"I told him that I planned to claim the alphaship."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 22:12 Pacific Time on Tue Jul 8 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 63 degrees Fahrenheit (17 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northwest at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.11 and rising, and the relative humidity is 67 percent. The dewpoint is 52 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (64% full).

Studio

The studio is airy, elegantly modern and full of light: a large, high-ceilinged square room with almost an entire wall of windows. It still smells of paint, though there is no evidence of current painting. Rolled canvases lean in one of the corners, and a few finished pieces adorn the walls. A six-foot length of pipe hangs a painting behind the couch, creating a slightly more personal space that evidently serves as a bedroom; the piece is a dark, strange cityscape, an oddly skewed view of the world beyond the glass seen through otherworldly eyes. The edge of a futon can be seen beyond it; the walls around the bed bear swirling patterns of colors, calming shades of undersea blue and green. These patterns gradually soften as they grow out into the rest of the room, where walls are visible; angles replace curves, until the mural becomes a mix of ocean and circuitry. The sofa is quirky and curving, a work of modern art upholstered in green velvet. A Turkish rug in vibrant tribal colors occupies much of the hardwood floor; the coffee table, a sculpture of recycled blue and green circuit-board and shiny aluminum, rests on it in front of the couch.

Opposite the windows, a compact kitchen is marked off by a crisp stainless steel counter. The west wall nearby has doors to a closet and to a small, sparsely-appointed bathroom. The east wall holds bookshelves of pale wood, supporting a small stereo, collections of pictures and found objects, and a good number of books; the corner between shelving and the wall of windows holds a plain wooden desk with a slim notebook computer and phone atop it, and an elegant mesh rolling chair.

Salem's knock comes lightly on her door.

Cat is asleep, curled up under the bed. Quiet classical music is playing: Bach fugues, enough to tangle the mind into dreaming. Rina dozes on the couch, a book fallen from her hands; the knock makes her snap awake, squinting against the bright light.

The knock comes again, soft... rather hesitant, in fact.

It takes a moment for her to answer the door; her voice is quiet. "Who -- who is it?"

"It's Jack," comes the reply from the other side of the door.

Rina opens it, to let him into the dim apartment; one lamp is on, by the couch, spilling light over a throw pillow and the book on the floor. She is pale, her eyes shadowed and bruised-looking from lack of sleep. Her brow furrows a little, concern touching the bleary expression. "Somethin' up?"

Salem starts to shake his head as he walks in, then aborts the gesture, looking wry. "A hell of a fucking lot, really. But nothing urgent. I just, ah, wanted to talk." He glances around the apartment. "Cat out on sleepover?"

Rina shakes her head minutely, and glances over her shoulder toward the bedroom. "No," she murmurs, "he's here. Probably listenin' if he's not asleep."

Salem's gaze follows hers. "Little pitchers." He glances back at her, his expression closed. "Maybe I should come back another time."

Rina gives a tiny shake of her head. "You don't have to," she whispers, leaning on the door's edge.

As reluctant as he seems, it's clear that he doesn't really want to leave, and it becomes more obvious when he settles onto the couch, trenchcoat and all. "God," he mutters. "Gaia. Whatever." He looks over at her. "I talked to Robert last night."

Rina closes the door behind her, and leans back against it. "Yeah?" She watches him carefully, with those dark eyes. "You um. Want somethin'a drink?"

Salem thinks about that for a moment, rubbing his bearded chin. "Yes," he says deliberately. "Yes, I would." He leans back, stretching long legs out in front of him. "Talked to him about my challenge... and was half-expecting that he'd annul it, what with Susan and Nightfire gone. But no, it's still going through. Then I asked him about his plans regarding Sept leadership."

She watches him carefully, as she paces to the kitchen and starts a pot of decaf coffee.

"I told him," Salem says quietly, his gaze resting on the bookshelves, "that I planned to claim the alphaship."

The water stops abruptly, and there is a pronounced silence from the kitchen.

Salem nods, taking the silence as reply. "He didn't object. All he said was that a Cliath or new Fostern as Alpha was likely to draw in ambitious Adren. Which it may well do. But, until then, the Sept needs a leader." He sits up, then, running a hand back along his head and tugging out the elastic holding his hair back. "Jesus."

She comes to the kitchen's edge, staring at him with anxious, terrible eyes. Frightened. A swallow tightens her throat. "What--"

Salem looks up with the elastic in his hand, staring back at her solemnly and with just a trace of what-the-fuck-did-i-get-myself-into. "Next moot, at the Cracking, I'm going to stand up and claim the alphaship of the Sept."

He has not seen terror in her eyes often. It's almost startling, that look. It takes some time for her to speak, and when she does, her voice breaks. "What--" Another swallow. "What if--"

Salem's brow furrows. "What if what?"

Rina swallows. "What if-- something happens?" she whispers. "If you get hurt?-- someone could challenge you, kill you--" Her eyes are lowered, her hands wringing at each other.

Salem's mouth thins. "If I'm challenged, and I lose, I'll show throat and that'll be it. I have no intention on throwing my life away to keep the position. But there's nobody else."

Rina takes a careful breath. "Yeah," she murmurs, lowering her eyes. "Sorry. I um. Don't know where that-- came from."

Salem rubs at the side of his neck. "You've lost people before," he remarks, almost absently. "The anxiety's understandable. But I don't think you have anything to worry about."

There is a light knocking on the door from outside.

Rina rubs at the back of her neck with one hand. "I'll get that," she murmurs. She paces to the door, mussing her hair with one hand. "Who's there?" she asks quietly."

Salem remains seated on the couch, still wearing his coat. Somewhat distractly, he watches Rina and drags his fingers through his hair, roughly getting rid of some of its ponytail-induced tangles.

".. its me.. Jer'." The soft voice murmurs from behind the door.

Rina takes a deep breath, and opens the door. She is pale, her eyes shadowed from lack of sleep--but she musters a slight smile. "Hey..." Stepping out, she gives him a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay."

Salem's eyebrows rise. "Surprised he's out and about," he murmurs, just before Rina opens the door. As she greets the gothkin, he pushes to his feet and reties his hair into the ponytail. "Feeling better, Jeremy?"

".. Yah. I guess." Jeremy says, giving Rina a quick hug back, sighing loudly in his throat. "Kinda just needed to get out an go for a drive... passed out a few times from not eating and so I guess I felt it better to down something and just relax." He rubs his neck a bit, raking nails through his hair. "Er.. how... is everything?"

Rina tips her head, motioning him inside.

Jeremy steps inside, ducking his head down a bit and drawing his coat about him a bit tighter.

Closing the door, Rina leans back against it again. "There's coffee on, if you want some," she says quietly.

"Leonard's run off and is in hiding," Salem reports, hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. "Presumably until the Moot. I've talked to Luke and word should be spreading about what he did." He eyes Jeremy significantly, then glances at Rina as well. "He'll be Judged. Not by me, of course. I can't claim to be neutral." He also can't claim to like the arrangement much; his expression is grim.

Shaking his head a bit to the offer of coffee, Jeremy gives a polite smile to Rina. As he listens to Salem, he rolls his shoulders a bit, stiffening up at the sound of Leo's name. ".. I.. never told you exactly what happened." He explains softly.

Rina's expression tightens visibly.

"So," the Kin says curtly. "Tell." Her anger is clear, as she steps into the kitchen to pour for both of them.

"I made a few guesses," the Elder says, tilting his head to fix his good eye on Jeremy; he studies the kinfolk critically, judging his health. Then he gestures for Jeremy to go ahead and speak.

"Well..." Jeremy says softly. "It was late at night and I was coming home from inventory at work.. and I saw him walking along the side of the road all beat up.. so.. I asked if he needed a ride somewhere.. an.. he told me yes.. the farmhouse. An he was real quiet an shit." He murmurs. "Dunno why... but.. when we got there, he asked me to take a peek at something outside. An I had to go.. but... I got out anyways an stuff cuz' well... I dunno.. I.. just thought that I was his friend... or something an I trusted 'em." He winces as he settles down, features crumbling a bit. "So.. he pointed at some trees an told me to look at the stars.. an.. when I did, he slugged me from behind. Well.. he didn't get a good shot in. I stumbled forward an turned around, just so that he can punch at me again. I blocked it, twisted his arm around and gave him a good solid kick in the ribs. After a bit of this.. he got pissed that he couldn't hit me." He gives an awkward smile. "... Tom is teaching me kickboxing an all.. so.. he went Crinos an grabbed me by the face an then slammed me nose first into the ground.. er..." He rubs his neck harder, breathing in a raspy tone as he recalls this. ".. I.. I woke up in my underware in a dark dirty place surrounded by bloody.. things.. I think it was clothes.... an.. that was it. He rambled on an on about Sarah for a bit.. an then just.. I dunno.. I couldn't concentrate well, I kept blacking out."

Salem's jaw gets tight, nostrils flaring as he listens. He resists pacing, however, and keeps a tight rein on his temper.

Rina's jaw tightens. "I'll fucking kill him," she mutters. "Silver 50 to the head. Sonofabitch. Cap his ass."

Jeremy shrugs his shoulders. "He asked me if I was a warrior.. I.. I started to cry down there.. an he got pissed that I wasn't strong enough to deal with it." His eyes lift upwards slowly to regard the two. ".. I've been locked up by Garou before.. its just.. real scary. Its not a good feeling.. I came here to get away from it."

Rina comes out with two cups in hand and a baleful fury in her eyes. "Well, it's not gonna happen again," she says tightly. "Not if we have anything t'say about it. No fuckin' mulignan is gonna mess with any of ours."

Salem's gaze shifts to Rina, and his expression has a touch of calculation in it. "You'll have to get in line." Shifting his weight, he explains, mostly to Jeremy, "This has, as has been pointed out to me, become a Sept matter. Between his threats to murder Sepdet, his abuse of his own kin along with his actions toward you, and everything else... Leonard will be judged. And he will _not_ come out of this unscathed. I mean to see him dead."

Jeremy nods his head slowly as he wraps his fingers around the back of his neck, slouching over a bit as he lets out a sigh. "I'm trying my best not to freak out around Garou right now. Its just.. I dunno.. I trust my family.. I really do. I'm just having anxiety attacks."

Rina walks across to the couch and gives Salem his drink, then sits down beside him. "You need a place to stay, Jer, I can find somethin'."

Salem swallows some of the hot coffee and remains standing.

Jeremy shakes his head. "Its ok. I got my apartment with Ebon. Um.. I've added a few more security measures as it is just in case.. camera's on the roof, hallway, and fire escape now."

"If you're sure," Salem says flatly; he's pretending calm very well now, but is still tight as a drum underneath.

Rina nods. "You gonna be okay?" The dark eyes watch him carefully, studying.

Jeremy nods his head and pats his jacket down. "Took your advice.. got myself a new toy." He says quietly.

Salem nods, takes another deep swallow of his drink, then prowls over toward the kitchen and sets the cup down on the counter. "Going to take a turn around the neighborhood, I think."

Rina nods curtly. "Good." She sips at her coffee, her eyes following Salem's progress. "Stop back in after, aright Jack?"

Jeremy shifts his eyes over towards Salem and wriggles his fingers a bit. "Be careful." He says softly.

Salem snorts. "I will, and no worries." He dips his head to the both of them, then heads out.

-------------------------------------

Salem returns after an hour or so, having walked off most of his irritability. He knocks quietly, wary of waking Cat.

Rina answers the door a bit more quickly this time, letting him in and offering a wan smile. "Hey. All's quiet on the western front?"

"No rabid redskins lurking about, no," Salem replies, with sharp-edged humor. He prowls into the studio. "Jeremy go home, I take it?"

Rina bolts the door. It still hasn't been replaced. "Yeah. I made a fresh pot if y' want some."

Salem shakes his head. "I think I'm wired enough." Near the couch, he turns and eyes the door, then her. "I never did ask what happened, with that."

Rina averts her eyes, and takes her own cup from the coffee table to the kitchen. "It's decaf," she murmurs. "Still don't want any?" She tops off her own cup.

Salem raises an eyebrow and follows her with his gaze, curious. "Decaf? Fine, then. What happened to your door?" He moves to join her in the kitchen.

She makes herself busy rinsing out the same cup he used before, and then pouring. "Someone kicked it in. I was dreaming. They said. I forget who... I think it was Beth."

Salem leans against the counter, not far, still wearing his coat. For once, he doesn't smell like cigarettes, at least not of any _recent_ smoking. "James' fiance?"

Turning, she offers out the mug to him. "Yeah. She's a friend. Weirdly enough." A dark eyebrow tugs upward, and she gives that wry twist of a smile. "Take off y'coat, stay awhile."

"Oh, right." He sets the mug down, shrugs out of the light summer trench, then reclaims his cup and carries both back over toward the couch. He takes a sip as he walks, then makes a quietly appreciative 'mm' noise.

Rina follows him over, sinking down to sit beside him--close, but not too close. "I keep goin' over it in my head, whether I oughta ask Doctor Ortolani for somethin'--you know, t'make me sleep." A strange, unhinged-pained smile comes to her face. "But I don't want to. It's the only time I see him. Even if half the time it's unbearable, there's the other half..."

Salem cocks his head, looking at her in that grave, solemn way of his. Warily curious, he asks, "The other half?"

Rina swallows, and her brow furrows--grief twisting across her face like a familiar wraith, a well-known shadow. She sets down her cup on the coffee table, and her eyes remain there as she nods. "Sometimes--" Her voice is barely a whisper. "Sometimes we just talk. He just comes to me, or I find him, and ... sometimes there's hardly anything wrong, and we can just--be together, for a while. Or he tells me things." A wistful smile tugs one corner of her mouth upward. "And it's like that dream in Braveheart, you know, and I don't want to wake up, 'cause I don't want him to go. Sometimes he-- gets pulled away, and that's what wakes me... or I lose the dream into somethin' else."

Salem doesn't look especially comforted by her words. He gazes down at his coffee mug and takes a sip from it, the corners of his mouth curved downwards. "Ah."

"Dangerous," she whispers, her gaze distant, unfocused. "I know. Because it's not far from there to wanting to die. Wanting the cold to take me."

"Did you have dreams like this after Angelo died?" Salem asks. He lifts his eyes to look at her again.

Rina swallows, and gives a tiny shake of her head. "No." She takes a careful breath. "I wasn't so... obsessed. I wasn't alone, either... I had Jenny, and we were together, and... it helped a lot, that I had to take care of her. When she was pr--" Her head snaps, up, then, and she looks over to him, sudden sharp worry in her eyes. "Have you seen Drew? Is anyone keepin' an eye on her?" Remorse comes in a flood, as her gaze slips away from him again. "Jesus I didn't even--"

"It's all right," Salem says. He grimaces faintly and swallows another mouthful of coffee. "I've been keeping tabs on her, but... it's fairly clear that Garou are not something she wants to see right now." Another swallow, and then he looks at her again. "It was a boy. Black hair. Blue eyes." One shoulder lifts and falls. "The eyes, of course, might change."

A flush darkens Rina's cheeks, and she looks away uncomfortably. No color, this summer; after months of isolation, her skin is a lighter olive than usual. "I should--probably at least send her something, Idunno, money or a gift or--" She swallows thickly. "Even if she doesn't--I mean I'm sure she doesn't wanna see me or anything, but she prolly needs money."

"Probably," Salem says quietly. He sips again, then leans over to set the mug down on the coffee table. He doesn't say anything for a moment or two after this, as though at something of a loss, just sits there with his elbows on his knees, studying his hands.

After a time, he might feel some sense of her scrutiny, the dark eyes watching him. A silence passes, and then she finally says, quietly, "You'll be careful, yeah?"

Salem tilts his head to return her gaze, a stray lock of hair hanging over his bad eye. One corner of his mouth twitches subtly upwards. "I'll be careful."

Rina reaches over to brush it away, a caretaking gesture made without thought. "'K," she says quietly.

Salem blinks when she does that, a twitch of reflex. He sits up and pushes it back himself, though having escaped the hair elastic it seems loathe to be put away. "Trust me," he says, tucking it behind his ear, "I have no desire to die."

"Unlike some of us with our passive death wish," she murmurs wryly. His shift in posture makes him vulnerable to attack, and she scoots closer to nestle into his shoulder, insinuating herself there like a child and hugging him without the least worry or self-consciousness. "You just make sure y'careful," she mutters again, darkly.

He tenses for the briefest moment, then makes a little 'heh' noise and ruffles her hair. "Yes'm. One piece, as ordered."

"I know," she murmurs. "We don't get anything else. But this is enough." Unlike her, to put it into words so openly and concisely. She leans her head against the crook of his shoulder. "I dn'o what I'd do, without a friend," she says quietly. "If I din't have you and Cat. Probably would've gone after him."

Salem's fingers run through her hair, back and forth, lightly scratching at her scalp. It's a far cry from the stiff, tense formality of months ago. "It's... bad to be alone," he says. "I know. I'm glad that I, we, could be your... anchor."

Rina swallows. "I--" Her voice is hesitant, thick, suddenly touched with hoarseness. "I know I-- made things worse," she says quietly. "Sometimes. And I'm sorry, and I-- I'm it's not like that anymore. I'm glad you're-- we're okay. And I d'no why you are--" She swallows, then, ducking her head slightly against his shoulder. "But I'm glad y'still my friend. Maybe the only one I got, right now, for real."

Salem doesn't answer right away, and with her head ducked down, she misses the flicker of guilt that passes across his face. It's gone when he speaks again. "Do you know how glad I was when I came back into town and found you still here? You were just about the only member of the family that I knew from here from... before."

Her laughter doesn't sound anything like it should--a dry sound, the laugh of someone on the edge of tears. But it is still a laugh, and that is a small triumph. "Yeah, but you hated me before. I still remember you tryin'a talk me into suicide. First time we met, I think. Hell of a first impression y'made."

Salem sighs. "Yes, well, I was a lot... angrier, in those days. And that night was stressed about meeting the Malone and the other Walkers and wondering what the hell I was going to do if I didn't get accepted by them. Had no idea you were kin of the tribe." He shakes his head, neatly-trimmed fingernails still working through her hair. "No excuse, of course... and just my luck, really. Like the time Sally decided to snowball me and I ended up swearing at this Irish twit who intervened... who turned out to be the Sept Alpha."

Rina laughs a little, the sound lighter than before. "Yeah, well, he /could/ be a twit. And I'm glad y'din't turn out to be a serial killer." She rests there easily, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

Salem smiles faintly. "I did rather give off that vibe, didn't I?" He shifts his position a little, though not enough to disturb her, and leans his head back against the couch. "The bad old days," he continues, looking at the ceiling. "Though, in some ways, a hell of a lot easier."

Rina takes a breath, and lets it out in a faint sigh. "Yeah. For you... I bet. You're all Mr. Responsible now. Hell. So am I, in some ways." She glances up, a hand reaching to stroke back his dark hair, tucking stray bits into the rest of it. "Used to be, maybe. When I had my shit together..." Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she closes her eyes again. "Don't know when I lost track."

"It'll come back," he says quietly. When she lets Him go -- but he keeps that unsaid. It's not the place, not the time. "And anyway, you seemed quite together when we went off to rescue Jeremy."

"It comes and goes," she whispers, closing her eyes against the welling of tears. "Mostly it just goes."

Salem doesn't answer that in words; he encircles her with his arm, squeezes gently, and then just holds her close for a bit. Then, eventually, he murmurs, "You want me to stay, tonight?"

"Can if you want," she answers quietly. "But you'll sleep better at home. And you need to." Taking a careful breath, she hugs tight and then lets him go, sitting up enough to look at him, the dark eyes sober as a child's. "I'll be aright. As much as I ever am, anyway."

Salem tilts his head slightly, studying her face for a moment before nodding. "Drag Cat out from under the bed. He's a lot more teddybear than I am anyway." With a slight, crooked little smile, he gets up and reaches for his coat.

Rina's smile tugs upward at one corner, and she leans forward to pick up her cup, then stands. A sip, and a swallow, and then she glances to him with a glint of humor in her eyes. "You're just fine, f'that," she says quietly. "Just in more the strong protective guard-dog kinda way than the adorable cub kinda way." That smile, however faint, is genuine, and it brings a softness to the tired eyes that he hasn't seen there in some time. For once, the pall doesn't hang over her expression, and the ghost doesn't lurk behind her eyes.

Salem returns it, flashing his teeth in a brief rogue's grin. "Big dumb animal. Yes, I'm rather good at that." The self-deprecating humor comes easily. "It's almost relaxing," he adds as he shrugs into his coat.

The smile tugs up at one corner again, becoming that wry, crooked expression so common to her in the old days. "I'd never call you /that/," she says quietly A sip of her coffee, and then she adds, "Thanks for comin' back."

"You're welcome." His coat donned, he regards her for a moment, looking serious. Then he gives her the crooked half-smile again. "Go get some sleep. Elder's orders."

"Ebbene, Don Giacomo," she says with a faint smile. "I'll try." She walks him to the door, then, lingering at its edge to watch him go.

Salem smiles at her again, and then he's gone, down the stairs and back into the streets.