"I won't bite, Lyra. And I don't think Jean will, either."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:00 Pacific Time on Mon Nov 24 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (5% full).

Harbor Park -- Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.
The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.
Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.


Salem sits on one of the benches near the fountain, watching as night falls over the park and it empties out. He's half-slouched, arms folded across his chest, the hood of his sweatshirt up, the lines of his face drawn and pensive.

Jean's arrival is a quiet one, even though she drives up in the parking lot in a car. With as cold as it is, her breath mists the air as she walks the paths of the green, bundled up in a heavy winter coat and a stocking cap, hands stuffed into pockets. She begins to give Salem a wide-berth, a strange man in the park at night, then something about him pings recognition. Her walks slows, and she backtraces around the fountain, to approach him gingerly. "Mr. Salem?"

A girl of late teen years, she is slightly above average in height, willowy stature accentuated by a slenderness of body and limbs which give the impression of fragility. Her hair is a russet red at odds with dark eyebrows, suggesting a dye job, but is the most noticable attribute, falling loose to her shoulders in flattering layers and thick cut bangs. Her eyes are also dark, a rich brown, and her complexion just hinted with tan. Her features are strongly defined, a prominant blade of nose, sharp cheekbones, an angular jawline ending in a pointed chin. A smile seems to be always at the ready and, when she speaks, her voice is melodious, with just a trace of an accent so faint as to be unidentifiable--the perceptive may be the only ones to even notice it from a normal Midwestern American speech pattern.

Salem frowns as he directs his attention at the teenage girl, brows furrowing; it takes him a moment to recognize and remember her. The aquiline features settle into a blandly polite mask. "Jean. Good evening."

Jean nods, a pleased smile turning up her mouth. "Good evening to you, too, sir. If I'm disturbing you..." she trails off.

Salem shifts his weight, sitting up more. "You're not. Just... taking in the evening." He smiles thinly. "Have a seat, if you like."

Jean nods once, and moves slowly to the end of the bench, giving the Fostern a wide berth. "Me, too. If the moon was more full, I'd be on the other side, but, this is as close as I get tonight."

Salem cocks his head, regarding her with that one brown eye for a moment. "...Right. Bit dangerous over there at the moment." He settles back. "Been settling in all right?"

Jean nods, this time in agreement to his observation, or maybe it's his question, it's really hard to tell, isn't it? "Okay, I guess. Classes aren't as bad as I was expecting, and we have the week off this week for Thanksgiving. I've been doing a lot of driving or walking around to get to know where everything is."

You hear the whistling before you see who's doing it. At the far end of Bridge Street, someone's just turned into the park, walking along with their hands in their pockets.

"What is it that you're studying again?" Salem asks this as the whistling makes itself known; he glances over toward its source.

Jean glances that way as well, but as the conversation is still pretty mundane, doesn't bother to moderate her decibel level or posture. "Criminal psychology. Although, I'm starting to think about going pre-med as well."

Salem arches an eyebrow as he looks back at Jean. "Why pre-med?" He sounds skeptical as well as honestly curious.

It's just a girl, wearing a weird sweatshirt that's got rabbit ears on the hood. Lyra's whistle gets softer when she glances at the people sitting at the bench. Something by Nancy Sinatra... She pauses when she recognizes them, then heads that way, no faster than before and whistling again.

"Criminal psychology is great and all," Jean explains diffidently, "but I think forensics is what really fascinates me. With criminal psych -and- medicine, I could become a criminal pathologist."

Salem, once he notices the bunny-ears on Lyra's hood, relaxes subtly. His own hood, of course, possesses no such decoration. He nods to Jean. "Do you think you'll be able to get through the entire program? Few of us do."

When she's a few feet away, Lyra stops, rocking back on her heels and watching the two discuss something school-related- something they say makes her quirk a smile. But she waits patiently from a distance, and takes to humming softly instead.

Jean gives Lyra another glance, picking up something out of Salem's posture to warrant it, expression curious as she gives her the once over from shoes to kitty ears. But as Salem isn't emoting concern, she takes the cue from him. "Yes, I think I can," she responds with simple confidence. "I know it's tough for a lot of people, but I had some good teachers."

"It'd be useful set of skills to have, at least," Salem says, and then calls over to the bunny-girl. "I won't bite, Lyra," he says, perfectly deadpan. "And I don't think Jean will, either."

The bunny-girl grins, making a gun out of her hand and pretending to shoot Salem- a move which, in retrospect, probably doesn't put him at ease. "Never know who bites nowadays," she says a little ruefully, glancing at Jean curiously. "Do you bite?"

Salem grunts, but doesn't seem very fearful of guns made out of little bitty Gnawerphilo fingers.

"Very rarely," Jean replies with a toothy smile. "I'm not fond of the taste of blood." She rises to her feet, drawing a hand from her pocket to offer the gloved palm to Lyra in introduction. "Jean Michalek."

Lyra's half-smile comes back, and from the sparkle in her eyes, she's clearly amused by the response. She gives the offered hand a quick squeeze before letting go, not a strong shake at all. Itty bitty fingers indeed. "Lyra Tobias," she replies. "S'pose better question is, can you bite?"

"As well as the rest of us, more or less," Salem says, a note of dry, laconic humor in his voice now.

Jean studies Salem thoughtfully, then makes a decisive nod to Lyra. "Probably less than some. Jean Michalek, theurge of the Shadow Lords."

A red sportscar pulls up near the curb of the park and exits the pair of Garou that consists of Alicia and Katrine. Leading the younger girl toward the glade, they can spy the fountain just up ahead.

"Probably better than some," the Gnawer philo says wryly. "Lyra Four-Leaves, halfmoon of the Bone Gnawers." She does curtsy this time, to both Salem and Jean.

The car pulling up gets her attention and she looks over, hands digging deeper into her pockets.

Salem shifts his weight, sitting up and peering toward the arriving figures; his mouth thins slightly. To the other two with him, he remarks absently, "I'm surprised you two haven't met before."

Jean shrugs within her winter coat, before sitting back on the end of the bench. She turns to Salem and explains, "I've met everyone here through someone else." The sportscar gets her attention, too, since everyone else is glancing that way.

"Mama said not to talk to strangers," Lyra murmurs, deadpan.

"Word up." Alicia calls over to the Garou as she saunters over on booted feet, chin lifting upwards to regard the three. "Salem, Jean, Lyra. Wantcha ta' meet someone 'ere. Katrine."

"And yet," Salem murmurs in reponse to Lyra, his eye still on the approaching Alicia and Friend, "you keep talking to _me_..." He lifts eyebrows, then, as the two have arrived, and turns his attention, critically perhaps, onto Katrine. "Evening."

Somewhat on the short side - only slightly over five feet tall - Katrine is slim, but her body is that of someone who doesn't get enough exercise and forgets to eat as often as not. Her hair, cut to chin-length, is as black as a raven's wing; deep cerulean eyes gaze out of a face whose skin is pale from lack of sun exposure. She smiles occasionally, and laughs hardly at all - and while Katrine can talk for hours on end if she wants to, it's never about anything really important. She is undoubtedly a modern-day city girl. Blue jeans, a t-shirt (usually dark blue), and tennis shoes are Cat's chosen attire. Simple and utilitarian, they work for just about everything she ever needs to do.

Jean just nods to Alicia, with a slight smile of greeting, but quiets to study the even newer person.

Here we have Alicia Jackson, a young woman who just turned 18, but has that hard look in her eyes which could easily be mistaken for older. Slender in form, her body is composed of lean, compacted muscle. She looks quick, with new budded muscle which has formed on her upperbody. Her eyes are a dark brown, curious and wandering, lit up playfully most of the time. She stands of average height, perhaps about 5'6 or so, carrying herself well when she moves. Her flesh is lightly tanned, kissed by the sun from the many years of running with the gangs on the street. Four ear rings adorn her left ear, two more upon the right, composed of small, goldeny hoops. The Galliard's hair falls down just past her shoulders. Once brown and red streaked to those who's seen her before. Now, pale blonde with slightly darkened roots.

Her clothing consists of a pair of baggy, over sized camouflage pants. Black, green, and brown patterns splashed along the fabric. A tight fitting sports bra hug her upper frame, revealing the curves of her upper body, flat stomach and lean arms. She wears a golden hoop in her navel. Knee high boots travel up her legs, firmly laced in each hole. Finishing off, she has a worn, dusty old black trench coat which hangs just below her knees. Her tongue ring is almost always seen, clicking in thought, or when she speaks with that ghetto accent of hers.

Katrine follows Alicia over to the bench, slightly behind the older Garou. She nods to the three, then stands still and watches them, glancing back to Alicia every so often. "Hello."

Salem finishes his study of Katrine and turns his attention to Alicia. "How much does she know?" he asks his former packmate, rather curtly.

Lyra's smile quirks and she mumbles something back to the Walker, almost too softly for him to hear it. To Alicia and Katrine, she gives a bright grin and cants her head. "Heard about you from 'Nee and Alicia," she says gently. "Sounds like you were having a pretty rough day. Things've gotten a little better, haven't they?"

Offering a grin first to her pack mate, then a nod and wave to the other pair, Alicia crosses her arms and then trains her eyes upon Salem. "Well, here she is. Safe and sound. I've become quite attached to her, I'll admit." She says with a grin. "She knows the litany, the history of the Garou, at least from my tribe's perspective since it was the easiest to get into." She ponders. "She has gone through the basics of shifting, hierarchy. I haven't touched up on spirits, but I have talked about the Umbra, tho haven't gotten her there yet. Since she is a Galliard, I've been doing stuff like that with her. Now that I know she's a roach like you, I kinda just kept it to the basics." She pauses. "I haven't shot her yet." Smirk.

Salem makes a little 'tsk' sound at being informed that the thin, raven-haired girl hasn't had a bullet in her yet, and it's hard to say if he's truly disappointed or if the whole shooting thing is some kind of joke. He looks back at Katrine. "My name," he says, without getting up from his seat on the bench, "is Jack Salem. I am a Philodox, a Fostern, and, it seems, your tribal Elder."

Katrine nods to Lyra. "A little, yes," she replies, otherwise remaining quiet. She'll leave them to talk - especially since she doesn't know three of the others.

Alicia can't help but chuckle slightly at Salem's noise, flopping down onto the bench as well, drawing a knee up to her chest, leaning against it.

Katrine then gets addressed. Okay, then. Focusing on Salem, since he's the one talking to her, she nods again. "Pleased to meet you," the girl offers.

The big, scarred man in the hooded sweatshirt continues to gaze steadily at Katrine, his mismatched eyes unwavering. "Likewise," Salem says blandly. "I understand that you're currently staying with Alicia?"

Lyra turns and murmurs something to Jean, smiling a little.

Alicia glances over to Salem for a moment, then lets her gaze draw towards Katrine, winding her fingers around her knee as she leans into it.

Jean smiles with amusement at Lyra's words, glancing between the Gnawer and the cub, to murmur back under her breath.

Katrine nods. Yes, again. "I am, yes," she replies matter-of-factly, meeting Salem's gaze for a moment before turning her head and letting her eyes wander over the park landscaping. The fountain's certainly interesting.

The Gnawer and Shadow Lord continue their little discussion, being all elitist and shutting the rest of the 'roo out. Cliaths club only.

"That will end," Salem says, quite definitely. With a brief glance at the Child of Gaia, he adds, "No offense to Alicia, of course."

Jean grins at Lyra's words, whispering back to her.

Alicia jerks her head up slightly and then looks over to Salem, rubbing the back of her neck. Wordlessly, she turns to Katrine and watches her for a moment. "Can I drop her off tomorrow at the Dominion then? I want another night with her."

Lyra whispers a reply, cupping her mouth so the words are even further obscured. When she pulls back, hands falling into her pockets, she's smirking.

If Salem notices or is irritated by the secretive back-and-forth between Jean and Lyra, he shows no sign. His nod to Alicia is quite calm, his tone of voice even and businesslike. "That will be fine."

Jean glances sidelong at Salem, studying him surreptiously, then mutters back at Lyra.

Katrine narrows her eyes, looking back and forth between Salem and Alicia. "What, I don't get a say in this?"

Salem turns that intent, unmovable gaze onto the cub and says, simply, "No. You're a Glass Walker, and you'll stay with us."

Alicia clears her throat slightly and reaches out, slipping her hands over the cub's shoulders, giving her a soft massage, trying to comfort her. "... if it was up to me, I'd take you back home for good, cubcake." She offers a slight smile. "Salem is good people, alright? I packed with him for a good long time. He and I were the A and B of our pack. I trust him, and he trusts me. And ya'know what? I'll visit you a lot, OK? I'll probably be doing your Galliard training since I'm the ranking one here in the Sept. And you know where I live, you can visit me, have lunch or something. But he's a good teacher. He may look rough an tough, but he's a cream puff underneathe." She assures, smiling slightly. "Sides, you'll get to live in a cooshy type mansion or whatever and have a cell phone and stuff. Yer' one of the big dogs now. Kinda like royalty in the city, eh'?"

Lyra giggles- but Katrine's words catch her attention, and she tilts her head at the discussion the three are having, before replying to Jean softly.

Jean shakes her head, although it's with a smile, to respond quietly to Lyra.

Salem looks more like a vicious junkyard dog than a creampuff, really, and his mouth takes on a dour twist. He continues to stare flatly at Katrine.

Katrine shrugs off Alicia's hands, and turns away. "Whatever," is her muttered reply. The girl makes her way back towards the car, without a backward glance. Serves her right, doesn't it, for even trying to have a friend. Well. Won't be any more of /that/.

Alicia lets out a soft breath and glances over to Salem, then rises upwards, murmuring. "Be right back." With that, she makes her way after the kid, jogging to catch up. "Hey... Kat. Hold up."

Lyra winks, rocking back on her heels once or twice. "We can chat about it somewhere where we're in less danger of being bitten," she says in that quiet voice that's meant for others to hear. Then she glances at the others in surprise...apparently their discussion wasn't so cheerful.

Salem grimaces faintly, then shakes his head and rolls his good eye toward Jean and Lyra. "And what the hell are _you_ two so intent about?" he asks.

"Deal," Jean says, also loud enough to be heard, but still quietly. Especially since Salem just turned on them. Straightening up, she replies with utmost politeness, "We were discussing the different ways we were introduced to -our- tribes, and how every tribe is different."

"And how awfully... efficient you are with your own," Lyra adds pointedly, hands clasping behind her back.

Salem regards the pair of them with a frown that indicates that he doesn't quite believe them, that he suspects, in fact, that he's being made fun of. "I see."

Jean jerks her chin towards Katrine and Alicia's departure, and says, carefully, but with sincere wonder, "I'm surprised you let her go like that."

Lyra's headtilt shows she agrees. "She's had a rough time of it, from what Mama Eyes tells," she says softly.

Salem glances back over toward the pair, and his shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "Alicia's better at smoothing feathers than I am," he tells Jean.

Katrine pauses and looks at Alicia. "What's there to talk about?" the girl asks, tilting her head, sincerely curious. Decision's been made, hasn't it? Nothing she can do... though she certainly resents it. A lot.

Jean gives Lyra a glance at Salem's words, but then turns back to the Fostern and nods. With another quick glance, this time at the Children of Gaia and cub, she says back to Salem, "Have you heard anything more about the serial killings from your people, since you got back? I didn't hear from anyone, but I also haven't noticed anything cropping up in the paper."

"Our pack is hunting tomorrow, with Luke's pack," the littler halfmoon says softly. Lyra glances to Salem as well. "But I expect you knew that already?"

Reaching out, Alicia brushes a pair of fingers through Kat's hair, offering a smile. "Look, if you are scared, you can tell me honestly. If you are nervous, worried.. what not.. just say it. Let it out." She says softly. "I know you must think that this is unfair, and probably a bit crazy, eh'? Its just the human side thats thinking for you right now. I know you won't believe this, but you going with Salem is for the best." She drops her hands down to squeeze the younger girl's. "He is a great teacher. Just be patient with him, and don't mouth off. Learn, like you would in any other class room, ya'know?" She clears her throat. "You'll succeed, I know you will. Yer' a tough cookie. You trust me, right?"

Salem shakes his head, his mouth thinning. "No," he says to Jean, and then to Lyra, "and no. I didn't. Hunting where, exactly?"

Lyra tilts her head like she was listening to the wind. "From here, actually, and tracking them. Lish says they're ghouls."

Salem arches an eyebrow. "Where there are ghouls, there are usually vampires. One, at least." He's keeping half an eye on Alicia and Katrine.

Katrine gazes up at Alicia, blinking once. She breathes slowly, deeply, her face devoid of expression. No emotion, no feeling. No pain, no sorrow. Nothing to show, no weaknesses to reveal. No way the world can hurt her. "Trust?" the girl replies coolly, an eyebrow twitching upwards. After a moment of still silence, Katrine turns her head and pulls away, resuming her progress towards the car. Look where it got her. Again. No, no more. She declared that once, and had managed to live by it until the first shift turned her world upside down and shook it; now she chooses to return.

Reaching out, Alicia snags her arm and steps in front of her, saying firmly. "Katrine. I know this doesn't seem like fair, but its the only way you'll ever survive in this world. Everything I told you leads up to this moment. This is your next step, your next challenge. You know that wolves are family type creatures. Salem is apart of your family. Just like I am apart of your family. Its why we form packs. We gotta stick together. I know this may be scary or just.. nerve wracking or confusing, but its what has to happen to ensure your survival. So keep your chin up alright? Just cuz' you aren't living with me, doesn't mean yer' ganna be stuck in a world of hell. You can trust him, just like you can trust me or anyone else in my pack. C'mon, we're sisters, alright? I'll give you my cell number so you can call me whenver you need a friend to talk to. Just don't be angry."

Jean is content, for the moment, to watch and listen to Salem and Lyra talk about the planned attack, and keep an ear on Alicia and Katrine.

Salem leans forward and pushes to his feet in one smooth motion. "Hrmph. Let me know how it goes." The Walker starts toward the street, passing Alicia and Katrine as he goes. "Welcome to the tribe," he says to the cub as he goes by -- either oblivious or uncaring to her hurt feelings. "Be seeing you." This farewell is offered to the group at large as he walks off, hands in coat pockets.

Katrine is stopped again, and huffs slightly. She keeps getting in the way. The girl listens, none too patiently, nodding as Alicia talks but also letting her eyes wander around the park. Though, an astute observer may note, never back towards Salem and the others. When the older Garou /finally/ finishes with the whole speech thing, Katrine looks back at her in some relief. Now that /that/ is out of the way... "You'll do as you wish," she replies. "And so will Salem..." Kat doesn't turn as the male passes by, or acknowledge his presence with more than a glance. "I?" she continues after he leaves, with a shrug. "I'm not angry. I'll do as I must." She wants her to treat it like school, hmm? Hah.

Lyra sighs, rocking back on her heels for a moment- "All that stuff I said? True. Except for the biting part." She smiles ruefully, then dips her head respectfully. "Very please to make your acquaintance, Jean-yuf."

Alicia rubs the back of her neck slightly and lets out a slow breath, then glances over to Lyra and Jean. "Hey guys. I guess I'm ganna take Kat home and make brownies.. again." She says softly. "Lyra.. I guess I'll pick you an Yi up an we'll have ourselves a party t'morrow. Jean, you wanna run with RAT tomorrow?"

Jean rises to her feet. "And yours, Lyra. I should get going, though, I have class tomorrow morning. Is there a good way to contact you?" A pause, then, "Maybe here?"