Coggie Elders, UL Stuff, a Rina Visit

[hazlogs]

It is currently 21:46 Pacific Time on Thu Dec 12 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 47
degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the north at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.73 and
rising, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 45
degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (56% full).

A breath of cold night air follows the Glass Walker into the farmhouse.
Salem clumps in, jaw tight as he tugs off his gloves.

Gary glances back at the door and says a polite, "Evening, sir," before
looking back to Alicia. "Cath said they were like co-Alphas of the Sept or
something."

Alicia nods her head. "Yes, the Male. Robert is the Arm of the Goddess of
this Sept. He is our highest ranking Child of Gaia, an Athro, which I
guess you can say, level four." She smiles, then glances over to her pack
mate. "Hey." She says, becoming all grins.

Salem gives Alicia a thin little smile, and his voice is less chilly than
usual when he greets her with a quiet, "Good evening. Doing a little
cub-teaching?" His gaze flicks briefly to Gary, and he gives the cub an
absent nod.

Gary says, baffled, "So who's the Voice?" He nods at Salem. "I think she
was looking for Cath, but she just left."

Alicia chuckles slightly with a shrug of her shoulders. "Kinda, he asked a
few questions about the tribe." Glancing to Gary again, she offers a grin.
"The Voice is Andrea, an Adren of our tribe."

Salem nods, heading briskly toward the hall closet, shrugging out of the
big black coat as he moves. "I've often wondered about that, Alicia," the
Walker remarks idly, over his shoulder. "Why _do_ the Children of Gaia
have two elders?"

Gary says, "Yeah, it like, feels wrong, sort of."

Alicia grins and glances over to Gary, tilting her head to one side. "Why
do you say that? Does a pack not have an Alpha, and a Beta?"

Salem returns, coatless, but remains standing. "Ah, but that isn't quite
the same. From what I've understood, the Arm and the Voice are considered
to be equals. Co-Elders. A pack's beta is _always_ submissive to the
alpha."

"Uh." Gary shrugs. "Yeah, but I thought the Beta was kind of subordinate
to the Alpha. With the Voice and Arm, aren't they theoretically coelders?"

Gary gives Salem a slightly nervous glance.

Salem eyes the Silver Fang cub, a frown tugging at the corners of his
mouth. He's very good at looking stern.

Gary quickly looks away.

Alicia smiles at the two and clears her throat. "You guys want the long
version?"

Gary immediately says, "Yes."

Salem shifts his gaze from Gary back to his packmate. He leans in the
doorway out of the living room and folds his arms across his chest,
attentive.

Alicia smiles. "Well, its kinda like this." She begins. "Tribal history
dictates that in the past, a long, long time ago, that Gaia herself, chose
two Garou of the Children of Gaia, to be her Voice, and her Arm. The two
are of equal station, yes. The Voice is one the Garou come to in seek of
advice, and the one to speak Gaia's will. That paticular Garou, most
likely a female, is the one that tells those in the pack or Sept, what to
do, to carry out Gaia's plans in her own words. The Arm, is the strength,
the one who gets it down when the Voice speaks. More along the lines of
the warrior, the guy who has to kick a few butts to get things running.
The one who does it for Her. So we have a Voice, the one who speaks for
Her, and the Arm, the one who does it for Her. And, there is a third, the
Heart of the Mother. The inspiration and inbetween of the Arm and the
Voice. One doesn't do it all, but doesn't say it all either, kind of has a
happy medium, and helps keep the balance of spirit and body."

Gary asks, "So who's the Heart, here?"

Salem's expression is difficult to read -- he's listening, certainly, but
what he thinks of this reasoning is impossible to say. "Hm."

Alicia shakes her head. "No one. Not many Septs have a Heart of the Mother
these days. I don't know why, tho', if possible, I suppose in a round
about way, I'm an unofficial candidate. I'd fall into that category, but I
do not have the rank to back up my name just yet, or actions."

Gary says, "Huh. 'Cause you do Galliard stuff well?"

Salem pushes off from the door frame and slips into the kitchen.

Alicia shrugs her shoulders. "Well, I'm kinda in the middle. I get shit
done, and I got a mouth on me." She chuckles slightly. "But, its not
something I'd actually just run around and claim. I suppose I could speak
to Andrea about it one day, see what she thinks and what I'd have to do to
earn it, but, well, unfortuantly I stepped down from my Fostern challenge
to deal with some personal matters and some Sept matters in the city. I
hope that doesn't look too bad on my Garou resume."

Gary says, very open about his ignorance, "Well, I haven't a clue. But I
bet just the fact that you tried is cool."

The front door to the farmhouse opens and closes and soon Tobin enters the
living room shortly thereafter. He looks tired and a little more pale than
usual, but otherwise seems in good spirits. He keeps coat closed closely
about him.

Alicia nods her head. "Well, it showed I had balls. But, I think in a few
more months I should be ready to try again." She smiles and glances over.
"Evening Tobin."

Gary says, "Yeah, exactly, guts." Then he brightens. "Tobin, sir, hi, how
goes?"

Tobin nods at Alicia and Gary, smiling weakly. "It goes well, Gary. Aubrey
and I had some success in our hunting tonight."

Alicia perks up a tad. "Oh? What happened?"

Gary perks up too. "Yeah?"

Tobin eases himself gingerly into one of the chairs across from the
others, keeping his hands stuff deeply into his coat pockets and his coat
wrapped closely around him.

"We found a pack of dogs, roaming the Bawn and killing animals," Tobin
says quietly. "They were Tainted, and I think that their wounds may have
caused Taint as well. Aubrey and I were able to deal with them in short
order, but it's lucky for us there were only four. Any more and we may
have been mobbed and had to retreat." He shifts, wincing a bit. "But as it
was, we were victorious. I cleansed the bodies and ourselves and we buried
their corpses." He gets a distant, puzzled look to him. "It was strange.
They had a strange sort of Taint on them that made you want to eat them
when they were dead. I think that was another way of them spreading the
Taint."

Alicia furrows her brows some. "Like an addiction?" She asks, point
blankly.

Gary listens avidly, though he doesn't say anything.

Tobin shakes his head at Alicia. "No, well, they smelled good, is all I
can say. They...looked appetizing." He shrugs, unable to explain it any
further. A subtle wince accompanies the shrug. "Once the Cleansing was
complete and the Taint was gone, that particular...charm, vanished as
well. I can only assume it was part of the Taint, so that if the dogs died
for any reason, something else would find them and become Tainted as
well."

Alicia nods her head slowly, then rolls her shoulders a bit. Suddenly, she
blinks. "Blood. Thats it..."

Gary looks thoughtful.

Alicia starts snapping her fingers quickly, obviously making her brain go
into overload. "I got it. I think I know what is going on."

Tobin leans his head back and closes his eyes, looking tired. "Blood,
flesh, spirit. Perhaps all three, but who can say now..." he trails off
and cracks one eye open to look at Alicia. The eyebrow for that eye raises
a bit.

Gary, who evidently had been thinking about something else, blinks at
Alicia.

"The pills. UL. Its all coming together. Out in the city, Synthesis has
been tracking these new pills being exported all through St. Claire's
through a rave called Neo Night. The pills are like a form of Extascy,
but, they are created by a primary compound, blood. The pills come off as
tainted, but only mildly so, its.. weird and hard to explain. Its like the
taint is there, but, on a different plane. Well, you hear about that
family that got killed? Guts ripped out and placed into bowls? All the
blood was /gone/, almost as if it was harvested. Well, there was a missing
girl in that family, a teenager. We found out she was the same girl who
was at that rave Jeremy and Ebony attended. During the rave, they flashed
a spotlight on her and welcomed her, told her it was -time-. Soon after,
family got killed, right? Ok, so, this is what I'm thinking. The pills are
an addiction, but not to the X, but to blood itself, a hunger, a vampirism
sort of way, my contact Nicodemus thinks it has something to do with
someone copying ancient Aztec rituals of blood eating, to appease the
Gods. Do you see? The kids take the pills, they develop a hunger for
blood. They in turn become.. programmed in some instinctual way to hunt it
down. That is what that girl did. When Renee and I killed her, she
sprouted four arms and was stronger then an OX. Another scenario was that
the cops recently put seventeen bullets into this kid before he went down,
a few of them headshots, but he wouldn't die. The pills themselves are
tainted, but masked. They are turning these people into Fomori, with a
hunger for blood. Now, the animals got a whiff of that too, its why they
are attacking the other animals. When you and Aubrey attacked and probably
got a taste of that blood, for a moment it took over your animal instincts
when you were in a more feral form, it tried to get ya to keep going, to
drink its blood. That girl must have drank the blood of her family." She
nods her head, then lets out a breath.

Tobin listens to Alicia, sitting up straighter she goes on with her
recounting. Both eyes are open and keenly attentive by the time she's
done. "But where are the animals getting it from? What's the connection
there?" he asks, the weariness in his tone replaced with a much more
businesslike manner.

"Who knows. Andrea's pack tracked one of the spirits who was watching the
pills or whatever to an old factory on Peppermill road. The umbra is
/surrounded/ by Eater of Souls, and when it was the New Moon, they decided
not to do anything about it. Going in there right now would kill us. I'm
thinking.. well.. its on a horrible part of town right? Those dogs were
most likely strays. Maybe they got into the dumpster an chewed on
something, filled with all that tainted shit?"

Alicia says, letting out a quick breath and tapping her throat.

Gary just absorbs all of this.

"And then they got all the way out to the Bawn?" Tobin asks without an
actual questioning tone. He leans back into the chair again. "I suppose
it's feasible, given enough time, for them to spread so far." His eyes
close again, almost of their own volition. "We should warn the Bone
Gnawers since they look after the strays. We should also make contact with
Reforged, since the trail the dogs we tracked left came from their
territory around Wolf Woods. Maybe have Nightfire-rhya or Rides-Fire-rhya
check on our wolf kin in the park." His tone is winding back down to its
tired state even as he comes up with plans.

Alicia nods her head. "That we should do, and also talk to a few
Ragabashes, see if we can get a scope out on the factory in the mundane
world, instead of spirit, see what we are up against. I have no doubt the
Wyrm is heavily involved. Whatever it is, has a lot of money and
resources. Not even the cops know about this. Nor have they made a
connection. These pills look like M&M's and motrin. A new pill has come
out, called ULUL. Its stronger, made up of more blood then anything else."

Tobin actually yawns now. "Where's Yi these days? Or Bernie? Valoran is
around now and then if you trust him to not flake off too much." He adds,
muttering, "And you can stand him."

Salem returns from the back of the house without a word, and again takes a
lean in the doorway, arms folded. His expression is pensive and
abstracted, solemn.

Alicia wets her lips some with a shrug. "I can stand him if he can get the
job done." She says, glancing over to Salem, wondering if he heard all of
what she said.

Tobin doesn't notice Salem come in and doesn't respond to Alicia. He may
have fallen asleep.

Salem gives Alicia a slight nod, then says, quietly, "Aztec rituals?"

Alicia dips her head in a bob. "Yah, Gothic cop thinks that someone is
trying to recreate it. Something about Fray Diego's concept of the Matrix
Codex"

The Walker's eyes narrow slightly. "Did he explain that, at all?"

Tobin speaks up suddenly, though he doesn't open his eyes. "Aztecs. They
were a blood-drenched culture if ever there was one. It's no wonder they
fell apart, cutting out everyone's hearts..." he trails off, neck going
slack and head drooping to one side as he actually falls asleep this time.
His relaxed state causes his arms to fall to his sides, though, opening
his coat and revealing quite a lot of blood on his nice white shirt.

"Mmm.. He did, but I didn't catch all of it. I don't think that is what we
are up against, at all." Alicia shifts her gaze to Tobin for a moment,
then back to Salem. "He isn't aware of cute things like the Wyrm an the
fact they eat guts just cuz' they are bored. I mean, for a human, it was a
good hypothesis."

Salem shifts a sidelong glance toward Tobin. "The Spaniards helped a great
deal, if I recall," he notes, blandly. Then he turns to Alicia. "Don't be
so certain. Some Wyrm entities live for a long time. There could be a
connection." He pauses a beat. "But I'm not an expert on Meso-American
history, so."

Gary eventually drifts off himself. He's had a full day.

Tobin shifts over, quite definitely asleep now in the chair. His jacket
shifts back over to hide the bloodstains. He starts snoring softly.

Alicia blinks and glances over as the two Fangs suddenly fall asleep, then
shifts her gaze over to Salem. "Now, that is weird." She notes with a
wrinkle in her brow. "Anyways, I haven't been sharing too much info with
Nick. He did tell me that a few cops shot the hell outta this guy, took
about seveteen bullets to put him down. Said he was ungodly fast an
strong."

The sound of a motorcycle engine might be distantly audible, outside the
farmhouse, somewhere off to the north.

Salem's mouth thins. "That's what Rhiannon told me. She was there." He
narrows his eyes, then straightens up, making his way toward one of the
armchairs; the sound of the motorcycle gives him pause; he cocks his head
a moment to listen, then looks at Alicia. "One thing we're trying to do is
keep from Nicodemus the connection between Rhiannon and ourselves. No need
to let him know she's family."

Alicia bobs her head at that. "Gotcha. I never even thought of Rhia' until
you mentioned it. Duh, she's in the force also." Wettening her lips some,
she furrows her brows a tad. "Whatcha think 'bout those tainted dogs? Tied
in with it?"

Salem rubs at the side of his neck. "Gaia only knows. But it's a long way
from the city to the bawn. It's a possibility that there's no connection
between the two."

The engine seems to draw closer, perhaps out somewhere on Sunrise Road.
Then it stops.

Alicia glances over to the door, then back towards Salem. "You think
perhaps they are connected with that tainted horse?"

Salem, looking thoughtful, moves over toward the door, opening it and
flicking on the porch light. "That, I doubt," he says to the Gaian, while
staring out into the darkness. "I doubt that strongly."

Rina pages: He catches sight of her, cutting across the field.

Alicia nods her head slowly with a frown on her face. "Mm... Well, I'll
see what I can find out in the city later tomorrow night. Maybe I can
follow the trail in the woods back to where it came from."

Rina pages: There goes Rina, across the field.
You paged Rina with 'Away from the house?'.
Rina pages: No, vaguely toward. She must have parked somewhere along the
road.

Salem nods absently, his attention still directed outwards. His chin lifts
slightly, and then his dour expression lightens, the tension in his
shoulders and back relaxing. "Company incoming," he tells his packmate.
His tone indicates that it's not the 'bad' kind of company.

"Rina out there?" Alicia asks, making her way to Salem's side and peering
out the door as well. "Oh yah.. I got married yesterday." She says in the
way of conversation.

Salem blinks, turning to look at the Gaian with no small surprise.
"Married? Tom, I presume?"

Alicia dips her head, then points out to the black and blue ninja parked
outside. "He got me that." She says with a grin. "Birthday, wedding,
christmas present, rolled up into one hot package."

"Congratulations." Salem's smile is faint, ghosting. "May you have many
long years together." His gaze strays back outward, toward the figure
heading in the vague direction toward the house.

Alicia nods her head at that. "I hope so." She says with a soft breath,
rubbing at the back of her neck. "Whats taking her?" She asks, peering out
into the dark.

Salem tilts his head. The smile's gone, but he's not frowning yet, not
quite. "Not sure," he murmurs, then steps out the door, heading out to
meet the kinswoman.

Alicia follows after him, sliding her hands into her pockets. "She
seemed.... stable, last night.. I hope she's ok."

Rina pages: She walks around the edge of the fields, and heads for the
barn-ish.

Salem walks quickly, long brisk strides in the chill night air. He calls
her name, once.

Rina rounds the corner of the barn, and looks toward the house. She stops,
seeing and hearing him in the same instant; both arms wrap around her
body, and she waits uncertainly between the barn and the porch.

Salem jogs a few steps as he closes the distance between them; his breath
puffs out visibly in the cold. "Heard your bike," he says, once he's
within speaking distance.

He's in his shirtsleeves, open flannel shirt over black t-shirt.

"Oh," she replies lamely, watching him come closer. Both hands shove into
her pockets. "You, um." She ducks her head, staring at the ground, her
brow furrowed. "You been aright?"

Salem lifts an eyebrow, looking bemused. He stands, hands also pocketed,
buried deep. "Fine. Not coming inside?"

Rina hitches a shoulder, and glances away. "I... I don't like it.
Surprised I could sleep there the other night." She rubs at the back of
her neck with a gloved hand.

Salem glances back over his shoulder at the house, then returns his gaze
to her, his expression rueful. "Ah. Yes." He grimaces faintly, then
shrugs. "Sometimes exhaustion can outweigh... everything else. Where are
you headed, then?"

"Idunno," she murmurs, one corner of her mouth tugging upward slightly. "I
was just gonna look for you. Take a walk." She puts both hands out,
regarding him uneasily. "I can go, if... if y'busy."

Salem's brows furrow, his expression still bemused and tilting toward
concern. "I'm not. Busy, that is. If you can wait a moment, I'll get my
coat and come join you."

Rina nods. "I'll be at the end of the road," she says softly.

"I'll be right back," he promises, and lopes back toward the house. He's
as good as his word; she doesn't have to wait long until he's returning,
wearing the coat and tugging on his gloves.

Rina leans against a fencepost at the end of the lane, waiting for him,
her head tipped back to watch the fog-shrouded moon.

Salem glances up, following her gaze as he nears her. "Philodox moon," he
notes, then tilts his gaze down at her. "How are you feeling?"

She swallows, and looks over to him with an awkward half-smile. "Itchy,"
she murmurs. "Other than that, Idunno."

Salem arches an eyebrow, the right. "Itchy?"

Rina ducks her head, then, looking decidedly awkward. "From the cutting,"
she mutters.

Salem opens his mouth, then closes it. He takes a deep breath. "...Ah.
Right." Though he isn't exactly happy about it, he doesn't display any
anger, either. Instead, he nods his head in the direction of the woods.
"Care for a walk, then?"

She answers with a quiet nod. "Yeah," she murmurs quietly, straightening
from her slouch and heading in that direction.

Salem falls into step with her, hands buried in his coat pockets. He's
quiet for a time, then remarks, "Alicia finally went and married Tom,
apparantly."

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Yeah, I heard. Nineteen." She gives a rueful shake
of her head. "What I'd give t'be nineteen."

Salem snorts. "I remember being an arrogant little shit with delusions of
grandeur. No, thank you."

Rina ducks her head, choppy hair hiding a faint smile. "I remember bein'
happy. When I first came here. For a little while. I remember Scott
sockin' me with a good left hook, 'cause I talked back to him... that was
when I got over my crush on /him/, snobby Fang fascist that he was."

Salem gives her a sidelong look, brow rising. "Scott Van... Traylin, or
something? I remember him, vaguely." He wrinkles his nose. "He hit you for
talking back? I'm not surprised. I heard that he had one of his own
kinfolk killed because the man wouldn't obey his orders slavishly."

Rina lifts a shoulder. "Yeah, well. I got no room to talk, really." She
slants the dark eyes over to him, narrowing them slightly. "Reminds me. I
oughta swear you in, I guess. Nobody else to do it."

He looks at her curiously. "Hmm?"

She returns the dark gaze to the ground in front of her. "Make the whole
cosa nostra thing formal, if you want. Not that we really need to."

Salem's shoulders lift, then fall. "Perhaps not, but I've no objection to
a little formality." He gives her a slight, crooked little half-smile.

Glancing over just in time to catch it, she answers with an echo of her
own. "I'll think about it. There's not that many of us... but we got a few
people on the street we could make."

Salem's good eye takes on a strange glitter in the fog-dimmed moonlight,
somewhat feral, and not unhappily so. "...And organize a little, mn,
cleanup after the first of the year, hmm?"

One corner of Rina's mouth quirks upward slightly, and she ducks her head
again. "Yeah," she murmurs.

"New year, clean slate," Salem murmurs, walking. He lapses into silence,
the smile fading, his manner turning pensive. He gives her a little
sidelong glance, very briefly.

Rina rubs at the back of her neck with one gloved hand. She doesn't talk
for a while--just makes her way into the woods, along the border of trees
and field. Her cleated boots leave heavy imprints in the mud.

Salem keeps step at her side, like a Doberman at heel. As the silence
stretches on, she gets the sense that there's something on his mind, but
he's either unwilling to bring it up or uncertain how to.

One angel doesn't fear to tread here. Always one to push her way past the
obstacles, she just takes the next step forward. "Whatever it is, Jack,"
she says softly, "you can tell me." She almost smiles, wistful and soft,
her eyes on the ground ahead of her.

Salem glances at her again, then stares ahead. He clears his throat
slightly. "Well, it's... delicate." He's silent for a beat, then simply
forges ahead. "The other day, I was at the farmhouse, listening to some of
the, ah, regulars. And one of the Furies, Laura in fact, the one who's
done some Umbral work with Cat since he's been here, mentioned learning a,
mm, healing ritual. One that's... particular to her tribe."

Rina glances over to him, her steps cautious and quiet. She is on his
right, in step with him. She tends to place herself on the not-blind side.

Salem clears his throat again, looking rather awkward. "...Yes. Anyhow,
you, ah... don't have to be barren. If you don't wish to be." Yes,
_definitely_ awkward, and he continues on rather quickly. "I didn't learn
about it until, well, _after_, and it is, of course, entirely up to you,
if you, ah..." His gaze flicks sideways and down again, toward her face.

Rina stops in her tracks, when he says that word. Barren. Like a field
that's been salted. She looks over to him, apprehensive. A moment later
there is a shimmer in her eyes, and she quickly averts them.

Salem stops when she does and looks away quickly. Taking a breath, he
stares out at fog-shrouded shadows, his posture straight, composed. "If
you want that kind of healing," he finishes, quietly. "The option is
there. I thought you should know."

Rina blinks several times. "It-- it doesn't really matter, anymore," she
whispers. She swallows once, and takes a careful breath. "But-- it's a
good thing to know."

Salem nods stiffly, a flicker of guilt passing across his face; he doesn't
look at her.

Rina presses her lips together for a moment. Long enough, apparently, for
her to fight back the threat of tears. "I told you about--Angelina,
right?" she asks hoarsely. "It was almost-- almost exactly the same. I
don't even think Angelo ever knew Jenny was pregnant, before he -- before
he died." Another swallow, and she glances over to him, the taut attempt
at a smile passing unseen; then she is walking again. "Doesn't matter
anyway. There's Drew's. History repeats itself."

"I know," he says. "I remember you, ah, you telling me." He pushes his
hands deeper into his pockets, muscles tightening in his jaw. After a few
heartbeats, he says, "I'm sorry."

Rina shakes her head quickly, not looking at him. "You don't have anything
t'be sorry for." She darts a glance over to him, tear-shrouded and
intense, and then she ducks her head again and keeps walking. "He never
understood how I could love Jenny. How I could still love other people,
and still love him. Din't understand it until it happened." She is talking
fast, now, trying to use the words to push everything away, or make it
somehow controlled. "I was half in love with her too. Drew. I would've-- I
think I threw myself at her once, before-- before John came along, but I
wised up and so did she, 'cause of that damn Get. Knew it'd be the death
of anyone who laid a hand on her--" She draws an uneven breath, and lets
it out. Her hands are jammed firmly into her pockets now, her head bowed.
"Christ. I've got /him/ to deal with, now. New York. I gotta remember to
call New York." A fell, grim laughter comes then, death chuckling at some
black joke. "Maybe I'll go, to bait the hook. But he doesn't want me. He
wants /her/."

Salem listens with characteristic grave attentiveness, nodding slowly.
"You mean her ex-husband. Glass Walker, isn't he?" He grimaces as he says
it, nose wrinkling.

Rina's jaw clenches so hard he might hear her teeth grind, briefly. "No,"
she grates out, her voice dry and inhuman with hate.

Salem's brow furrows, his frown deepening a moment, and then moves his
shoulders in a brief shrug. "Good."

Rina gives a swift, involuntary shudder. "I gotta talk to Chicago," she
says quietly. "Find someone to take care of that. Shoulda been done a long
time ago."

Salem grunts. "I know that feeling." He lapses into silence again,
brooding.

A long, brooding silence follows, broken only by the sounds of boots
crunching through mud. From time to time she glances over, the briefest
look as if to gauge his mood, or perhaps just to reassure herself he is
still there.

He's there. Like there's no where else he could be. His temper simmers
low, a dull burn. "Next year will be better," he says finally, as much to
himself as to her. His voice is flat, its timbre more stubborn than
honestly optimistic.

Rina shakes her head minutely, and glances over to him; the pale, wistful
expression can't quite be called a smile. "You and I both know that's
bullshit," she says softly. "It doesn't get better from here. Just worse."
She ducks her head. "He knew, too. Just wanted to snatch up whatever
happiness he could, before the end. That's what you hafta do."

Salem exhales a sighing, weary breath, his expression dark. "I suppose so,
yes." The brooding air lingers, as tangible as the rage muttering under
his flesh.

"Jack--" She turns as if to confront him with something, almost--but then
she only looks at him with those red-rimmed eyes, a terrible sympathy
written there. Something wary, too, something that does not want to be
caught, trapped by the rage and the moon. "You want I should go?" she asks
hoarsely.

Salem shakes his head; he doesn't have to think about it. "I'm fine.
Really."

Rina pauses, turning to look at him, her brow furrowing a little. "Did I
mention thank you?"

Salem shifts a sidelong glance at her, then stops, looking back, his brows
lowered. "Hmm?"

She presses her lips together for a moment, holding back emotion; then she
ducks her head, lowers those unsettling eyes. "I'm not really used
to--having friends. It's been a long time since-- since someone--" She
swallows, and looks up to his face, to the one eye that sees. "Thanks. For
all of it."

A wan little smile flickers briefly on his lips, and he dips his head
slightly. "Likewise. It's... not easy, I know."

Rina nods. "You don't-- ask anything," she says quietly. "It makes
everything easier. That you understand, and you don't-- ask anything of
me." Her gaze remains steady, though her lashes are wet with tears.

Salem's right eyebrow lifts, and the faint smile turns crookedly wry, but
the solemnity doesn't quite leave his eyes. "Yes, well." He looks past
her, then upwards, to the dark branches above them and the clouds beyond
that.

Like a child, she surprises him with a swift step; one moment he is
watching the sky, and then the next she thuds against his chest to hug
him. Fierce and chaste at once, the embrace has too much raw emotional
need in it to leave room for anything untoward.

Salem stiffens up for a moment, a startled. "Er?" escaping him. Then,
recovering, he puts his arms around her and returns the hug -- but not
quite so tight, nor as so fierce. He's being careful again, wary of her,
wary of himself.

Rina holds tight for a moment, and then relaxes a little--staying a few
seconds, to take in the simple human comfort of being held. "Thanks," she
whispers. "For-- for everything."

His fingers slide through her hair, combing back the lengthening strands
His coat still smells of cigarettes, but faintly; he's been smoking less.
"You're welcome," he answers, quietly.

"I don't want to do any of it, y'know," she whispers. "All that shit that
needs doin'.

A swallow, and she is quiet for the space of a breath. "I don't--want to
be alive," she says in a hollow voice. "Without him. I don't want to wake
up, ever again, with the empty space inside... and every time I wake up,
it's there."

He doesn't answer right away; he continues stroking her hair slowly. "I
know," he says at last. "I know."

Something breaks in her, as it has before. There is no one but him to see,
as her shoulders jerk. That choked, painful sound comes from her throat,
and she sobs quietly against him, ducking her head.

Salem's arms tighten around her, holding her close against him. He makes
some quiet noise, a low 'shhh' like one would make to a weeping child;
it's a sound of reassurance rather than a request for quiet. He's the only
witness to her breaking, and he's there and -- as she pointed out before
-- he asks nothing more.

He holds her until the storm passes, and then for a while afterward; he
holds her until she decides to pull away.

Rina cries for a long time, and even after the tears quiet down she stays
close--drawing strength from him for a few moments longer. Then,
hesitantly, she straightens up and takes a few deep breaths. One hand
comes up to wipe tears from her cheeks.

Salem looks down at her, tall and solemn, his good eye searching her face.
"It's getting late," he murmurs.

Rina nods minutely, the reddened eyes meeting his. "Yeah, I..." She
swallows, then, mustering her voice as she looks away. "I'll see you...
maybe next week sometime. See if I can visit Cat."

"Take care of yourself," he says softly. A hand comes up, brushes lightly
at her hair again, barely touching the dark strands. "That's all I ask.
Take care of yourself."

The dark eyes meet his for an instant, tainted with guilt. "I'll try," she
promises. "It's-- it was bad, tonight. Today." Another swallow. "But I'll
try harder."

The hand that barely touched her hair now comes up to brush back his,
those few bits that have escaped the ponytail. "We all have bad days." He
offers her his arm. "I'll walk you back to the bike, if that's all right."

Rina nods minutely, lowering her eyes. "If you want." She touches a hand
to the proffered arm, and then that hand drops away--a gesture of
appreciation, without taking the chance to lean on him. With brisk steps,
her head lifted, she starts across the field toward Sunrise Road.

Salem escorts the kinswoman back to the motorcycle. Before she rides off,
he says, "Call if you need anything." And then, with a faint upward quirk
of the mouth, he adds, "Call if you don't."

Rina touches a gloved hand to his, clasping it briefly. "Say hi to Cat for
me," she says quietly. "I'll come see you both sometime." Then it happens:
a slow, sad but genuine smile, her expression softening despite the traces
of tears.

Salem returns it, slight but sure, his hand squeezing hers briefly before
he lets go. "We'll be looking forward to it."

She swings a leg over the Ducati, giving him a faint half-smile before
sliding on the shades and starting the bike. Without saying anything else,
she flips a sharp turn and speeds north toward the highway.