Tolerable Nameless Person

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:35 Pacific Time on Mon Aug 19 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 72 degrees
Fahrenheit (22 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
southwest at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.90 and steady, and
the relative humidity is 51 percent. The dewpoint is 53 degrees Fahrenheit
(11 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (75% full).

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees,
a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a
flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and
about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of
old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel
slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around
the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright
mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a
large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in
robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek
symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its
feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any
residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of
the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of
St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several
feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.


Salem's daily run is usually in the early morning, when the rest of the city
is still waking up and muddling over their collective first cup of coffee.
Today, though, he's broken routine and is out when most people are getting
home from work and having dinner.

Aiyana has gone for a walk; tired of sitting around the apartment all day
the cub has decided to get out and stretch her legs. She's taking her time,
her stride slow as she looks around the park, enjoying the scenery. Happy
day for her, so far.

The jogging Glass Walker takes a wide turn around the boundary of the park,
and judging from the sheen of sweat, he's coming near the end of his run. At
the very least, he's been at this a while. His pace slows when he spots the
Bone Gnawer cub, but though he gives her the eye, he doesn't approach.

Aiyana starts to head towards the fountain, folding her arms behind her back
as she walks. She has yet to notice the creepy Salem and perhaps that's for
the best, given her current relaxed mood.

Salem swings around toward the fountain, his speed decreasing down to a
brisk walk. He's not sneaking up behind the cub or anything; in fact, his
approach is obvious enough that she's bound to notice him before he gets
anywhere near her.

Aiyana dips a hand into the water and lets it trickle back into the pool.
Her eyes glance around as she lifts her head, spotting movement. Then the
figure registers. "...hello," she says after a moment's consideration,
waving briefly towards the Walker. "Didn't expect to see anyone I know
here."

Salem arches a brow. He's sweating and breathing hard, but retains that aura
of icy dignity despite his current state. "You're joking. This place is
Grand Central." There's a small white towel hanging around his neck, and he
uses it to wipe his face.

Aiyana shrugs. "I don't come here often enough then, I suppose." She looks
back at the fountain again, avoiding Salem's gaze whenever possible. When
she does risk looking at him, it's never in the eyes. "Um..I've been meanin'
to talk with you. Sir," she adds quickly.

[Aiyana]

	This young girl is around 5'6", of slender yet muscular build, and
seems to be Hispanic/Italian/African in descent. That mixed heritage
represents itself in the color of her skin, which happens to be almost
caramelish in hue. The color of her eyes are a mix of amber with chocolate
brown flecks scattered about in them. Long black hair, which is dyed a flame
red at the bottom, dangles down to the middle of her back. She wears it
pulled back and, for the most part, kept out of her face except for a few
strands that droop down into her eyes to form bangs. Her right eyebrow is
pierced with a single metal hoop, as is both earlobes. Her tongue is pierced
as well.

	Her current outfit consists of: a pair of guy's baggy black jeans
that go down to about her knees and a plain, red tank top. A red and black
bandana has been tied around her forehead, giving her a slightly 'thuggish'
appearance.


Salem wipes at his neck, regarding the Gnawer steadily. He doesn't seem
surprised. "About?" His tone is cool.

Aiyana sits down on the edge of the fountain. "About how I can prove to you
that I'm not some worthless street punk Gnawer cub. So you won't glare at
me, or treat me like shit anymore."

Salem's mouth twists into a grimace, distaste pushing aside the usual bland,
polite detachment. "I see. Because of Jeremy?"

Aiyana shakes her head. "Not totally. I just wanna be treated like a regular
person. Or, at least, a tolerable nameless person. But Jeremy is a part of
it, yeah."

Salem looks down at her. Rather literally, since he's over half a foot
taller, but his gaze is critical and his expression dubious. "Right now,
presuming that you haven't been abusing my trust, you _are_ a 'tolerable
nameless person'."

Aiyana resists the urge to look up, instead settling for a nod. "Doesn't
seem like it, though. I'm just one of those damn Gnawers to you.
And...well..." She scrunches up her nose, becoming a little frustrated as
she searches for the right words. "I don't wanna be a damn Gnawer. I wanna
be just a Gnawer. Or at the very least, a cub who might one day learn
somethin' from you without fearin' your wrath." Arms wrapping around her
waist, she finally does look up at Salem for a brief moment. "Cause you seem
like you could teach me a lot, 'specially about fightin'. And that's
somethin' I'm gonna need to know about, if I ever wanna stop bein' a cub."

Salem folds his arms across his chest. "I can teach you fighting. And while
I've killed members of your tribe," -- he drops this little fact with
perfect ease, without blinking -- "I've never killed a cub. Nor would I, out
of respect for Kaz. In past, I _have_ taught Bone Gnawer cubs." He cocks his
head to one side as if favoring his good eye as he regards her. "As for
gaining my respect, or impressing me, or 'proving' yourself to me... I can't
say. Show me you're a Garou and not just some damned cur, and we'll see."

Aiyana listens while the Walker speaks and, when he's done, she nods. It's
better than a flat out no, she guesses, even if the killing Gnawers comment
does make her flinch visibly. "Thank you, sir," the cub says in a quiet tone
as she takes a step back away from him. "I'm sure I'll learn a bunch of
stuff on how t' be a proper Ahroun from you, or..well, I'm just not meant to
be one." She's not sure if she should run off now and leave Salem to his
business, or wait for him to dismiss her. "Um, should I look for you when I
wanna start trainin', or will you find me?"

"Call me." Salem takes his wallet out of a pocket of his sweatpants, fishes
a plain-looking business card on it, and hands it over. The phone number for
his apartment -- not his cellphone -- is on it. Nothing else -- no name, no
e-mail address, no physical address. "If I'm not home, leave a message."

Aiyana warily takes the card, glances over it, then tucks it into one of her
pockets. "All right. Any certain times I should call, or just take my luck?"
Her stance relaxes somewhat as she folds her arms behind her back again.

A stray few strands of hair have escaped the elastic band of his ponytail,
and he pushes it away from his face, tucking it behind one ear. "I'm usually
in during the evenings."

Aiyana nods. "Okay. I guess I'll be seein' ya?" The cub waves and turns,
beginning to walk off. "Thanks again, sir."

"Thank your elder," the Glass Walker responds, curtly. He seems no
friendlier than before.