Alicia at Home

[hazlogs]

It is currently 09:34 Pacific Time on Thu Sep 5 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 43 degrees
Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric
pressure reading is 30.04 and rising, and the relative humidity is 97
percent. The dewpoint is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (12% full).

Tom and Alicia's Place

This is a not-so-typical college student dwelling. It consists of one
large main area, a smaller bedroom with its own little bathroom and a
small kitchen. The main room is all too neat for a college student. There
is the usual assortment of entertainment items: TV, Stereo, VCR, and a
couple of video game systems. Beside that is also a small stand containing
an electric guitar and small amp. The rest of the furniture is simple, a
large chair and couch, both brown to match the carpet. A wide window at
the far end of the room lets in large amounts of sunlight during the day.
Along the opposite wall is a bookcase. Predicitably enough, the bookcase
is filled with books, and on top of it there are several pictures of Tom
and his family, though oddly enough, there are no pictures of him in the
past five years, not even a high school graduation pictures.


Salem, cub in tow, arrives at the door to the Gaian's apartment and
knocks.

After a few minutes of silence go by, the door of the apartment opens up,
revealing a blurry eye'd Alicia, batting her eyes, hair frumpled up and
out of place. She is wearing a pair of PJ's and cute wolf slippers.

Salem has brought an offering of fresh bagels, all wrapped in a clean
white paper bag with the logo of a local deli on the front. "Sleep well?"
the halfmoon asks, pleasantly enough and with a touch of dry humor. His
expression's completely neutral.

A slight quirk of Quentin's lips at Alicia's look, but he doesn't say a
word.. just leaning against the wall across from the door and letting
Salem talk. He can't resist, though-- "Nice slippers."

Yawning, raising her arms up to stretch out her body, the Gaian gives you
a peek of rock hard abs beneath her baby top, then turns back into the
apartment. "Mmm... slept like a rock. C'mon in. Ah've been up fo'ah bit.
Tom 'ad ta' go to class early, so staring at deh'ceiling was suckage."

Salem ushers Quentin in first, then follows, closing the door behind him.
"Indeed. Had breakfast yet?" He offers the white paper bag, temptingly.

Quentin is herded through the door, and steps out of the way to let Salem
come through and the door be closed.. both hands clasping at the small of
his back as he looks around, observing absently, "Nice place."

"Thanks. Its Tom's place, I kinda just live 'ere." Alicia says, stiffling
another yawn into her hand. At the offered bag, a wry smile touches her
lips. "Starved actually." Taking the bag from him, she offers a thankful
grin, then flops down onto the couch. "How're ya?"

Salem takes a perch on one arm of the couch, shrugging out of his coat as
he does so. "Keeping busy," is his answer, light and casual. "Occupied.
You know."

"I hear ya. I see ya brought th'rug rat with ya also." Alicia says,
winking over in Quentin's direction as she relaxes back in the soft
cushions of the couch. Fishing a bagel out, she gives it a quick munch.

Salem casts a brief look over toward Quentin and nods. "For a bit of fresh
air. And to allow him to absorb th e wisdom of a Rited member of his
auspice. There's a touch of humor there, in his voice, though it's not
mocking.

A slight smirk cast back over to Alicia at the 'rug rat' comment, and
Quentin admits with a glance over to Salem, "I've been talking some to
Renee-rhya, but she can be a little hard to talk to sometimes.."

Salem stiffens, the dry good humor in his face vanishing at mention of
Renee. "You've been seeking advice from _her_?"

"I talked to her last night. She's pretty hip to the Urrah thing, I just
don't know 'bout the Galliard routine." Alicia smiles, then takes another
bite of the bagel, chewing thoughtfully. "Give me a few minutes to get
dressed, then I'll be ready."

"Well.." Quentin's brow furrows a bit as he looks over to Salem,
hesitating a moment before observing, "I haven't really had any other
galliards to talk to. And you didn't have a problem with me learning from
Kaz.."

"Kaz is different," Salem says flatly. "Kaz, Bone Gnawer or not, is worthy
of the rank she holds. And no, I don't have _any_ problem with her
teaching you. Renee, however, is a cur. What has she been telling you?"

Alicia clears her throat a bit and stands up, heading down the hallway to
her room. This is a conversation best left between them.

Salem doesn't look up as the Gaian leaves to dress. His gaze remains fixed
dourly on Quentin.

Quentin shifts slightly, both arms folding over his chest in a minor
display of defiance. "Not that much," he admits, tipping his head to one
side, "I haven't really gotten around to asking her much. We had an
argument about how close the 'Walkers are to the Weaver, though, so I can
see where you wouldn't like her. Aside from that, she seems alright."

Heading back out into the living room, Alicia is wearing a baby tee and a
pair of tight fitted plasticy red pants. The wolf slippers happen to still
be on her feet.

Salem grimaces. "She typifies the worst and most common aspects of her
tribe," he says. "Living in filth. Hating anyone who chooses not to loll
about in the gutter. Not to mention her backwards ideas about humanity's
worth." His eyes remain steady on the cub's; even the blind one seems to
stare at him. "There are plenty of other Galliards for you to learn from
that you don't have to go grubbing for shit."

"I don't think she's quite as hateful as you think, Salem-rhya," Quentin
says with a shake of his head, looking away then across the apartment when
he's unable to keep the philodox's gaze and frowning, "If you want,
though, I won't talk to her anymore. You're the boss, after all."

"Mmm.." Alicia murmurs softly as she clasps her hands together in front of
her, waiting for them to finish up.

"I've talked to her. I know the kind of opinions she has." Still, at the
last remark, he nods in curt satisfaction. "Good." Then he turns his
attention toward Alicia, taking in her attire without a blink. "Welcome
back."

A look back over towards Alicia, and a blink.. and then another one.
Quentin doesn't comment this time.

"Thanks." Alicia says, glancing from Salem to Quentin. A look of amusement
fills her features, though she doesn't voice it. "So, where shall we start
at?"

Salem, for answer, looks over at the cub and arches a brow. He folds his
arms across his chest.

Quentin recovers from that moment, shaking his head a bit and admitting
with a shrug, "Aside from the color text, I'm really not sure what the
hell us Galliards are supposed to -do-."

"Ah. Starting from scratch." Alicia flops down in Tom's chair and leans
forward some, placing hands upon her knees. Red and black streaked hair
falls over her shoulders, framing her face. "Well, Galliard's are kind of
like the all in one entertainment type Garou, backed up with the
credentials of a History teacher. We are the song writers, the story
tellers, the passers of good and bad news. Our voices, actions, everything
we do is to help keep tradition alive through the tales of our ancestors,
and to inspire our fellow brothers and sisters to keep their chin up and
keep pushing on. Our voices are the strongest in battles, and our rage is
almost as deep as our Ahroun companions, thus', we aren't too shabby when
it comes to throwing down also."

Salem shifts his position from the arm of the couch to the couch itself,
as Alicia speaks. The prickly ire that had arisen when he spoke to the
younger Walker about Renee is starting to cool. Slowly.

Quentin, similarly, settles down against the couch and clasps both hands
between his knees as he leans in to listen. "Alright," he muses, tilting
his head to one side, "That makes sense. Dunno if I could write a song to
save my life, never tried, but.."

"It just comes naturally actually sugar." Alicia says as she tilts her
head to the side. "But most of us Galliard's use our ancestor's songs to
help remind us an keep tradition alive, let us know where our roots at.
This day of age, pop culture music isn't really inspiring to the Garou,
so, sometimes we gotta pick up a drum and beat it to death. As a Galliard
myself, I am a bit more eccentric then most, such as Kaz or Renee. I am
not much a story teller as say.. Jarred, but I'm more of an inspiring
voice, a 'pick me up' so to speak. Some Galliard's earn it through their
voice, I try to do so with my actions ya'know? I know I can't tell a
silver record story if my life depended on it, but I've shown through the
war we were recently in that I am able to encourage those about me to try
harder and to not give up."

"Silver record story?" Quentin blinks a little, hesitating before
attempting in uncertain tones, "Is that, like, a platinum record or
something?"

Alicia bites her lip with a slight grin, winking. "Something like that.
The greatest stories and legend's of our people are recorded into it and
engrained in the memory of the best Galliard's world wide. I have never
seen it personally, but I hear its a buncha glyphs engraved together that
only we can read." She rubs her ear a bit. "Jarred actually may know
something about that, since he's had a chance to travel to a few Septs
outside of ours."

Salem puts a word in on the Silver Record. "Very old, very elaborate, very
traditional. The Walk has its own ways in regards to history, but it's not
seen much outside of a Walker-dominated Sept. Which ours isn't."

Quentin glances over to Salem at his input, and then frowns a bit as he
looks back to Alicia. "Jarred.. that's the Shadow Lord elder, right? I
think I remember him from the moot.."

"Mmm.. Yah. Thats the Shadow Lord Elder. We bump heads a -lot-. I think he
views me more as competition, then as anything else. He doesn't know me
much. I think he's a bit pissy I've rose up in the ranks so quickly right
outta cub'dom and have done a lot of stuff." Alicia shakes her head a bit
with a sigh. "If you were to approach him, I'd take Salem with ya." She
shifts a shoulder.

Salem nods once in agreement, lips thinned into a grimace. "You know my
opinion of Bone Gnawers. But I'd rather trust even Renee at my back than
Jarred. A Bone Gnawer may be a cur, but a Shadow Lord simply cannot be
trusted, or at least can only be trusted so far as it's to his advantage."

Quentin grimaces just a bit, observing rather dryly, "It figures. Most of
the galliards in the city are apparently 'not to be trusted'.." A hand
raises to scratch beneath his chin, as he nods reluctantly, "Alright.
Songs, stories, morale, Bob Hope."

Alicia laughs. "Has anyone told you not to trust me?" She asks, eyes
twinkling a hint in mirth, actually curious about the forthcoming answer.

"Synthesis has a new packmate who's also a Galliard," Salem notes, not
responding to the cub's sardonic reply. "A Silent Strider named Tatt. She
has a great deal of experience, and you might consider bending her ear as
well." He smiles thinly and adds, "She's almost as interesting as our diva
here."

"No," Quentin admits with a sidelong glance over towards Alicia, before
looking back to Salem and nodding a bit, "Alright.. er.." A pause, "Which
ones were the Silent Striders?"

"The Striders are typically the messengers of the Garou. They run from one
part of the world to the next, hardly staying in one place. They are all
mystical and stuff, knowing a lotta secrets, mostly dark ones. They are a
wealth of info." Alicia answers, peering at the cub through a veil of red
bangs.

Salem stretches his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
"Egyptian Garou, originally," he says, folding his arms across his chest.
"Bred with the jackals." He nods at Alicia's words, then cocks his head
slightly, favoring his good eye as he regards the cub. "Do you remember
your first Moot, when Wyld was summoned up? There were two Theurges, and
one was very short, looking rather Anubis-like? That was Sepdet, a Strider
who has, I believe, been here since the caern was first reawakened in the
early nineties."

The two are listened to attentively as they each speak, and Quentin nods
to the question from Salem. "Yeah," he says thoughtfully, "I think I
remember her. She was there when they summoned up a new caern spirit too,
right?"

"Sepdet is very powerful, I'm not surprised she was involved in all of
that." Alicia says, stretching out in the couch, tucking her hands behind
her head.

Salem nods. "Then, too," he says, referring to the Moot in which Chimera
was called. "And proof that not all Striders choose to be anruth, or
wandering Garou."

Quentin nods once more, his lips pursing for a moment. "Alright. So.." He
looks between the two again, "..I guess I should learn, like, some songs
and stories and.. such?"

"Stories, mostly," Salem says. "History. Also, keep your ears open for
news to spread. That's another duty of your auspice."

"That," Quentin says with a slightly relieved chuckle, "I can do. I'm not
sure how I'd do at singing.. I can tell a decent story, though. I used to
scare the hell out of my players back when I ran D&D games."

"Singing isn't for everyone. I just do it because its in my heart. Its my
way of release." Alicia notes to the cub as she reaches over for her half
eating bagle.

Salem glances toward the Child of Gaia. "And how well you do it, too," he
says dryly. "Especially after a few beers."

Quentin raises an eyebrow slightly, looking between the two and asking
dryly, "I shouldn't ask, should I."

Alicia places her face in her hands, running her fingers down slowly,
groaning.

Salem looks rather amused, in his own controlled, saturnine, sardonic
manner. "No need for embarrassment. You were marvelous."

Quentin nods to himself in silent confirmation, agreeing under his breath,
"I shouldn't ask."

"Oh, its no big deal.. I just popped down way too many an found myself up
on a stage with a Mic, half dressed and wailing Pat Benetar songs in front
of half the Sept." Grinning faintly, Alicia clears her throat, peeking out
from her fingers.

Salem makes a 'tch' noise. "Not half the Sept. Just myself... and Dizzy,
and Rhiannon, and one of the Bone Gnawers... and I think I spotted one of
your tribemates in the back. Plus the rest of the pool hall." His face and
voice have gone perfectly bland.

The response to that explaination is a rather overly-innocent question
from Quentin. "Half-dressed? Which half?"

"Use your imagination Quentin." Alicia says, blowing a kiss his way with a
giggle. "But whatcha think Salem? If I actually gave it a shot, ya think I
have a chance for super stardom on the stage?"

"Mm," says the Philodox, apparantly thoughtful. "Rock star eco-terrorist.
It has a certain flair, I admit."

Quentin chuckles under his breath, "Well, you dress like Britney.. you
could get enough drooling fanboys, at least."

Alicia giggles and stands up, stretching herself out again. "Mmm.. Well,
unlike Britney, I need more then a few hours of sleep. Guys, I'm ganna
crash. Feel free to hit the kitchen up for whatever, watch TV, yadda
yadda." She yawns into her hand, blinking her eyes. "Quentin, if you wanna
hang out more, you are free to. I'm good for some lessons if ya wanna."

Salem gets to his feet, giving his watch a glance. "I'm actually due at
work in a bit." He glances over at the cub. "Is there any place in
particular you'd like me to drop you?"

A glance to Salem, and then to Alicia.. and Quentin hesitates a moment
before allowing with a nod to the other galliard, "If she doesn't mind, I
can hang here 'till she wakes up.. I need to learn stuff, might as well
grab whoever's willing and has the time."