Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (84% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 69 degrees Fahrenheit (20 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.00 and steady, and the relative humidity is 28 percent. The dewpoint is 35 degrees Fahrenheit (1 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 19:43 Pacific Time on Thu Oct 4 2001.
Walker Safe House(#2832RAJL)
This small tenement building is a work that any interior decorator would be proud of. The building is somehow filled with light and space, despite the fact that the room is far from large. Mirrored surfaces and lush green potted plants are much in evidence - jarring only slightly with the video cameras that perch unobtrusively in various locations. A small sign on the wall lists the number of apartments upstairs as eight, though there are no names next to the apartment numbers. A very thick door leads downstairs, with no visible method of being opened - except a keypad next to it. A monitor is perched above the entrance, showing images from the hidden camera that watches the outside of the building.
The lobby branches off into what appears to be a small recreation room; for use only by residents and their guests. Much like the rest of the building, mirrors are prominent. There is a pool table set up in one half of the room, along with a small fridge for storing drinks and a cabinet for snackables. The remainder is dominated by a large home theater system, with an incredibly expensive-looking couch in front of it. The couch nearly screams out, 'Don't spill anything'. For those who might, there are also two matching side-chairs, and a bean-bag on the floor - far too close to the television to be good for anyone's eyes.
The TV is on in the rec room, playing the news as Dizzy lounges on the couch, a half-eaten pizza lays on the floor in front of her.
Salem pauses at the street, comparing the contents of a business card to the address before him. Satisfied, he approaches the entrance of the building, tucking the card away inside his wallet as he does so. He rings the buzzer.
Dizzy starts at the sound of someone at the door and with a quick glance around, realizes that she's got answering-duty currently. Off the couch and into the lobby she checks the monitor and, not recognizing who it is, the cub asks through the door, "Yes? How may I help you?"
[Salem]
Tall and dark, he stands a few inches over six feet, a striking and rather dangerous-looking man in his late twenties. A mane of black hair, well past shoulder-length, frames a hawkish face, the left side of which is twisted by scars; apart from this disfigurement, he's quite handsome -- albeit in a devilish, saturnine kind of way. His face is one designed for brooding and cynicism, and the neatly-trimmed, short black beard makes him look all the more satanic. The dark sunglasses don't help, either. In short, he has the look of the very devil about him, or of a Christ figure gone bad.
The tails of his duster nearly sweep the ground when he walks. The black leather looks battered and shows signs of long use; it's seen better days. His clothes underneath tend toward dark hues as well -- black jeans, a dark green t-shirt, and a pair of combat boots that have been well worn in.
Salem takes a step back from the door, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long coat, his expression bland and his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. "I'm here visiting family," he answers. His tone of voice is civil, even pleasant. "Rina gave me the address. She said I should ask for someone named 'Johnny'."
Dizzy takes a second for this to register, she shakes her head and opens the door. "John's out right now, but if you're family, come on in." She smiles at the new arrival, holding out her hand, "My name's Dizzy."
"Salem." The visitor's hand is slightly calloused, and he has an aura of tightly-controlled bad temper -- but his return smile is actually rather friendly, and over that core of frothing rage is a carefully cultivated layer of calm civility. "Pleased to meet you."
Dizzy inspects the visitor with a critical eye. "You mentioned you were family..." she says, "Now, is that like kin, or /family/?"
Salem's smile takes on a wry twist. "The latter. May I come in?"
Dizzy motions for him to do so with a grin, "Of course," she says, stepping aside. "Wow, there must have been like, some call put out. I'm a cub, by the way. Ragabash cub. Known as both Spins-in-Circles and Protects-Others-From-Themselves."
Salem glances at Dizzy again, one brow rising in a look of mild surprise. "Cub? I wouldn't have guessed." Once inside, he removes the sunglasses and stows them away inside his coat. One brown eye studies Dizzy carefully; the other -- on the same side as the scars on his face -- is pure white. "Cliath Philodox."
"Yeah, yeah," the cub says, "I changed late... well, real late, I guess, judging by the fact that all other cubs I've met are, like, twelve to fifteen." She starts to sound a little angry, but shakes her head. "Another Philodox, huh? Okay. I'll call John and tell him you're here. He's acting elder for the tribe right now."
"It's no shame," Salem remarks, diplomatically. "Better that you've developed your own mind before being thrust into... mm. Everything." He gives the area a glance around. "Mind if I sit?"
Dizzy gestures to the rec room as she pulls out her cell phone. "Sure, you can have the pizza too. It's still warm, so..." She dials the number for John's cell and places hers up to her ear.
Salem nods and heads into the rec room, shedding the leather duster and folding it over the back of the couch as he takes a seat. He ignores the pizza after a brief glance at it, and sits forward on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands steepled together.
"Hey, it's Dizzy. I've got another new philo here at the safehouse. His name's Salem," the cub says into the phone. She pauses a second before answering the question on the other end. "He says Rina sent him here."
Salem listens to Dizzy's portion of the conversation with only half an ear; the rest of his attention focusses on the televised newscast.
"Okay, I'll see you when you get home, then." She says, concluding the phone conversation and hanging up. "He'll be home in about an hour," she informs the philodox. "Are you going to need a place to stay? We have a guest-apartment where you can stay."
Salem turns away from the television and looks up, giving Dizzy a crooked half-smile. "Actually, yes. For the time being, at any rate."
Dizzy nods, "Okay, then." And with that she heads down into the basement for the key. She's down there only for a couple of seconds before she comes back up. "Okay, here's the key."
Salem accepts the proffered key with a nod, tucking it into a jeans pocket. "Good." Refolding his hands together, the Philodox asks, "How long have you been in the family, Dizzy? Knowingly, I mean."
Dizzy brushes away her bangs with a hand, "Hmm.. This'll be month number four. I first change back in the begining of July."
"Not too traumatic, I hope?" Salem's brows arch slightly; he's obviously curious, in a reserved kind of way.
Dizzy shrugs, "Not really. I don't think anything has really been /traumatic./ Though, at the time that some things happened, I was pretty scared."
Salem brushes a hand over his bearded chin and nods. "Fear is normal. Even healthy... on occasion." A hint of a frown touches the area around his mouth. "Are you the only cub?"
Dizzy shakes her head as she stoops down to pick up a piece of pizza. "No. Walkerside there's Sophia, who's the only one who's been here longer than me, and Corey, who's pretty cool, he's a nice guy. There's Hops, beer-boy, Jonathan, who's a punk."
Salem scratches at his chin thoughtfully, his good eye focussed on Dizzy with an interest that could easily slide over the border and into uncomfortable intensity, if he let it. "Four cubs. Good. And how many for the rest of the family?"
"Hmm.. Daisy's the elder, she's a wolf born. John is acting elder right now, he's pretty much the go-to guy for anything. If it's tech-related, though, then Roger's the man. He's a metis. Cindy's around every now and again, Hops was staying over at her place for a while. Francisco, like you, is a newly arrived philodox. Lucca is off doing a renunciation thing, she wants to be a new moon." Dizzy pauses for a second. "Kinside there's Lianne, who owns this place, Rina, who I guess you've met, and Jeremy, who's staying with Roger currently. He and I are dating."
Salem's expression changes abruptly after the first name Dizzy lists; he pays attention and takes mental note of the others, but only barely; he sits up sharply. "Daisy? _Daisy_ is elder?" Seems he knows the name.
"Uh.. yeah," the cub confirms, slightly confused. "You know her?"
The door to the basement opens up and the sound of steps can be heard, climbing. Soon, the pale computer nerd can be seen, heading out, hair tousled and clothes wrinkled. His face is a mess, in need of a shaving.
Salem looks wry. "I helped train her. I escorted her and another cub on their Rite of Passage." He adds a muttered phrase in something that sounds Slavic and turns his attention toward the basement door.
"Wow," Dizzy says, picking up the box containing the half eaten pizza. "You must have been gone quite some time," she notes, offering the pizza to Jeremy. "Want a slice?" she asks the kin boy. "You look like shit, you know."
".. I don't look like Roger at least." Jeremy murmurs as he dismisses the pizza, wrapping his arms around her instead. He gives her a hard hug and sighs, biting on his lip. His body trembles, voice wavering among each syllable.
"Two years, almost," Salem mutters, continuing to regard Jeremy curiously.
Dizzy drops the box of pizza at the hug. She rubs Jeremy on the back soothingly. "You gonna be okay?" she asks, concerned.
"I.. I d-du'know.." Jeremy murmurs as he sucks in a heavy breath, fingers tracing along her back slowly as the two embrace. "He.. He.. his lungs.. are outside o' him.. an he hurts.. and.. I'm scared he may die."
Salem's brows arch at Jeremy's words, then lower into a frown as he glances toward the basement door.
Dizzy hugs the kin boy tight. "He'll be okay. We'll get someone who can do magic, like the girl who healed Alicia."
Salem asks quietly, "What happened?"
"Should get Alicia." Jeremy murmurs quietly as he holds her back tightly. Then, slowly drawing back, the young kinfolk glances over to Salem and clears his throat. He doesn't recognize him, but figures its safe anyways. ".. Roger.. um... Galliard to my tribe, the Glass Walkers was hurt at the revel last night. From what I've.. read in his stuff, I guess.. um.... a bane hurt him. Ripped out his lungs and stuck them to his back instead."
Those not paying attention might miss the hushed tread of Nails as he comes down the steps. He seems displeased, and really, who can blame him? There's a kind of costume on the lupine form, an old-style sailor suit little old misguided ladies dress their lapdogs in.
Salem doesn't quite wince at the description, but it's a close thing. He turns it into a grimace. "Nasty," he remarks, in quite obvious understatement.
"Want me to call her?" Dizzy asks the kin boy, fishing out her cellphone again.
Jeremy sniffs a bit, shrugging his shoulders. "I dunno, if you want. It wouldn't be dishonorable, right?" He asks, swallowing and glancing to the older Garou. The wolf in the sailor suit doesn't even rise a smile from him, so caught up in worry over his room mate, best friend and distant removed cousin of sorts.
Dizzy blinks, "Does the litany apply to this? I though it was for when Garou got, you know, old and sick and stuff."
Salem shakes his head at Jeremy's question. "Gaia gives us gifts for a reason. Having one's lungs outside one's body is a far cry from getting a papercut." He notices Nails then, and does a visible double-take.
Nails stops with his haunches still on the bottommost step, staring at the unfamiliar person. What have we here? He considers moving to a less visible position when he's spotted. Too late. With an embarrassed air, he comes fully into the room and checks about. What's going on? Who has insides on outside?
Jeremy bites his lip for a moment and glances to Dizzy, then slowly dips his head. ".. Go ahead.. if you want." He says softly before glancing over to the sailor suited dog. One brow rises upwards, but he doesn't say anything in retort. Not tonight.
Salem gives Nails a dubious, frowning look, then turns to Jeremy. "Salem, by the way." A glance toward the costumed Nails includes him as a target of the introduction. "Philodox of the Glass Walkers, Cliath rank."
"Roger got hurt bad at the revel," Dizzy explains to her cubmate. "He's down in the basement." She looks up at Salem, "This is Corey." And leaves it open for Nails to introduce himself.
"Ah'm Jeremy Winters.. kinfolk to the Glass Walkers..." Says the young man as he slinks his arms back around Dizzy, finding a bit of comfort.
Nails is glad he missed the revel, in that case. With a defeated expression, he adds an introduction. Hits-the-Nail-on-the-Head, no-moon cub of the Walkers. And omega cub, apparently.
Dizzy keeps Jeremy in her embrace. "You're not Omega, Nails," she notes to the dressed up doggie. "Hops has that position."
"Pleased to meet you, Jeremy," says Salem, and by all evidence, he means it. Then his eyes narrow thoughtfully at Nails. "Remind me to ask, later, why you're wearing a sailor suit."
Slowly nodding his head, the kin' steps back away from Dizzy as his fingers trail along her hands, giving a final squeeze. "I'm going to wash up, take a shower.. um.. I'll be back in a few minutes. Excuse me." With that, he starts to trudge for the stairs.
Don't ask. Please, just don't ask. Nails did stupid things with other cubs, and now pays. Turning to face Dizzy, he considers her a moment before shaking his head. Prove it. Have not seen Hops get what he deserves, and feel it.
The older cub leans forward to give Jeremy a kiss on the cheek before he leaves. "Okay. Take your time and relax." She lets him go and turns to face the younger cub. "He's been getting himself into a lot of trouble recently."
Salem regards Nails with a thoughtful expression, his good eye narrowed, lips thinned with something that almost approaches sympathy, but is a little too reserved to get there.
Nails snorts derisively. Hops gets into trouble lots, but does he learn? No. Hops disobeys elders lots, but does he feel the punishment? No.
An electronic 'ring' emits from the long coat folded across the back of the couch. Salem frowns, then reaches into a pocket of the garment to retrieve a cellphone. "Excuse me for a moment, will you?"
Dizzy shrugs, "I dunno what they plan to do with him. Last time I tried to guess their thoughts the two of us ended up bleeding all over the woods."
Nails cocks his head to the side. /One/ of us did. Shaking himself quickly as if to throw off that subject if it was water, Nails irritatedly begins to pace. We need to come up with something to put him in his place, on our own. Let the nomoons do the nomoon things.
"Okay," Dizzy says, nodding in agreement as she picks the pizza box off of the floor and grabs another piece. "What do you think we should do to him?"
Nails drops to the floor, disgruntled. That's the problem, Nails doesn't know yet. Hops needs to be put into a situation he can't leave unless he gets help, whether by listening to the elders or relying on us cubs. Problem one, Hops fails to recognize danger when it's explained to him, or when he sees it. Problem two, Nails can't think of a scenario Hops can't escape that would require the help of other cubs, if we do not involve the elders.
Dizzy flops on the couch, muching on the pizza. "Well, let's see... we could get him arrested, or inform his parents of where he is. That'd mean he'd need the elder's help. Expecially with the jail thing."
Nails makes a low grumbling sound. Informing parents is out. Can't lead them back to the tribe, we already had to fend them off once. Caging him could be worthwhile. But would the blue two-legs not inform his parents?
"Well, they'd ask him his number, and he'd have to make the decision what number to give them. Knowing him, though, he'd probably try to get out of it by giving them a false number. He's not too bright at coming up with good plans on the spot."
Salem returns, deactivated cellphone in hand, his face a mask of neutral calm even though his body language betrays an underlying tension. He lifts a brow at Nails. "Language problems?"
You say "It depends, we could take it from him before hand, from his wallet while he's sleeping or something. Sometimes you can just tell the cops you don't have your I.D. on you and how're they going to check?" She thinks about this for a second before adding. "Actually, they might, depending on how bad it is. That, and he's a guy, more likely to be checked."
Nails , unable to form the analogy in his head into words, merely nods at Salem. I still don't quite understand how to describe all Weaver-things in this shape. To Dizzy he adds, we grab his wallet or stage a mugging somewhere, then find a way to put him in a twoleg cage? Maybe combine the two?
Dizzy looks aside at Salem warily. "You sure you want to talk about this right now, Nails?"
"She's quite right," says Salem, dryly. "A plot should never have witnesses." Returning the cellphone to his coat, the Philodox settles himself down onto the couch again.
Nails gives Salem an ear-wiggling grin. Meet Hops yet? Two days and you'll want to not only witness, but be in on any plans to put him in pain. Nails drops the subject abruptly with a gaping yawn. So, any other news?
The kin heads back down stairs after a much needed, long shower. He's wearing a pair of Dizzy's sweats, the clothing looking a bit baggy over his thin and frail form. Clearing his throat, he heads back to the group, rubbing the back of his neck, wet hair plastered back.
"Moot was okay," Dizzy says, finishing her pizza slice. "Lots of interesting stuff goes on there." She looks up at the kin's re-entrance, "Feeling better?"
Salem gives Nails a brief flash of wolfish grin, then glances backwards toward the arriving Kinfolk.
"Yah, I feel better." Jeremy softly says as he leans over to place a soft kiss to Diz's cheek. "Just.. hard to get the image out of my head ya'know. I've seen a lot in the past twelve years as a kin.. But that.. ranks up there in the weird and gross department."
Dizzy gets up from the couch, "Wanna go out. Dancing or something? Take your mind off of all of this?"
Nails will try to make the next Moot, unless someone decides he needs punishment again. For now, Nails gets back up and checks around the room, looking for someplace hidden to nap.
Salem, looking away from Dizzy and the kin, glances over at Nails. "Corey, is it? Do you mind if I impart a word of advice?"
Nails glances back at Salem, and chuffs. As if I could stop you.
Jeremy shrugs his shoulders a bit as he squeezes the girl in his arms. "I dunno, you know I can't dance and my legs are sore from kick boxing anyways."
"How 'bout just going out for a drink, then?" Dizzy suggests.
Salem's smile has a sardonic edge. "And it'd be rather useless for me to give you advice that you didn't want to have," he tells the cub in utterly reasonable tones.
Jeremy nods his head and smiles. "That'd be fine, I can go for a milkshake or something." He glances over to the two and clears his throat. "Good night Salem, it was nice to have met you." Heading over to a backpack near the front door, he opens it up and takes out a small plastic card. Handing it to the cliath, he murmurs. "You can get ahold of me here.. Cell, pager, email, voice mail, carrier pigeon.. the works. I'm always free to drop whatever and help out."
Nails makes a bowing motion in Salem's direction. Advise me, half-moon-rhya. My ears are open, my mouth is shut.
Dizzy grabs her hat and glasses and heads for the door. "Ready?" she asks Jeremy.
Salem turns away from Nails long enough to stand and accept the card from Jeremy, his manner as unfailingly polite as earlier. "I'll keep that in mind. It was a pleasure meeting you as well." The card vanishes into his wallet.
Jeremy nods and heads after Dizzy, looping his arm with hers. "I'm ready. Lets go."
Dizzy heads out the door with Jeremy. Fishing her car keys out of her pocket.