This is getting out of hand, now there are eight of them!

The evening sun was shining on Lupercal, and the lord of Clan Mutata Figura made his way through his estate. It was a small ways off from the rest of his clan, but he liked it that way. It kept him relatively close by while still allowing him to disconnect from everything else; this had become a blessing with how busy he tended to be. As he came upon a fairly large clearing surrounded by a short wooden fence with a few weapon racks at the end of the path leading to it, Montare was reminded of the fact that even here he couldn't escape from all of his responsibilities. The grass of the clearing was noticeably more worn out than the land around it, for reasons that would soon become apparent. Montare waited around at the entrance to the clearing. Hopefully his children didn't think that the school year starting meant they could start slacking. Yet, he'd be pleasantly surprised if they all showed up, considering some were certainly less enthusiastic about their training than others.

Keir was one of the first to arrive after his father, his snow-colored hair tied back in a short ponytail. That, combined with his cheongsam-esque dress, could easily make him pass for one of his sisters. Not that that bothered him in the slightest, because, really, who cared? His kamas were at his hips, but as he walked up he removed them and put them on the rack. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was actually end up hurting one of his brothers or sisters. If he was going to be using a weapon or two today, he'd at least used ones that were blunted. He didn't plan on using any today though; he was good enough without them. Really good. At the very least, he was according to himself. Keir casually leaned on the rack as he waited, his eyes looking out at the rest of Lupercal, and further back, some of Foxhaven.

Evander had been up early that morning, preparing for school, preparing for this, what Father called "training." He supposed that's what you would call it, but the word struck a medieval tone in his head as he strolled up to the clearing, fingering at the knife hidden on the back of his belt, tucked under the baggage of his jacket. Ever since he was strong enough to pick up a wooden stick, he'd been drilled in all the usual things you'd teach your eight year old, footwork and disarming flicks and proper stance. He could find his way to this spot with his eyes closed, and sometimes he did, half-asleep with one earbud in for a particularly early morning session, so it was nothing fresh to him. But stepping outside their little bubble, into the big part of town, and when it hits you that what you thought was normal wasn't normal at all, sometimes you couldn't help but feel like the freaks in a society of freaks. And what did that make him?

He held himself at the edge of the clearing, observing his brother and father from the foliage for a minute, maybe two minutes, before stepping into the light, a smile sliding onto his lips. "Good evening, Father. Keir, your dress..." This, too, was nothing new to him. It had always been easy to accept Keir for Keir. But this... "I think that's cultural appropriation." With a light grin, Evander cut his way across toward where his brother was waiting, at the weapons rack, where two deadly looking scythes hung near Keir. Evander tapped at his own weapon, the knife on his belt, but left it concealed there after a moment of hesitation. "Any bets on who'll be last?" he muttered with a nudge against Keir's shoulder.

"I'm gonna go ahead and guess probably Beecher," she said, throwing out the first of her siblings' names that popped into her head. She strolled up in a leather jacket with a thin, striped shirt underneath, jeans, and black combat boots. Her hair was tied up in a small ponytail, which her hair was just barely long enough for. But it was just training after all. She was surprised that she herself wasn't the last one to training, since she no longer lived in Lupercal; she made the decision to dorm at Beata. It was still worth it though, not having to sleep in the same space she had since she was little. It got her away from her family for a few hours, at least until she saw them in class or around the school in general. "What's on the agenda tonight, Father?" she asked semi-formally, remembering how to address the leader of her clan.

The beginning of the school year had hit Maeve harder than she would've liked to acknowledge. Typically the first to show up, she was much later than she would have preferred to be, arriving more in the middle of the group. Already in the back of her mind an excuse for being late was conjured. Having her daggers secured within her belt, it could easily be passed off by the Lupo that she had been practicing her throwing skills. Messy locks of white hair were allowed to fall down around her shoulders as she walked into the clearing, the grass swishing in response to her boots. Quickly, her fingers went to work to secure her hair back in a ponytail, loose strands falling to either side of her face.

Her characteristic posture and military-esque steps carried her to her siblings, pausing the moment she reached her spot beside Keir. "Father." The monotone voice rang in greeting, the slightest hint of a smile peeking out as she gave a nod. Her stance yet again mimicked that of the military - straight, with her hands folded behind her back. It was more than an odd quirk of hers, it was something she had adopted. Wanting to get the best chances of securing a high rank in the Lupine Guard, she figured if she adopted as close to a military stance as she could along with the responsibility, it would strengthen her chances.

"Think fast!"

Menacing glints of knives sliced through the air, each aimed squarely for her siblings' arms (or maybe their heads). The offending octoplet bubbled with laughter as she hung from atop a tree branch, precariously balancing upside down, white locks spilling onto the floor like a heap of snow. Long white ears twitched and flickered about before she swung herself up and over the branch, leaping to the ground to stick her landing with relative ease. A normal greeting, of course... That worked out a little too well.

Each blade hit their marks, shearing through fabric, scraping across skin until only a thin slice of red remained. Bianca stuck out her tongue, tapping the side of her head with one fist (the other was slipping another knife back under her sleeve) - childishly, innocently, as though it were a silly little accident. "Oopsie! I was thinking you guys could catch it if I gave a heads-up." Her eyes were shining like diamonds in the sky, a thousand-watt grin spread across her small face as she held her head to look up right at each of her older siblings' gazes. Gold or blue, it didn't matter, they were all bound by blood and they were her precious older brothers and sisters.

Bianca spun on her heel, setting out to pick up her blades. But not before she politely saluted to the supreme leader of the clan. "Hello father." It was rare for him to call her out to these training sessions. Every clan elder and their cow made the utmost assurance that such a sweet and delicate little wolf pup such as herself would need to be protected and kept safe. And by safe, they meant tossing her to the side and hoping she would be happy playing in the sandbox with dolls or chew toys. "Can I join in today?" At least they weren't here right at this very instant, so maybe, just maybe...

The member 'Echo' has done the following action : Dice Rolls

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'd20' : 16

Beecher showed up late. Per usual. The rough shudder of gravel under his longboard (how he managed that no one knew), and a coffee in his hand. Dark sunglasses were propped up on his head in stark contrast to his white hair. He looked rather unimpressed with lidded eyes as he stared up at his sister with similar glittering eyes, though his own were of annoyance. "There is a reason why I don't stay home." Beecher kicked up the longboard and placed it to the far side of the fence. Slouching, Beecher kicked a rock toward his siblings, raising a brow at his brother's dress. "Their culture is not your damn prom dress." He strolled to his position in line, raising his brows, and the sunglasses sliding into position on the bridge of his nose.

And--a long slerping sound from his coffee for good measure.

Waking up to the realization of having to go to school, Sonnet sighed. Looking at the clock she realized that she probably woke up the latest. She hurried to get ready to meet up with her siblings. Once Sonnet was ready and started went outside to get ready to train, she saw a tragic mess. There were knives everywhere and her siblings that had been there early has knives near them. Some were bleeding and others were struggling to get free from a knife. "Bianca! Don't mess around like that! You could have seriously injured our brothers and sisters!" Sonnet yelled at Bianca also looking around to make sure her siblings were fine. Deciding to ignore Bianca for a good 10 minutes she went over to her other brothers and sisters. "Are you guys okay?" Sonnet looking at her siblings to find them a bit all over the place. Why does Bianca always do this? I know it's her nature, but must this always happen? She thought that while making her siblings were okay and didn't have any bad injuries. " My apologies father. I forgot to say good morning. I just got a little caught up with Bianca... Again." Sonner sighed. While turning to look at her father with a somewhat apologetic look.

Maybe being late was a good thing, this time. Theodore frowned and watched the flurry of daggers that was Bianca swoop for above. The sight of torn fabric made his hands instinctively move and check his own shoulders and sides for cuts. Of course not - his white shirt was impeccable, as always. His eyes glided over the entire group, regarding them with an underlining hint of exasperation. At least nobody was acting strange. Stranger than what he'd consider normal for each of them.

"Apologies for my tardiness." the Lupo excused himself, not making an effort to seem as if he was meaning it. All of this was barbaric beyond something he could comprehend, much more so when he accustomed himself to whatever children their age did. Definitely not sparring. Or whatever Keir was doing. He watched the eldest with a small smirk - if there was something who would be an interesting heir, it would be him.

Theodore moved purposefully for the weapons' rack, stopping with a hand brushing over the hilt of his lance. "How about getting this over with as quickly as possible?" he muttered under his breath, eyeing his father.

Even though they did all show up, Montare was starting to find it difficult to really find it pleasant that they were all here. Especially now that half of them had just had throwing knives sent their way. On the one hand, the seasoned warrior in him couldn't help but be impressed that Bianca had managed to pull off that little feat. But on the other hand... she did just throw actual, sharpened knives at half of her siblings. His gaze settled on Bianca; it was stern, but not quite hostile or aggressive, being more serious than it was enraged. "Yes, but I expect you not to throw any more sharpened knives at your brothers and sisters. Everything we train with is blunted for a reason." He turned to look at the other seven, deciding he wouldn't waste time on the fact that a few of them showed up late. "As long as the rest of you are not hurt too badly, you'll be practicing your hand-to-hand this evening. Leave your weapons and such at the rack and take up positions around the edge of the field. All of your weapons." He wouldn't be surprised if at least one of his children 'forgot' to leave some dagger or something else of the sort on the weapon rack.

Keir held the spot on his upper arm where the knife had grazed him, tearing the sleeve of his dress and leaving a thin red cut. Nothing too serious, even if it was a little bit painful. He shot a look towards Bianca, one that practically screamed "you won't get so lucky next time!" Whatever pain the wound caused him seemed to be forgotten when he and his dress were faced by a far more serious attack from Evander and Beecher. He crossed his arms, his weight shifting onto one leg. "You two are just jealous of it!" On that note, he marched off into the clearing and stood at the opposite end of it before turning around to face into the center.

The moment her sister's voice rang out, Maeve spun around.

Her hand had shout out to catch the knife that had been thrown her way, and she would have been successful if not for the fact that she had grabbed the blade and not the handle. The sharp metal sliced into her palm, the sting causing her to clench her jaw as she quickly spun the knife to prevent any more damage. Glancing at the blood now welling in her palm and frowning, Maeve pulled an old rag from one of the many hidden pockets of her outfit and pressed it into the scratch. "You got me this time." She admitted with an annoyed huff.

Glancing at her father as her head was still inclined towards her palm, she decided she would be still fine enough to participate in the combat. Walking over to the rack she emptied herself of all of the various knives and other weapons she carried on her at all times, neatly organizing them in what had become her corner of the rack. Taking one more moment to assure she had stopped the bleeding on her wound, Maeve went back to her position on the edge of the field.

Evander slid smoothly to the side as he caught the glint of sharpened steel out of the corner of his eye, but it still slid across his shoulder. "Fuckin' A!" he hissed under his breath, slapping his hand over the sticky tear in his nice flannel. Knife-throwing in a family across town would probably be considered dysfunctional. In this household, all that earned her was a harsh bark to knock it off. Just same old little sister things. The best way to describe it that he was startled, yeah, but not surprised. There was a difference. He let the grimace slide off his face with a long exhale, shedding the pain. "Bianca, you were my second favorite sister, but that just lost you twelve points. Danni's got your spot now." Sonnet took the top spot, twenty-six weeks running, that went without saying.

He made it sound teasing, but he was doing the math. Evander fingers brushed against the hidden hilt strapped across his belt as Father spoke, but made no move to throw it on the rack. "I'd never dream of hurting anyone in my family, Father. None of us would." A raised eyebrow. Bianca's direction. Leaving the dagger concealed on his belt, he lazily tossed a dinky gift shop pocket knife onto the ground at the foot of the rack, arrayed next to the lances, knives, and long, curved sickles.

Bianca shuffled her feet, gaze downcast when Sonnet reprimanded her. A nervous laughter bubbled up her throat, half a laugh and half of choked words that couldn't form themselves, so she settled on giving a slight nod, twirling a lock of her hair with her index finger. "I wasn't trying to hurt anyone..." It was one thing for mother or father to scold her, but for her sister to think she would actually mess up enough to hurt one of them. As if that would ever happen. All in good fun, right? At least father understood a bit more (maybe he was proud. Would it be too much to ask he praised her?), so she quickly moved to pick up her remaining knives, slipping them back into their concealed and endless pockets. She wouldn't lie though, she smiled just a little more with Maeve's comment.

... Only for it to drop with Evander's. Fingers balled up into little fists, her cheeks puffed into a pout, "Van, that puts me in last place, doesn't it?" After a moment of deliberation, the light in her eyes bounced back to maximum brightness. "Well, that's okay! Annie and Nettie are better for first and second!" Upon their father's orders, Bianca gulped, a glistening trickle of sweat trailing down to her cheeks; she swiftly wiped it away, dispensing some of her blades near the rack. A good thirteen or so knives were placed sloppily into the open slots, Bianca shifted slightly, making her way to the clearing behind Keir.

A blade shifted beneath her sleeve in its fastener. There was absolutely no way, not in a million years, that she would not keep at least four on her person.

Danni grabbed Bianca's arm and smiled. After dumping a bunch of knives on the table, her sister still shifted as if she still had some blades on her person. Years of training have taught all of them how to notice when people move with hidden weapons, and Bianca should know that. "All of them, Anca. You know the rules." she whispered sternly. As much as she didn't want to get sliced again, in the end, she was looking out for her slightly mental sister. She quickly let go of Bianca's arm and headed to where weapons were to be laid. After placing a few knives on the table, she headed back over to the clearing to prepare.

Beecher ignored the banter of his siblings, kicking the rock between his feet and arriving at the table. His only weapon was his knife that was generally at his side. Pushing up the sunglasses, Beecher joined his siblings at their father's side, coffee still in his hand. He watched the others put their weapons away, eyeing Bianca tiredly as she was forced to place the rest of her weapons away. God, he was glad he didn't have the insanity trait of the family.

Annnd another long sip of his coffee, looking anyone who stared directly in the eye with a deadpan. He didn't want to be there, Beecher would be damned if they went without noting that.

Starting to feel slightly sorry for scolding Bianca, Sonnet decided to apologize. She cared for her siblings in many ways including she doesn't want any of their feelings to get hurt. As Bianca finished cleaning her knives, Sonnet grasped her spinner tight in her hand. Knowing she should put it away, Sonnet tried to slowly put it back in her bag. Hoping that it would go unnoticed by any of her family members. She looked over and realized she should put her bag containing her spinner where everyone else's weapons were. Sonnet quickly walked over and placed down her bag. Rushing back to the clearing ready for training or whatever their father had on the agenda. Tracing her tattoo on the back of her hand Sonnet tried imaging what her siblings were feeling currently. As she put her hands back down to her side, she thought about her expectations of school and thinking about the reality. I sometimes don't enjoy school. Let's just hope this year goes smoother than the past years.