Getting Jewel to Eat

[hazlogs]

[Date: 7/5/97]

Jewel pads slowly into the barn, tail drooping low. The thin wolf looks near 
  to exhausted as she settles down by the side of the door and looks out into 
  the barn.
Erik seems glad for the distraction. Turning toward the new arrival, he 
  murmurs, "Jewel?"
Jewel raises her head. It seems to take her a moment to focus on Erik, but 
  when she does, she rises to her feet and greets her tribemember. I am 
  alright. Just very tired for some reason.

[Jewel, lupus]
This adolescent wolf is thin, but keen-eyed and alert. Her fur is a dark red, 
  shading to black at feet and muzzle. Hazel eyes reflect back the light with 
  an uneasy mix of intelligence and calculation not found in most wild wolves. 
  The other discordant note is the wolf's jewlery; her ears are pierced with 
  several stud earrings that look out of place on such a feral creature.

Erik moves toward the young wolf and gets down on one knee near her. For a 
  moment he looks her over, head tilted, and then asks, "Have you eaten?"
Elan nods to Jewel as he goes to the road, motioning Hank along. "Come on, 
  man."
Jewel sits down with a rush and melts fluidly into her birth form. "Eaten? Um, 
  when?"
Hank nods to Elan, heading after him. "Later guys..."
Elan makes his way down the lane.
Elan has left.
Erik sighs quietly. "Jewel, what is the last thing you ate, and when?"
Hank makes his way down the lane.
Hank has left.
Jewel runs a hand through her hair, tugging distractedly at her earrings. "Um, 
  I had a salad last night."
Erik tilts his head. "Just a salad? What about before that?"
Jewel wrinkles her forhead as she tries to remember what it was she ate last. 
  "I, um, caught a mouse yesterday morning and ate it. Some carrots."
Erik lets out a sigh and gets to his feet, shaking his head a bit. "Jewel, 
  come with me."
"Where are we going," asks the raggie in a faintly suspicious tone of voice.
Erik's voice is quiet, but firm. "Into the kitchen."
James ponders a moment, then goes into the barn quietly.
James opens one of the doors to the barn, and disappears into its cavernous 
  depths.
James has left.
Jewel rises to her feet and shrugs. "Oookay."
Jewel slides open the glass door of the farmhouse, taking the two steps up to 
  enter it.
Jewel has left.
You slide open the door and take the two steps, entering the large room 
  divided into the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house.

Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room
Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's 
  kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist 
  height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators 
  occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The 
  kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the 
  double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a twin-pane 
  window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set into an 
  alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep freezer as 
  well as shelves of dry goods.
Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling, 
  lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to the 
  kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three chairs 
  setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a large 
  window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set into the 
  north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves containing 
  a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few decorative 
  nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room from the 
  kitchen.
An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of the 
  house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing behind 
  the house.
Contents:
Jewel
Obvious exits:
Hallway/Living Room  Back Door  

Erik gestures the cub vaguely toward the kitchen table. "Sit, please."
Jewel folds herself down into a chair, tucking her chin onto her knees.
Erik unshoulders the violin case and sets it down. "You don't eat very often, 
  do you?"
Jewel shakes her head. "No." The statment seems to require more of an 
  explaination than that, so she adds, "I've started eating more since I've 
  been out here. But I don't like eating."
Erik moves toward the refrigerator and opens it. "Why not?" He bends down a 
  bit, rummaging about.
Jewel shrugs. "Just don't think about it much, I guess. And while I was high, 
  I never needed to eat. Or at least I never thought about needing to eat."
Erik straightens up again, having found a collection of cold-cuts. "Do you, 
  er, like mayonaise or mustard?"
Jewel eyes the sandwich meat with an expression typically reserved for week 
  old corpe. "Um...neither?" Her tone of voice suggests that she does not 
  think she's going to get away with this.
No, she's not. "Mustard, then," says Erik, and sets the lunchmeat down on the 
  counter with the jar of yellow mustard. More rummaging follows in order to 
  find bread, plate, cutting board, and knife. "You need to eat more, Jewel," 
  he says. "You weren't born a skeleton."
Jewel wrinkles her nose at Erik. "You sound like Leo," she complains. "Eat, 
  eat. No one's going to want someone who's skin and bones. I eat!"
Erik's shoulders tense, but he doesn't waver, otherwise. Pulling off his coat, 
  he sets it over the back of a chair and then strips off his gloves to wash 
  his hands. Thin, skeletal, pallid flesh stretched far too tight over bone, 
  the fingers long and spidery. "You don't eat enough, though, I don't think. 
  That's why you're tired."
"But if I eat more, I'll get fat."
Erik turns slightly as he dries his hands. "Fat?" he echoes, looking at her.
Jewel looks up at Erik, puzzeled by his reaction. "Yeah, fat. You know."
Erik is silent for a moment. Then: "A salad, a mouse, and some carrots. If you 
  don't eat more, you'll die. We're very strong, but even Garou need food." He 
  turns again and starts assembling the sandwich. "You won't get fat in any 
  case. Garou rarely get fat. Humans do, because they... they're often lazy."
Jewel wrinkles her forehead. This is obviously not making a strong impression 
  on her, although she seems willing to choke down the sandwich. "We don't?"
It's going to be a hefty sandwich, too. Erik shakes his head. "Not usually. 
  Duty doesn't let us simply... simply lie about in the sun. Or whatever." 
  Meat, lettuce, a couple sliced of tomato, mustard, bread. He even cuts it in 
  half, diagonally. "Gaia isn't served by us being too fat to move. Or," he 
  adds, setting the plate in front of the cub, "by being too weak from 
  malnutrition."
In the front rooms, Christian comes down the stairs.
In the front rooms, Christian goes through the aperture at the northern end of 
  the front hallway to enter the back room of the house.
Christian has arrived.
It really does seem that Jewel's main problem is that she simply does not 
  think about food. She eats the meal willingly enough, although she does pick 
  out the tomato and leaves a few bites. "You really do sound like Leo. I just 
  never think to eat."
Christian comes in from the back door, into the kitchen, to the smell of food. 
  "Hey, there."
Erik watches the cub for a moment, then turns back toward the refrigerator, 
  nodding absently to Christian. "Well, I will try to remind you as often as 
  possible," he says, getting out the milk jug. "And I may get a few of the 
  others to remind you as well." He pours out a tall glass and sets /that/ in 
  front of Jewel as well.
Jewel looks at the milk dubiously. "Milk?"
Erik nods. "Milk." He pauses. "It's good foryou."
Christian clears his throat. "Umm, Rholeen asked me to warn you guys that a 
  tow truck driver might drop in soon. Don't know if it will be today, though. 
  Just so you'd be ready."
Jewel rolls her eyes skyward in a silent plea for patient. "Milk," she says in 
  a sing-song-chant. "It does a body good." Then she takes a long look at the 
  milk, then at Erik. "If I drink the milk like a good little girl, can I see 
  what you really look like?" She gives a nod to Christian.
Erik nods distractedly at Christian, then turns to Jewel. He stares at her for 
  a moment, then says, abruptly, "Yes, but only if you promise not to purge 
  yourself afterwards."
Jewel makes a face. "Ew. That's disgusting! Some of the other girls used to do 
  that, but man, it stunk."
Erik sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck under the mask. "I had to make 
  sure." He gestures toward the plate and glass with a pale, thin hand. "Now 
  finish that up."
Jewel does so, although it is with a touch of reluctance. However, the food 
  does seem to make her feel better, and her face is regaining it's usual 
  mischevious air.
Erik folds his arms across his chest, watching the cub silently as she eats.
Jewel drains the last swallow of milk and gets up to stuff her dishes into the 
  wash. "Happy now?"
Erik nods to Jewel. His head turns to glance at Christian for a moment before 
  he turns his attention back toward the cub. "Do you really want to see this?"
Jewel sits down on the chair and looks at Erik. "If I had not wanted to see," 
  she says quite seriously, "I would not have asked."
Christian nods, once, to Erik.
Erik sighs a bit. Without further word, he sweeps off the hat and then pulls 
  off the mask.

Erik(#2989Pceq)
This tall figure, his body almost completely shrouded in shabby dark clothing, 
  stands out in almost any crowd. Six feet, six inches, thin and gangly, he 
  usually carries himself in an unobtrusive manner, as though unwilling to put 
  himself in the center of attention. Little of him can be seen, for the wide 
  brim of the worn ebony fedora is pulled down, and the collar of his 
  cloaklike black coat is turned up. His hands are gloved, his boots old and 
  scuffed.
His face is a horror, a living death's head with corpse-pallid skin stretched 
  drum-tight over too-obvious bone. A few wisps of dark hair cling to a 
  miserable existence on his otherwise bald scalp, and his eyes -- brilliant 
  green and raw with undisguised emotion -- gaze apprehensively out from 
  deep-set, misaligned sockets. His cheeks are sunken and hollow, and rather 
  than a nose he has only a pair of gaping holes, a feature which only 
  emphasizes the skull-like appearance.
His voice is similarly startling, even freakish in its unearthly beauty and 
  purity of tone. This flawless tenor is colored by a faint Irish lilt, 
  attractive and compelling. (+details) 
Carrying:
Violin Case(#2883S$)

Christian crosses his arms on his chest as he sees Erik, yet his face and gaze 
  stay the same, unwavering stone-hard features.
Jewel's eyes grow wide -- a mixture of horror and twisted facination -- as she 
  looks at the metis. One hand reaches out, then retracts back just as quickly 
  as it was extended. "You're right," she finally manages to say in a faintly 
  shaking voice. "You are pretty damned ugly. Why?"
Thin, pale fingers twist the cloth of the mask. Erik keeps his eyes on the 
  floor, unwilling to see their faces, his body tense. "You said you'd been 
  told the Litany." The beauty of his voice wars in sharp contrast with the 
  sheer ugliness of his face. "The first law, do you remember it?"
Jewel sits back, her legs still tucked beneath her. "You're a metis. Steven 
  said that metis came from the breaking of the first law. But it, um, didn't 
  seem like a good thing to pursue at the time."
Erik makes a vague, weak gesture. "Metis are always sterile, and always... 
  cursed... in some other way. Sometimes small, sometimes... this." Another 
  gesture, toward his face.
Christian remains silent all along their conversation.
"If you want to put your mask back on, go ahead." Jewel's voice is soft. "Why 
  are they cursed? Is it some weird genetic thing? Like, oh, interbreeding can 
  lead to hemophilia? Or two heads?"
Erik slips the mask back on with a motion that's well-practiced, the way 
  others might put on a shirt, or shoes. "There are lots of theories and at 
  least a dozen conflicting stories, but I don't think anybody really knows." 
  He hesitates. "Brian-rhya can probably give you the best answer."
Jewel's lips purse. "Yes, Erik. "
Erik retrives his hat and coat, pulling them back on along with his gloves. He 
  seems unwilling to stay now. "Unless you have any other questions, I must 
  return to patrol."
Jewel shakes her head. "G'night, Erik."
Christian nods to Erik, and to Jewel. "I'd better leave, too. Good night, 
  Erik. Good night, Jewel." With that, he walks out.
Erik slips out into the night and vanishes quickly back into the shadows of 
  the forest.