Currently the moon is in the waning Gibbous Moon phase (66% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.23 and steady, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 23:33 Pacific Time on Fri Sep 7 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.
A couple of brisk knocks sound at the door.
Dizzy is lounging around in the rec room, laying on the couch, feet propped up on the arm, flipping through the class catalogue for SCCU. She starts at the sound of someone at the door and gets up, tossing the catalogue onto the couch. Looking into the monitor and not recognizing the person on the other side, the cub asks, "Yes, how can I help you?"
[Francisco]
At first glance this is someone who you might consider crossing the street to avoid. He's almost frighteningly tall, with long limbs and broad shoulders and chest. While he's not bulky, he ain't skinny either. And he looks like an extra from _Sid and Nancy_. Waist-length hair, shaved on the sides of his skull, is dyed purple, red, and blue. Tribal tattooes swirl and spike along the back of his neck and reach up to paint the shaved sides of his head with their intricacies. He's got several visible piercings: small vertical barbells through his eyebrows, a beaded ring through his septum, and seven or eight bars and hoops per ear. At least he's dressed more plainly, in black cargo pants, a white tank top (which gives hints that the tattooes and piercings don't stop at his neck), and knee-high black leather boots that buckle up instead of lace. He wears a plaid, spiked bracelet on one wrist, and a collection of tied strings, beaded bracelets, and dog collar-style chains on the other.
A second glance, if you're inclined to take one, shows that his eyes are dark brown, bright and thoughtful in a face with not much else to recommend it. His expression, while seldom actually sober, tends to settle into a calm sort of brooding when at rest, suggesting that he's a man with more on his mind than his hair dye. Not attractive, but certainly interesting-looking.
Francisco replies cordially to the intercom, "Hi. I've heard I've some relatives living here." He looks fairly relaxed, leaning against the doorjam.
"Uh... that may be possible," Dizzy replies, a little uncertain of how to handle this, "What's your relative's name? I can see if he or she lives here."
Francisco tips his head up a little, and says with a slight smile, "The family name is Walker. Does it sound familiar?"
Dizzy debates wether or not that should be enough for a moment, before responding, "Yeah, I recognize that name. Do you mind if I ask your business here?"
The Ducati motorcycle is heard, then seen; streaking along the street, rider bent low, the vehicle slows only as it reaches the Walker house. The bike pulls up between two parked cars, and the rider--a woman in dark leathers, her pale face and black hair revealed as she pulls off her helmet--goes through the motions of locking up the bike and dismounting.
Francisco glances over at bike and rider, then addresses the intercom again, expression calm. "I'm here to meet my relatives. As long, of course, as they'd like to meet me." He grins.
Dizzy wanted something a little bit more tangable, but oh well, she opens the door. "Welcome to the Roach Motel," she greets, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She notices the woman getting off the motorcycle. "Hey," she calls out to Rina, but keeps an eye on the new arrival.
The motorcyclist hangs her helmet on a wrist, and paces toward the building, stripping off her gloves along the way. "What's up?" she calls out, as she reaches the steps and bounds up them. Shadow-dark eyes study Francisco, looking him over in a casual appraisal.
Francisco grins benevolently down at the girl. "Thank you. I appreciate it." He looks back at Rina, offering her a nod as she approaches.
Rina glances from the tall young man to Dizzy, questioning.
Dizzy motions for the punk guy to enter the building while answering Rina. "Not much. You know this guy?"
Rina shakes her head in answer, and then crosses her arms with a creak of leather. "Nope. Which kinda begs the question of why he's walkin' in..." She follows him, studying every move.
Francisco steps aside for Rina, since she's obviously headed for the door, and lets her in first. "I've family here," he says mildly.
Rina walks in like she owns the place, and waves a hand toward one of the chairs in the lobby area. "Sit," she says. "And start dropping names."
"He said Walkers without any prompting, so he knows that much," Dizzy informs the kin. She turns back to the stranger, "Do you know anyone specific you're looking for?"
Francisco sits, folding his long self into the chair--which puts him much closer to the two women, heightwise. "Not in specific, no," he says to Dizzy. To Rina, he quirks a pierced eyebrow and asks, "Which names are you interested in? Mine is Francisco Delgado. I've just driven up from LA." Apparently he's not sure if he should drop deednames, just yet.
Rina crosses her arms, and leans on the back of one of the other chairs, watching him. "Somebody must given you this address," she says helpfully. "Right?"
Francisco leans back himself, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Right. My father, Jorge Delgado, owner of Hunchback Records." He watches Rina with interest.
Dizzy shuts the door and walks back over to the furniture is, crossing her arms as well, scrutinizing this Francisco guy. "Who told you where to find this place?"
Rina purses her lips, glancing down for a moment as she searches her brain. "Jorge, Jorge..." Her attention snaps across to him. "Power Chord Jorge?"
Francisco grins wide. "The same."
Dizzy blinks and looks over to Rina, dropping her arms, "Who is Power Chord Jorge?"
Rina nods, grinning. "Cool." She glances over to Diz. "Galliard, lives down in LA. Plays a mean heavy metal lead guitar..." She steps over to Francisco, offering him a hand. "Rina Vencenzo. Kin. 'S'a pleasure."
Francisco clasps Rina's hand, his smile not fading. "I'm glad to meet you, Rina. My deedname is Skyscraper-Stands-His-Ground, half-moon cliath of the Glass Walkers." He looks over at Dizzy, waiting for her introduction, too.
Dizzy ohs, nodding as if she actually knows who this Jorge guy is and turns back to Francisco to introduce herself. "Dizzy Bradstreet. Spins-in-Circles and Protects-Others-from-Themselves. Cub born under the new moon." She gives Rina a look, "One of us should probably go tell John."
Rina nods, easily. "I will. If he's up there." She glances back to Delgado. "You need somewhere to stay, or you got a place?"
Francisco nods to Dizzy as well, "Pleased to meet you." He grimaces a little at Rina. "I don't have anything yet, no. Besides my car," he adds, the grin returning for a cameo appearance.
Rina chews on her lower lip. "Well, you can crash in the rec room f't'night, and if John's home I'll send him to say hi, a'ight?" She motions toward the archway leading to the lounge area. "Diz, if John doesn't come down, that means he oughta be comin' in sometime tonight, 'k?"
Francisco inclines his head towards Rina, rather an old-fashioned gesture. "Thank you."
"Sure, Rina," Dizzy answers. "I'm sure they'll be able to set you up with a room here," she tells Francisco, "Not all of us live here, though. Once I rite I'm going to get my own appartment." She pauses for a second, before covering her face with a hand, "God, I must sound _so_ childish."
Rina flashes a wry smile. "Take it easy, guys." She gives Dizzy a reassuring grin. "Night, Diz."
Dizzy calls after the kin, "G'night, Rina."
Rina walks up the stairs, to the second story of the building.
Francisco tips the vanishing Rina a little salute, and chuckles at Dizzy. "You're a cub; if you sound childish, well, you're supposed to be childish. Enjoy it while you can."
"I wish that I had changed while I was still, like, sixteen or seventeen, like the other cubs, so I wouldn't feel so weird about this," Dizzy admits. "I'm, like, twenty years old and the majority of my elders are younger than I am. At least John is older than I."
Francisco's eyebrows go up, just a bit. "You don't look that old. That's a compliment," he adds, flashing that grin. "Personally, I know the feeling. When I was a cub, there were quite a few cliaths younger than I was. It's the way things work out, often, that we change young. And die young," he adds reflectively.
Dizzy grins, "There's this one girl who stopped by here who's, like, Adren. Wow, she sure has a presence though. You can tell she deserves respect, but she looks so young." She glances back at the stairs, wondering if John is coming down or not. "Yeah, looks like you'll probably have to sleep in the rec room tonight."
Francisco shrugs philosophically. "It's better than my car. It was a very long drive." He stretches again. "I can always find a place of my own in a day or so, if I need to."
"If you don't mind me asking, what brings you to St. Claire?" Dizzy asks.
Francisco gazes at Dizzy for a moment, quietly, just watching her and thinking. He answers after the moment has passed. "There's a few reasons, but mostly I've come to join the Sept and the local tribe. I've heard the tribe up here needs a Philodox." He grins a little.
"Really?" Dizzy asks, a tad surprised, "I think the Capta.. uh, Cindy is a Philodox. Though, they were talking about getting some larger moons around here. All us cubs are theurges and ragabashes." She shrugs, "They really don't let us in on the plans, then wonder why we have nothing to do. Luckily, I've been keeping busy."
"Really?" Francisco asks back. "All darkmoons and crescents? How many cubs are here?"
"Four," Dizzy answers. "Only Corey and I are staying here right now, though. He's a good kid, funny most of the time, too. Hops is stayin at Cindy's, you'll want to watch out for him, he acts really weird, and is very irritating. Sophia is out in the woods, looking for teachers. She's nice, but really young, and pretty childish."
Francisco nods at each name, committing them to memory. "What's been keeping you busy, if I may ask?"
Dizzy brushes an errant bang out of her face, "Training. Learning to fight and be ragabashy. Planning to go back to school next semester. That sort of stuff."
Francisco leans back in his chair, laying his head against the back. "What's your major? Oh--I'm not keeping you up, am I? Don't feel you have to stay around talking to me; I'll happily talk your ear off."
Dizzy shakes her head, grinning, "Not at all. I was just checking out classes before you arrived. I'm majoring in Business Administration. Though, given my new lifestyle, I'm starting to wonder if that's so smart. On the other side, I'd _love_ to run a business some day."
"I help my father run the business," Francisco says, grinning back. "It's an immense amount of work, especially dealing with flaky musicians who don't show up for their scheduled studio time and then rant at you for not letting them usurp someone else who DID show up."
"That's cool," Dizzy says, finally floping down in a seat, "Must be cool, working in the music industry."
Upstairs, a door closes, and footsteps tromp down toward the first floor. This time, Rina is almost overshadowed by the presence at her side: the Ahroun fairly dwarfs the woman, looking for all the world like a Get. He's wearing only black jeans, tight black t-shirt and gloves. Scars cross his face and arms - particularly the right arm, which looks like it may well have been placed in a blender at some point in his life. By the time they reach the rec room, he's already looking Francisco up and down, measuringly.
Francisco says to Dizzy, "It -is- cool, and it is also a giant pain in the ass." He glances up at the sounds, sees the Ahroun and Rina appear, and stands up to meet them, returning John's look without aggression, but without submission either.
Dizzy looks up at John's arrival and stays sitting.
Rina leans against the edge of the doorway, casual; she offers Francisco a quick half-smile.
John looks down to Rina, and gives the new Walker a brief nod. Stepping forward, he actually extends a hand in greeting. "John. Smith. Ahroun. Otherwise known as Walks-Thin-Ice." He's still measuring, almost as if waiting for something.
Francisco steps up and grips John's hand firmly with a nod of greeting. "Francisco Delgado, Skyscraper-Stands-His-Ground. Half-moon Cliath. A pleasure to meet you, John." His expression is serious but calm, as he in turn takes the measure of the full-moon.
Dizzy yawns and streaches out her arms, listening to the conversation.
Rina watches them, without interrupting--perhaps observing the newcomer's conduct.
A little tension eases in the Ahroun, and John straightens a little as he drops his hand and puts them on his hips.. Looking to Dizzy and then Rina again, he grunts, "So. Francisco. What brings you to our... humble abode?"
"The desire to join the Sept and the tribe here," Francisco replies, with a slight smile. "I've heard a Philodox could be of use to you, and I don't come empty-handed. I have several rites to offer as Chiminage. Ah," he hesitates a brief second, "are you Elder here?"
Rina's eyes narrow a fraction as she watches John for his answer. A faint, barely-there smile plays about her lips.
Dizzy grins at the question, but says nothing.
John's mouth twists a little, and his shoulders shift uncomfortably. "Let's just say 'acting Elder' for the moment, hmm? Not a Sept member, yet. The Elder's Daisy. A lupe Theurge. She's been off the last few weeks. Will be for a while." The two women, he pointedly ignores. "General rule. You want shit, I'll straighten it out for you."
Rina glances down, still smiling, veiling the expression behind a fall of spiky black hair. She runs a hand through that unruly mop, and then rubs at the back of her neck; the dark eyes watch the two men closely.
Francisco takes all this in and nods to John. Any thoughts about this...unusual arrangement, he keeps to himself, but it's apparent none of it's escaped him. "Very well then." He doesn't quite glance at Rina or Dizzy.
Dizzy gets up from her chair and streaches again. "I'll take my leave now, if you guys don't mind. It's getting late."
John gives Dizzy a curt nod. His eyes narrow, suddenly. "Hey. You okay? I mean... you talked to Roger, yet?"
Rina tenses a fraction, her expression shadowing slightly; something about the tension between the two gives her a preoccupied look. There's a little concern, as she looks to Dizzy.
Francisco just watches, again taking it all in. Observant one, it seems.
"Yeah, we talked last night," Dizzy says, "I apologized to him for making a scene, and he told me about the Bunyip."
Rina doesn't quite suppress a smile, at the girl's summary; she ducks her head and gives it a rueful shake, her laughter entirely silent.
John just nods again. "Alright." he grunts. "I'll talk to him about it." He smiles slightly, then looks back to Francisco. The cub is, apparently, dismissed. "So. You got a place to stay, here, Frankie?"
Francisco gives a slow quirky half-smile at John's--well, mangling--of his name. "Not yet, no. I can find one with little trouble, though."
Dizzy nods and heads for the stairs, offering a simple, "G'Night you guys," before ascending towards her appartment.
"Night," Rina offers, giving the girl a smile over her shoulder.
John lifts a hand to point vaguely in the direction of upstairs. "Well. There's space up there for you. You'll get your own key, and access to most of the rest of the building." He looks to Rina again - almost as if just checking that she's there. "We don't ask much in return."