pointed out that these creatures have no eyes," she says, mildly irritated, but getting over it. "All of them, apparently. I take it whatever it was you came across was in roughly the same shape." She frowns. Then, "You know," is said flatly, "if I'm being less charitable--" at which point she pauses. Opts for a "Never mind," instead. "It's not the least bit constructive."

"I had the same suspicion. It was not aggressive. Ugly as sin, yes. Aggressive, not really. Like it wanted to speak, but...." Brings-the-Pack quotes again from the burnt manuscript. "It has no mind, but it has a will. It has no thoughts, but it has memories. There on the edges drift what remains just before the event horizon, footprints where no foot exists, shadows with nothing to cast them. Echoes that hunt." He glaces momentarily to Sandra, then mostly Emma. "Remember the young Spiral the garou captured from the Queen's forces? The one that had been contaminated by The Nothing? He was being consumed by the black Ooze. He wasn't being turned into one of these echoes." Finished, he glances back to Sandra, as if not understanding what's gotten into her.

Emma finds her attention torn between the two, but for the moment the Shadow Lord wins out. "Well, whatever it is or isn't, you might as well spit it out now that you've half mentioned it." Her gaze rests on the other garou, expectantly perhaps, but without much heat behind it.

"I said--" Sandra begins, though she stops herself. Letting out a short breath, she says, "I'd just like to state for the record that you *were* warned," her tone dry. It normalizes a touch as she continues, "But now that we've got that disclaimer out of the way, *if* I'm being less charitable, and *if* I'm letting what I'm almost positive is sleep deprivation speak for me, I'd say these so-called messages - no matter how they're delivered, or in what form they're delivered - took the form they did because our 'benefactor' believes he's speaking to packs of drooling idiots, and tailors those messages accordingly. At which point, they become even more mangled, and even *more* indecipherable than he might have intended." A pause. "Now-- with that pointless and what I'm sure I'll be told is a thoroughly incorrect statement out of the way..."
She looks to the cougar-mage. "Does that mean anything to you? That his golems are eyeless. That even those things that *aren't* strictly his creatures, like the woman I saw in the first dream that came to me, appear to have had them gouged out?"

Brings-the-Pack looks somewhat lost as to what Sandra is talking about that seems more addressed to Emma than to him. Asked a direct question that he might be able to answer, he rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "I suspect the Black Mage may not be able to leave Last Days. Sort of... " He again quotes the burned document."There on the edges drift what remains just before the event horizon, footprints where no foot exists, shadows with nothing to cast them." He explains, "If the Black Mage is on the cusp of the Event Horizon with The Nothing, at the point where he might be consumed, then he might also be incapable of escape. But maybe he's able to affect--catch--some things before they reach the event horizon and repurpose them. Eyes...." He thinks a moment before continuing. "For some mages, the eyes might make an excellent ritual component for seeing what a golem sees." He adds, "I don't think the Black Mage is dumbing messages down for the garou. I think he's done that already with the visions and the conversations we've had in the past. I think the echoes are, literally, mindless. Only able to repeat." He looks to Emma. "That's probably why that one was repeating your words with your voice." His gaze goes back to Sandra. "Parroting is not attempting to communicate."

Emma is caught up in a distraction of her own, and perhaps had missed most of that last exchange. "Aren't corvids rumored to peck out eyes? Ok, well, beyond rumored, I know for a fact that Corax have an ability to gleam info from the eyes of the deceased. The eyes gouged out, or just missing? Anyway, aren't magpies part of the corvid family? Helluva stretch, but what the hell, right?" A hand comes up to scratch at the back of her neck. "And nothing's pointless Sandra. As is evidenced by my random, over-tired thought about magpies pecking out eyes. I'm gonna let the two of you finish up this round of brainstorming and find a nice quiet spot to catch some sleep." She pauses, "Unless either of you need anything else?"

"Keeping in mind that I've never witnessed these creatures personally," Sandra replies to Brings-the-Pack first, "I can only work with what I know. Now, I know." She looks to Emma then, some of the bristling beginning to die down as she listens. She shakes her head a little at the talk of the thought being random, and says, "I don't know that any theory is *completely* off the table where that's concerned, at this point. Be it a ritual component, or otherwise, it's something. Though it's worth noting that the two echoes I saw flanking the woman in the dream moved to attack before it ended. Abruptly. With a headache I'll have to find a way to thank him for later."
She pauses again, deliberately, apparently seeming to work on centering herself a touch. Then, "I would like to investigate this village, at some point," she says. "We're being shouted at to pay attention to the magpies, so-- we may as well look, if there was a lead pointing in that direction before. Aside from that-- get some rest. I think we both could use it."

Brings-the-Pack offers to Emma, "Feel free to crash over at one of the overhangs by the cliff if you want. I'll be working tonight, but it should be quiet. And I would not mind an extra set of claws around if company shows up again." To Sandra he says, "Best way to get answers would be for me to get a look at one of them. Although a lot of the things associated with The Nothing are.... They're slippery. Slippery in a way that is Lovecraftianly indefineable."

Emma gives an easy nod to the cougar-mage, biting back a smile that might be tinged just a scoche to fond. "I'll do that Brings-the-Pack. It's a long trek back, even on four paws, when you've been running hard for a few days." To Sandra she turns once again, "I'll go with you when you're ready to go. I feel you've got a better knack for putting pieces into the proper place on this- though I want all the research done before we go traipsing over there. If it comes to fighting anything, well, that's my domain." A bit of a grin there and then she steps back a pace. "Shout if you need anything. That goes for the both of you." A moment later she's returned to the grey furred lupus form and starts loping off to this mentioned overhang.

Sandra offers a nod to Emma as the Fenrir departs, not seeming to have any arguments where it comes to the overall timeline that's been presented. Her attention, however, quickly shifts back to Brings-the-Pack to say, "I'm sorry-- get a look at which?"

Brings-the-Pack clarifies. "One of the echoes."

"Ah." A pause. "Well, unfortunately, barring something unforseen, I only have the ones that appeared in my head to offer, and I somehow doubt those are worth a thorough examination."

"Probably not," the cougar-mage replies, watching as Emma departs to find a place to take a quick wolf-nap. Then back to Sandra. "Probably not. It is interesting that the visions seem to be happening again, at least with the garou. I haven't had any in well over a year and a half.

"Well," Sandra says, "according to some of the members of the sept, Thane didn't consider it much of a priority. If the Black Mage got discouraged and attempted to look elsewhere, that could account for the radio silence."

Brings-the-Pack says "Or, if the Black Mage notices when people are thinking and talking about it, and everyone was thinking and talking more and more about the Queen, and now that that's out of the way...." He then promptly admits, "But these are just speculations."

"Same difference, isn't it?" Sandra replies. "Where the leader points, the sept moves. Or doesn't, in some cases." She raises up off the boulder, then. "In any event, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed a sharp decline in reasoning over the past hour, so I should probably take that as a sign to get some sleep. Or try to, anyway."

Brings-the-Pack hmms in amusement. "Rage ebbs and flows with the lunar cycle, and coherency decreases with the moon's presence. Except for owls. And bats. I've got some experimentation I need to get to while the night is still young. But perhaps, sometime tomorrow, I might drop by Edgewood. And once again creep everyone out by accident. Or just do cougar and figure wolf rules don't apply."

Sandra mn's faintly. Less amused, but the irritation hasn't flared back up just yet. Even if, "Yes," is the deadpan response, "'everyone.'" She begins to move off, then, "I'll see you tomorrow, if you end up stopping by," offered in a tone that's less terse than it is plainly fatigued, the Shadow Lord dropping down to that oversized wolf form to start the journey back out of the cougar-mage's territory, though she pauses a few paces out. Her head turns. There may still be things to discuss. With that, she begins to move at a trot, which itself becomes a steady lope through the mist.

[Sandra] :: LOG :: But These Are Just Speculations

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