It is currently 13:23 Pacific Time on Sat Oct 19 2002.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (87% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 58
degrees Fahrenheit (14 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the southwest at 7 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.09 and
steady, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 56
degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)
Location: Whispering Pines - Rhiannon's Apt.
The cool cloudy day has not only caused Rhiannon to turn on the
heater--making it feel more like the southern pacific climate she's used
to--but it's also kept her inside. The apartment is a little cleaner than
usual, and her coffee table is once again the home of several case files,
all open and in varying stages of examination. One or two have reports
stapled to the front, but the majority still seem to be under review.
She's writing away in one of them, occasionally checking a data sheet for
verification.
There's a casual *knockknock* on Rhi's door. Stood outside is Ebony, map
in hand, looking vaguely tourist-y.
Rhiannon glances up at the knock on the door, and frowns. Well, she hadn't
expected Quentin back this soon, but maybe something came up. She pulls on
a blue and black checkered flannel that's clinging to the edge of the
couch, and glances out the peephole of the door. Her frown shifts to a
puzzled look, then recognition. She unlocks the door, but only open it
enough to be seen from outside.
Babbling about the newest line of G4 dual processors released from Apple
is Jeremy, standing at Ebon's side, grinning wildly like a cat. If he can
talk about one thing in this life, its computer components, and he talks
up a storm at the moment. As the door opens up, he stops, glances over to
Rhia, and grins widely. "Hey, we're part of the local Girl Scout troupe
and we were wondering if by chance you'd like a few boxes of thin mints."
Rhiannon arches one of her eyebrows and asks in a monotone voice laced
with curiosity, "Are they made from real Girl Scouts?"
Jeremy nods his head slowly. "Only the finest, ma'am."
Ebony eyes Jeremy oddly, then pipes up. "Real ones. Yep." His accent is
unmistakably British, though also a tad confused as well.
"Well, in that case," Rhiannon says with a slightly more genuine--if
tired--smile. She opens the door wide enough to permit them both inside,
and steps out of the way.
Giving Ebony a nudge, Jeremy makes his way inside, trudging upon booted
steel toes. He glances about the familiar apartment, then tosses a look
towards the female. "This here is Ebony, he is one of my best friends I
met online, kin too. He's here from the UK to stay."
Ebony follows the goth, hands clasping awkwardly behind his back.
"Something like that," he agrees at Jeremy's introduction, his dark eyes
regarding Rhi, then the room.
Rhiannon looks Ebony over in a manner that suggests she's sizing him up.
"The one you mentioned on voicemail." She completes her inspection before
asking, "UK? So you're here as a resident alien?"
Jeremy grins faintly as he brushes off his trench coat, humming to
himself. Look, he's all smiles, his face may crack!
Ebony shakes his head slightly. "Not exactly, ma'am," he replies,
britishly. "I've actually been in Boise, with family, for the past two
years. Visa and all."
Rhiannon nods. "Well let me know if you ever run into trouble with the
Imigration Nazis, I'll see if I can grease some wheels." She gestures at
the apartment. "Sorry for the mess, Quentin and I just don't seem to be
able to keep it clean."
"Ha, when Quentin lived with me, we had a perfect apartment, it was
/always/ clean." Jeremy rubs in with a jestful smile.
Ebony nods towards Rhi. "Thankyou," he murmurs, clearing his throat
quietly, before looking between her and Jeremy. He seems at a loss for
words, absently shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a
nervous reflex.
"Clean minds are sick minds," Rhiannon counters with a slow smile. "Can I
get you two anything to drink? Water, soda, that sort of thing..."
"I'm ok. Eb' 'ere is kinda new to the whole kin' thang. He's just two
years old I guess you can say." Turning to his friend, Jeremy swats him on
the shoulder lightly. "Rhia' here is kin too. She is a state marshall I
believe, right?" He glances over to her. "She's real clued and
knowledgeable."
With a faint grin, Ebony muses, "I'd love water, thanks." Then to Jeremy,
he notes, "I figured she would be, with what you were saying. Unless it's
no big secret here?"
"US Marshal," Rhiannon corrects Jeremy absently as she makes her way into
the kitchen. "We're federal in our jurisdiction. I work for the DOJ."
There's the sound of rummaging in the refridgerator, and she produces a
Brita pitcher. "And at least in this apartment, lobo business is a topic
as much as anything else."
Jeremy nods his head. "Among family we chat it up, how else we ganna get
comfortable eh'? But, I was only clarifying unless you thought she was one
of the big and fuzzies."
Ebony ohs quietly, seeming to relax a touch. "Righty. See, we didn't, at
home. Either Derbyshire or Boise. It was just there, in the background,
y'know?" He clears his throat quietly. "Still, that's kinda why I looked
for a job down here."
As if the phrase 'big and fuzzy' were a magic phrase for the summoning of
demons... a brisk, hard knock sounds on Rhiannon's door.
Rhiannon returns from the kitchen, handing Ebony his glass, and without
much pause walks towards the door again. Checking on who's come to call
before she opens it gives her enough reason to leave the guns in the
jacket, and simply allow the visitor inside. "What's up," she greets.
Jeremy glances over towards the door and grins. "Speaking of the devil.
Hey, its Salem." Glancing to the Brit, he mentions. "He is our resident
Half Moon."
Salem enters the apartment, bringing with him a nigh-palpable aura of
controlled rage. In truth, the predatory Philodox is in one of his better
moods, but a good mood on a full moon is such a relative thing.
"Afternoon, Rhiannon. Jeremy." He takes off the sunglasses, and one dark
brown eye focuses on the stranger. The other eye just stares, white and
blind.
Ebony seems to quail slightly when Salem's attention is turned to him.
Amusing, perhaps, to see a tall black man recoil so, but there it is. "Uh.
Hi?" he offers, his tone both timid and defensive at the same time.
Ebis "Ebony" Knight is a tall lanky youth of perhaps twenty years, darkly
colored by nature, though countering this somewhat via his mode of dress.
To look at, one might assume him to be of African descent; his skin is a
dark chocolate hue, complimented by near-black eyes. His hair would also
be black if he ever let it grow, the young man perpetually seen with a
shaved head. Despite his looks however, his accent would instead belie his
upbringing in England, Ebony's polite tones something of a constant
whatever his mood.
His build is rather tall and scrawny, prone to long and gangly limbs and
a slim torso rather than laying down fat or much muscle, though this is
partly obscured by the loose clothing he wears. The first article to draw
the eye is a large, neon-green hoodie, with dark blue writing on the front
spelling out 'EURO TRASH' in slashed letters, surrounded by a circle of
roughly-drawn yellow stars. Comparatively, his olive-drab combat pants are
rather dull, as are the sturdy army boots they tuck into, these laced up
along the lower half of his shin. On occasion, Ebony is also seen to sport
a pair of reading glasses, shaded oval lenses held in place by wafer thin
black metal rims.
"*One* of our half moons," Rhiannon corrects Jeremy, keeping her tone even
despite the desire to be sharp. "Ebony, this is Salem. Salem, Ebony. Kin.
He's from the UK."
"One of them." Jeremy says with a light huff as he brushes a hand back
through his black and blonded streaked hair.
Salem tucks the dark glasses into an inside pocket of his coat and steps
forward, offering his hand. "Welcome to St. Claire." His expression's
neutral, his tone of voice is nothing but polite. There's still the scars,
though, and that potential for mayhem.
Ebony takes the hand, shaking it loosely. "Thanks," he replies. Even
though Salem is a mere two inches taller, Ebony somehow seems a lot
smaller and more fragile than the looming devil's advocate. And, unable to
quite meet Salem's eyes, the Brit draws his hand back and looks over
towards Jeremy in an almost pleading manner.
"If you're looking for Quentin, you just missed him," Rhiannon says in an
attempt to save Ebony from any further scrutiny. "He went out for a little
while. I think he was feeling claustriphobic."
Jeremy wanders over to Ebony and clamps a hand on his shoulder, grinning a
bit. "Hey, I need to go and get some chores done." He passes a key into
his hand. "Here, let yourself in when you get home ok? I'll be back soon."
Salem responds to Ebony's cringing from him with an expression that's half
rueful, half irritated. A tight little grimace twists his mouth briefly,
and then he turns to Rhiannon. "Actually," says the Walker, "I came to see
_you_. Alicia stopped by the other night with more news about the pills."
Ebony takes the key, looking bleakly at Jeremy for a moment before
nodding. Time to trust a stranger, it seems. He sits down on a nearby
couch, watching Salem and Rhi with equal openness, though seeming to
prefer watching the other Kin instead of 'big and fuzzy'.
"More UL?" Rhiannon sounds annoyed. "The DEA and the local police don't
seem to know fuckall about what's going on with that." She looks over at
Ebony, and tells him, "Some new designer drug, 'UL', has been making the
rounds at raves. Normally it wouldn't be a Tribe thing but, these seem to
be Tainted, somehow." Rhiannon gestures at the kitchen, and addresses
Salem again. "Before we get into this, you need anything to drink?"
"Water'll be fine." Salem shrugs out of the long black trenchcoat, not to
mention the red flannel shirt underneath, in deference to the temperature
Rhiannon's got the apartment at. He hangs both over the back of the couch
and then settles himself on that same piece of furniture, legs stretched
out and crossed at the ankles.
In a voice that speaks entirely of naivity, Ebony queries, "'Tainted'?"
Seems someone is lacking in his education a little, or at least isn't used
to talking about whatever he /does/ know. Hands fold into his lap as he
asks, his demeanor that of one expecting to be dismissed.
The pitcher already out, Rhiannon returns shortly with Salem's water, and
a can of Cactus Cooler for herself. She looks thoughtful at Ebony's
question, and asks him, "You know about the Wyrm, that sort of thing?"
The question has the effect of turning Salem's eye back to Ebony. One
eyebrow lifts as he awaits the man's answer.
Ebony absently brushes a hand back along his head. "Sort of?" he responds,
smiling a tad sheepishly. "My..er...my uncle never really spoke about it
much, and then when I moved to Boise, it was just assumed that I would
know about everything."
Rhiannon mutters something in Spanish that has to be rude, although it
doesn't seem to be directed at Ebony. "Well, we'll get you a little
aquianted, then," she says firmly. "Things that are related to the Wyrm or
have been handled by the Wyrm's followers are, for lack of a better term,
spiritually dirty," she explains. "This 'dirt' can be spread. We call it
Tainting, or being Tainted, or just Taint."
"Evil and corruption," Salem says, folding his arms across his chest. "The
effects of one-third of an unbalanced triat of universal forces that's
gone from being one of balance to one of unfettered decay." It's the short
version and delivered briskly, even brusquely, and Jack soon turns his
gaze back to Rhiannon. "What I neglected to mention the other night is
that the taint in the pills isn't the usual taint. Alicia's found out why.
The distributors are vampires, and the organic component in them, which
Dexter couldn't analyze, is blood. Probably vampiric blood."
The young Brit's eyes widen a touch at Salem's words. Vampires? "B-blood?"
he manages to query, his voice betraying nerves. "Vampires?" Everything
Rhi said seems to pale in comparison, in his mind.
Rhiannon turns to look at Salem, and blinks. "*Vampires*?" She scratches
her head. "Why the hell spread vampire blood in drugs." The question is
directed more at the room than the others, and she thinks over the
situation. "Can they...effect people that way?" This time she's speaking
to Salem.
Salem glances at Ebony, but only for a moment. "Oh yes," he answers
Rhiannon, grimly. "Some find it addictive. In large quantities, it will
turn humans into ghouls. In lesser doses, ingesting the blood of a vampire
will cause a condition called a blood bond. In effect, someone who ingests
enough of a vampire's blood becomes a slave to the leech in belonged to.
Still with a mind of their own, but... submissive to the leech's needs and
desires." It hardly seems possible that the halfmoon could look more grim
after that, but he does. "And that is a _perfect_ reason to spread it
through freely-available pills."
Ebony blinks somewhat, listening intently to the exchange between the pair
of you. He dosen't offer anything of his own, figuring that he's out of
his league here. Still, it dosen't stop him making mental notes.
Rhiannon groans, and runs a hand through her hair. "Madre. Just what we
need, party kids slaves to leech wills. Fuck." The marshal pauses before
continuing in this vein, and gives Ebony a sympathetic look. "Sorry, this
is probably a lot to take in if no one's told you anything." She sighs.
"Maybe we can let Quentin test his skills as a Galliard by teaching Ebony
the basics." She glances at Salem for confirmation.
Salem seems to agree with Rhiannon's assessment of the situation, and he
nods at her suggestion as well. "It'd be good practice for him, yes." He
stretches, shoulders moving against the couch cushions in a restless way.
"How much do you know, Ebony?"
Ebony presses back into the couch slightly as he comes under the scrutiny
of both, eventually voicing, "Well....mu uncle kinda explained some.
About...the three, and one of them going into overload, which sent another
one insane...or something. And how th-..er....you, and the others, are
like the ones who fight the one that went insane." His words are
disjointed at best, reflective of exactly how much he dislikes the
subject.
"That's the general idea, but there's a lot of specifics you might want to
know. If only so you know how to stay safe." Rhiannon's tone is firm; she
thinks this is of vital importance. "Participating and helping out the
Tribe isn't a bad idea, but we don't expect you to pack heat and bust
heads." She smiles wryly.
Salem makes a thoughtful 'hmn' noise, rubbing at his bearded chin. He nods
in agreement with Rhiannon. "Here, family is family, whether you can grow
to nine feet tall or not." He gives the other man a faint smile that
probably would be a good deal less sinister on another individual. "How
did you come to learn about your heritage?"
Ebony dosen't seem all that reassured by Jack's smile, certainly. "Um." He
swallows, suddenly a good deal more nervous than he was a moment ago,
almost to the point of breaking out in a light sweat. Then he dosen't
continue, his dark eyes gaining a rather distant look.
"I know it's difficult being around them when the moon's big, Ebony,"
Rhiannon says in a low, gentle voice. "Don't let it get to you, though.
You're Kin. They're not going to hurt you, and you've got their blood
too."
"Be truthful, Rhiannon," the halfmoon says, the smile vanishing. "We _can_
lose control if provoked." He turns back to Ebony. "Use common sense,
though, and you should be fine."
If the young kin hears, he certainly dosen't show it. Ebony seems to be in
a reverie, a thousand or so miles away in a world of his own, and one that
- if his expression is anything to go by - isn't a pleasent one. In fact,
he looks mortified.
Rhiannon grimaces at Salem. "Sometimes it's easier to start small and work
to the big picture." She watches Ebony closely. "You still here on Earth?"
she asks hesitantly.
"Forewarned is forearmed," the Garou responds, taking a sip from his glass
of water. He, too, eyes Ebony curiously.
In actual fact, no, Ebony does not appear to be there on Earth, at least
in spirit. Nary a blink, nor a word in response, though his hands clench
at either side of his lap upon occasion. Almost as if he were dreaming
while awake, or some such thing.
Rhiannon opens her mouth to respond, then figures it's not really worth it
on such a full moon to argue varying philosophies. She instead continues
to watch the other Kin. "Well, I think he's gone over the high side for a
little trip."
"Hm." Salem leans over and, experimentally, snaps his fingers in front of
Ebony's face.
Ebony startles quite badly at the snap, his hands raised as if to defend
himself from whatever made the noise. Then, with a moment taken to react,
he blinks owlishly up at the pair of you, confusion written across his
dark features.
"Got vacation slides for us?" Rhiannon smiles ruefully, and hands Ebony
his water. "Drink up. You were spacing out there."
Salem withdraws his hand and sips his water, regarding the male kin rather
dubiously.
In an automated response, Ebony takes the glass and drinks slowly, until
it's all gone. "Sorry," he replies eventually, seeming a little unnerved.
"It....happens. I'm okay now." He nods slightly, to reassure himself of
that fact, then continues, "How did I learn about it? That's the trouble."
Rhiannon arches one of her brows. "Don't tell me someone went all snarling
and hairy on you?"
Ebony shakes his head awkwardly. "No...no....I don't think I'd be alived
to tell the tale if someone had," he replies hastily. "But.....well.....my
father. One minute he was arguing with my uncle.....and.....the next he's
dead on the floor, bleeding and.....my uncle is this......monster." He
swallows, his hand gripping the glass so tightly that his knuckles are
whitening, even under his dark skin.
Salem clenches his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Ah," he
says, darkly. "A... less than ideal initiation." Understatement, anyone?
"Ah, Gaia." Rhiannon rubs her forehead. "Well, I guess you already know,
some Garou just don't know when to leave the room, and some Kin don't know
when to shut up."
Ebony lifts the non-glass-holding hand to rub over his eyes, as if perhaps
fending off a tear or two. "They always argued....money, or about mum, or
sometimes even me....but it never.....it never got that bad. And
then....my uncle tried.....talking to me like nothing had happened....like
he....hadn't just killed my father....and then I was in Boise." He seems
rather traumatised by the ordeal, though who woulden't?
"For what it's worth, hermano, the lobos of our Tribe here are usually a
little better controlled than that." Rhiannon gives Salem a look before
adding, "At least, those I've dealt with are. But I was raised among
Garou. It's a little different, for me."
"You have my sympathies," Salem says evenly. His mouth has that dour
little twist to it again. "How long were you in Boise?"
Ebony shrugs listlessly. "Two years, give or take a month. My mum's family
live there, with others. They never brought it up though; guess they
didn't want to upset me while I was doing exams and stuff." A short pause,
and he begins to straighten. "Sorry, though. I should probably go....need
to finish moving into Jeremy's..." he adds, quite plainly uncomfortable in
remaining.
Allowing that being around Salem might not be easy, on a full moon and
after such an event, Rhiannon nods. "It's not a problem. In the mean time,
try and keep an ear open about this drug business," she suggests to Ebony.
"If you hear anything about 'UL', or local raves and parties and drugs,
give me a ring." She produces a business card from the mess on the coffee
table.
Salem merely sips his water, saying nothing; he simply nods in response to
Ebony's remark about finishing his move.
Ebony rises, straightening to his full 6'1" and talking Rhi's card.
"Thanks, I will," he murmurs, nodding to her, then towards the other male
before slipping out hastily.
Salem watches the man go, then shakes his head and takes another swallow
of water. "Wonderful." His tone is lightly sour.
Rhiannon watches Ebony go, and after the door has shut, pinches the bridge
of her nose. "I don't want to speculate on how long it'll be before he
stops seeing you all as another chance to get killed."
"Perhaps around the same time that Cat's ready to be Rited?" The Philodox
grimaces, then shakes his head, studying the contents of his glass.
"Though the boy seems better. Told me that he'd decided what he wanted to
do with his life, or some such thing. Not that I had a chance to find out
_what_... mnh." He looks up, frowning, eyes narrowed. "Did anything...
_interesting_ happen while I was away this past week?"
"Eh, you're askin' the wrong person there. I've been sleeping in the
office as often as I've been here." Rhiannon taps her chin. "Quentin
cooked me dinner, though. In as much as that's interesting."
Salem grunts. "Has his attitude improved, then?"
"He's getting better. Doesn't seem as gloom and doom about everything."
Rhiannon pauses, and adds, "Despite certain others vanishing. I guess it's
better, he didn't know them too well."
Salem snaps his fingers. "Speaking of that, we may have another possible
lead, if we can get hold of one of the Fianna. Eamon's a new moon and,
according to Luke, may know a trick or two that can help us locate
Francisco."
Rhiannon blinks. "Seriously? How do we find any? Are they all Caernwards?"
She's clearly trying to be hopeful, without relying on the possibility.
"Mostly," Salem answers, after taking another sip of water. "The moot's
Tuesday. I'll do my best to catch him sometime before or after that and
ask if he can help."
Rhiannon grips her hands together. "Thanks. At this point, even the
smallest bit of information is better than nothing. For me, and for
Jorge." She looks away, her expression distant, but after only a few
seconds she shakes her head. "I, should get back to these casefiles."
Salem, taking the hint, finishes off his water and stands up. "I'll leave
you to it, then. If I hear anything more about UL or Neo-Night... or about
Francisco, I'll contact you."
Rhiannon rubs her palms along her pants, nodding. "And I'll see if the
locals have heard anything new. I want to stop this before we have ghouls
running around, or worse." She stands as well, following the Philodox to
the door.
Salem dons the red flannel overshirt and his coat on the way, nodding. "Or
worse indeed." He shakes his head, then offers up a faint smile for the
kinswoman. "In any case... be seeing you. Give Quentin my regards."
"Sure thing. Give Cat a Dr. Pepper for me, or something." Rhiannon's own
smile is a little wane, and tired.
Salem almost grins at that; one corner of his mouth crooks a little higher
upwards. "Will do." He dips his head to her, then departs.