"Gluttony and gratitude. The two pillars of Thanksgiving Day."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 09:45 Pacific Time on Thu Nov 27 2003. Currently in Saint

Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5
degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 9
mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.03 and rising, and the relative
humidity is 43 percent. The dewpoint is 21 degrees Fahrenheit (-6 degrees
Celsius.) 

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (23% full).

Salem's new desc:

Those who have known Jack Salem may very well not recognize him at first,
such is the severity of his change. Only the ugly, twisting scars on the
left side of his face and the deep-set, mismatched eyes -- the left blind
white, the right nearly black -- remain the same.

He has the look of a man who's just finished a tour of duty in hell. It
shows mostly in his face, a hawkish visage that seems narrower than before;
the angles of his features are sharply defined, the aristocracy in them
scoured down to the bone. The short beard and long hair have vanished; his
face is clean-shaven, and nothing but dark stubble covers his scalp. He
looks younger than his thirty years, but the shadowed eyes are much, much
older.

At six-foot-three, he stands taller than most men, and an inherent
athleticism indicates that he could probably hold his own in a fight.
There's also an aura of pent-up violence about him, a tightly-controlled
rage that could be lethal if unleashed.

A plain white t-shirt is tucked into a pair of BDUs that have faded to gray,
and his black combat boots are well broken-in. Along with this he wears a
zippered sweatshirt, dark gray and with a hood.

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.

The sound of Alicia singing echos through the farmhouse as she bustles about
the kitchen busily, creating up quite a Thanksgiving spread for the Garou
later tonight. There is about three defrosted Turkey's sitting in the sink,
and food mixings everywhere.

Salem lets himself in through the front door and follows the sound of
Alicia's voice into the kitchen, hanging up his coat as he does so. He
pauses in the doorway to survey the preparations for the feast and arches an
eyebrow. "Are you certain that you have enough?"

Alicia grins faintly and rolls her shoulders. "I sure hope so." She says,
hipping the oven shut where another pair of Turkey's sit. "Five turkeys and
about ten pounds of stuffing. I also went out an bought a few oven ready
packs of mash potatos. Someone else can bring the salad." She stretches
herself out. "How ya doing bro?"

Salem leans against the doorframe, hands resting in the pockets of his
sweatshirt. He answers her question with a faint shrug. "I'm fine. Settling
back in. How's Katrine?"

Alicia wets her lips a bit. "Not a happy camper. I think I'm the only friend
she has in her life. She's pretty upset.. an shit, ya'know? We became quite
attached through our teachings and she looks up to me." Rubbing a hand on
the back of her neck, she lets out a sigh. "She's calmed down at least, she
just won't really .. talk to me much now."

Salem grimaces. "'Woe is me, the world is ending, I have to live somewhere
else.'" The sarcasm lies thick in the Walker's voice. "Does she think I'm
going to lock her in a tower?" Not too far-fetched, since the Dominion
happens to _have_ a tower...

"No. She doesn't know what to think. I saved her from a raping in an alley
where she went nuts, killed some guy an tore him to pieces an then got
knocked out. Since then, I've treated her like gold, so that she won't get
that pissed off cub angst and go around bad mouthing her Elders." Alicia
rolls her shoulders back a bit. "She's been a loner all her life and now she
feels like a dog on a leash, being tugged from one place to the other. I
mean.. c'mon. You came off as a total dick to her on the first day meeting
her. Coulda tried smiling or something, instead of.. Oh, that will end.. you
won't be staying with her anymore." She frowns. "You coulda been all.. Hi.
I'm Salem, your tribal Elder. Its nice to meet you. You'll be staying with
me at my place, but don't worry, I won't fucking kill you even tho' I dress
like a psychotic murderer." She grins faintly at that.

Salem's eyes narrow slightly. Then he snorts. "I _am_ a psychotic murderer.
Or at least sociopathic. Ask my co-workers."

"I know you are, but she doesn't know that. I'm just saying. Be gentle
first, be a dick later." Alicia shrugs her shoulders. "It works with me and
I got mentally well balanced cubs." She chuckles slightly. "By the way..
Luke's power mission out to the city was suckass."

"_Your_ cubs are unicorn children," the Glass Walker points out, then joins
her in switching to the new subject. "Oh, the scouting thing?"

"You mean the mission that was supposed to be a head dive straight into them
without a single fucking plan or way of entrance or escape and no weapons
sides.. our claws." Alicia murmurs. "Can I be blunt with you?"

Salem's eyebrows rise. He shifts his weight -- he's no longer favoring the
right leg; that wound must have finished healing -- and goes to take a seat
at the kitchen table. "Of course."

Pausing for a moment, Alicia simply says. "I miss John." She then clears her
throat. "I miss going into action with a map, a shit load of bullets and
talens, and knowing exactly what the fuck we were doing. I had to literally
fight with James and Leo to shut them up, because they wanted to charge head
first into that warehouse and take on the unknown. We sent Craig out as a
dummy, pretending to be a dog an sniff about the alleys. Well... they had
five guys out there in seconds, checking it out. A /dog/. And who knows
what'd have happened if we sent out.. I dunno.. five Garou to check up on
the warehouse. To me, looked like one way in.. the front door. We didn't
check the roofs yet. We didn't have any talens like.. sunlight or fire, you
know.. useful shit when going up against potential vampires. Luke wanted to
break wooden stakes, as if this was Buffy the Vampire Slayer or some crap."
She goes on a rant, venting. "Tooth an Claw. Thats it.. no game plan.. He
wanted to go in the daylight.. an there was contruction workers everywhere
when I checked it out. People are doing work. So, I had us go at dawn an do
a total scouting mission. I just wanted to see what we were up against and I
had to frigg'n bark at the others to keep their cool. So. Yah.. I'm a pussy
for not wanting to go in an get me an my pack killed, because the Alpha who
was /supposed/ to be there, didn't show up for some reason and lead us."

The hard, narrow lines of Salem's face soften a notch at mention of John; he
listens to the Gaian's rant patiently, his expression pensive. When she's
done, he shakes his head. "Is there any reason why no talens were made?
Scourge has two Theurges at its beck."

Alicia throws her hands up in the air. "Oh, it'd take too long to make. They
may not have a week or two before the katana's take off again."

"And guns, of course, are _dishonorable_." The sarcasm in the Walker's voice
is thick indeed, but weary, too. He rubs his chin, scratching absently at a
bit of stubble missed in the morning shave. "I assume that the Rangers
disengaged with some complaining."

"Yah. I'm a pussy for not pulling the trigger. Whatever. There was five of
us.. There shoulda been like ten if anything. Its vampires, not.." Alicia
trails off. "I dunno.. its frustrating how dim witted most Garou can be. I'm
just spoiled I guess by Synthesis."

Salem makes a little 'mmm' noise. "So what _has_ been learned about our
little katana ghoul-gang?"

"Well. Seeing how I'm the only person who has experience fighting them,
outside of Cutter. I can tell you that the gang itself is ghouls. At least
the dimwitted ones. I know that a couple of non breathers got into a van,
slash, gun fight in the park and then took off and disapeared. So it seems
that these paticular vampires aren't the subtle kind and they got beef with
a few brotha's and sistah's on the block." Alicia drawls faintly. "Seems
like they got at least five ghouls that protect the warehouse during the day
time hours. Latino in nature, spanish speakers. They aren't quiet about what
they do... a Corax pal of ours reported they were sword fighting at night on
the roof top, cutting each other up an then healing over again."

Salem's expression goes from merely solemn to a light shade of grim. "Have
they displayed any odd or unusual powers? Anything that stands out from the
usual tough-fast-strong sort of thing?"

Alicia shakes her head. "Outside of decomposing a few days after I killed
them. No." She says with a soft breath. "Alright. Since I'm yappy today, you
want me to go into detail?"

Salem nods, making a go-ahead gesture. "Please." Apparantly, this has
racheted itself up higher in the priorities list.

"Aiight. Jean and I were kicking it at a Quickie Mart to get gas after
having a Garou girl's night out on the town. Well, I go inside to pay, and I
see the rag headed cashier pissing his pants. I go to the counter to ask him
whats up and these three guys pop up.. with.. katanas and guns. They start
ordering me behind the counter and shit, right? So.. I start doing my silver
tongue thing, stalling for time so that Jean can buy a fucking clue an see
what is taking me so long? What does she do? Start /flirting/ with some guy
outside! So.. I'm sitting there.. guns to my head and these guys are acting
like those morons in Kill Bill. Cutter of all people come into the store to
buy something and he sees me there, all damsel in distress like. Well, we
get a plan together in Mind Speak. He sets off a fire in the store. Scares
the fuck out of them and I get shot in the back of my head. I was lucky to
have been using a pain numbing gift of mine, cuz I saw my brain hit the far
wall. I calmly turned around, pulled a gun an blew his head off wtih one
shot. One down, two to go. The other guy took a bullet in the leg, then
chest, before he dropped. The last guy took off after doing some fancy sword
waving. None of 'em moved fast, none 'em could fucking aim a gun or even do
much with those metal tooth picks, and they didn't show off any vampiric
powers. Also, /why/ hold up a conveience store if yer' the undead, right?"
Alicia rolls her shoulders. "I thought there was something anarchist about
the entire situation. I also hear from Olga, a Gnawer contact of mine in the
city that the non breathers got into the van fight with what appears to be..
Russians. Well.. they went around in circles, bullets everywhere, then,
poof. They drove off an disapeared.. like.. /gone./."

Salem's brow furrows. "Gone?"

Alicia shrugs her shoulders. "Went into the water, from what I was told. She
followed them I believe to the docks? I think? An.. poof." She says. "Ask
her. Its been awhile since I heard the whole story. But, we got ourselves a
Corax in the city. She's proved useful by the way. She gave us the addy an
location of that warehouse where they were practicing their ninja skills."

Salem rubs absently at the scarred side of his face, frowning. "Mmm. Renee
told me about her. And that one of the new Fianna has a problem with her.
Does our feathery friend have a name?"

Alicia rolls her shoulders. "I only met her once.. when she was sitting on
the rooftop of the barn. She wouldn't come down and hang out with us. Olga
was too busy trying to kill her." She sighs. "I think she tossed her name,
but I didn't catch it. Even if she did, it was probably fake. She obviously
wasn't very trusting after being chased off. She gets along with my cub just
fine tho'." She shrugs her shoulders once more. "By the way.. Nico is
calling in for favors."

Salem makes a sour face at mention of the attempted Coraxicide. "Oh, Dalton?
And who's Olga?"

"Olga, my Gnawer contact. She's new to the city. She's proven useful with
cubs so far." Alicia explains. "Also, not sure if you heard.. Church is
blown up. Um.. Vampires attacked /here/ at the farmhouse by accident when
trying to rob the house. Boy did they pick the wrong neighborhood. Renee got
attacked out by the Temple by vampires also." She says. "Looks like if its
not one thing, its another."

Salem murmurs, "I know about the church." He shakes his head. The
dour-looking Glass Walker is seated at the kitchen table, legs stretched out
in front of him and arms folded across his chest. Though the pose is one of
ease, he doesn't look especially relaxed.
	
The door bangs as Trevor comes home, and he can be heard banging about a
little before he arrives in the kitchen.

A tall man, roughly 6', Trevor has long black hair that frames his face and
sits atop his collar. His eyes are a pale blue, just this side of watery.
While he's certainly no weakling he's not exactly a muscle-bound hulk
either. In fact physically he's fairly average. In good shape, but a little
stretched out because of his height.  He's wearing plain black trousers, a
semi-formal white shirt and a large black traveller's greatcoat.

There is food /everywhere/. Three turkeys in the sink. Two in the oven.
Stuffing, cranberries, just gobs of stuff, everywhere. Its like a
supermarket. As she moves from one thing to the other, she continues to talk
to Salem. "Alrightie. Well.. Dalton, yah. Goth Mage. He wants me to take him
to a few choice spots around the city, take him into the Umbra and peek
around for a population count or something. Renee is going along with me,
just in case."

"_Take_ him into the--" Salem pauses as he hears Trevor banging around; as
the newcomer shows up, he tilts his head to regard the other man with one
dark eye.

After taking the time to sleep in and a good while to get cleaned up and
decently dressed, Dakota arrives by way of the front door. Sporting jeans
and a beige cotton sweather, the cub isn't far behind Trevor to come
investigate the food-crowded kitchen, and those who happen to be competing
with the turkies for occupancy.

At 16, Dakota is a slender, petite girl of only about 5'4". Her's is a small
frame, but her body is well fitted to it, tempered through years of
activities since she was just a toddler. Her skin is a uniform creamy tan,
save around her wrists and arms where a number of fresh pink scars can be
seen. They seem like newly healed scratch marks from something like
fingernails, unlike the majority of other small white nicks and scars from
an active childhood. Dark auburn hair is long and drapes down to the middle
of her back, the texture a gentle wave that curls a bit at the very tips.
Dakota's eyes, large and round, are a dark chocolate brown and remain free
from cosmetics that would ruin their natural shape and color. There is a
shine of intelligence and a sharp mind behind them, and they are constant
looking, ever perceptive. Dakota wears a variety of clothing depending on
the circumstance, and jewelry only when she needs to.

Trevor's initial response is one of taken-abackness. Being British and until
recently so often on his own, he still has a tendancy to forget the dates of
stuff such as Thanksgiving.

"Trevor. Welcome to Thanksgiving a'la Alicia. Its tradition. Wash your
hands, you get to toss the salad." A coy grin forms over her lips as she
peers past him. "Hey cubcake." She calls out, lifting up a hand to wave to
Dakota. "Dak, have you met Salem? He was my Alpha and pack brother in
Synthesis, and once Sept Alpha before he brain farted and gave up the
position."

Salem finishes his study of Trevor to give Dakota some of the same
treatment. There's nothing in his harsh appearance or reserved manner that
encourages the kind of familiarity and amiable disrespect that Alicia
cheerfully directs at him. "Jack Salem, called Scar," he says after a
moment, introducing himself without getting up from the chair. "Philodox of
the Glass Walkers."

Dakota shakes her head in reponse to Alicia's question, looking over to the
Walker. She's never met him, no, but she's certainly heard about him. She
nods her head to Salem, introducing herself, "I'm Dakota Stands-Up-to-Rage,
cub Theurge of the Children of Gaia."

Lured in by seeing a whole gathering inside the kitchen of the farmhouse, Yi
appears at the sliding glass door. She lets herself in, eyeing the room with
a once over before saying her hellos to those in. "Mm... need help?"

Vigilance is a shroud around her, ever watchful of her surroundings and the
beings around. Almond-shaped coffee brown eyes gaze out evenly for awhile,
though sometimes they turn distant in memory. A cascade of deep brown
highlighted hair layers off to outline the curves of her face and sometimes
mask her eyes. Scars peek through the hems of her clothing, hinting at the
wounds not quite healed that seem to cut much deeper into the spirit.
(+detail Yi's Scars) Always, she tries to keep herself behind a calm,
invisible mask, hiding away the darkest pits in her heart and mind. Her
clothes are aimed for a silent edge, humble yet hiding something. A black
long-sleeve shirt is covered with a waterproof zip-up navy blue jacket. Her
black pants are comfortable, held by a steel-buckled belt. Scuffed, worn-in
black sneakers make up her footwear. A Native American looking bear pendant
tied on a sinew thong around her neck is added as a finishing eccentric
touch. (+detail Yi's pendant)

"Scar-rhya." Trevor nods respectfully at the man. "Trevor Sings-To-Spirits,
Cliath Galliard of the Fianna." He introduces himself, grinning at Alicia as
he washes his hands. "I don't think I've ever had a chance to celebrate
before. Always been on my own."

"Well, yer' among family now. Hey Yi...." She trails off, then pauses for a
moment. Oh god. Its biting.. its biting... "Um..." Barely, Alicia holds her
tongue, tho' that huge grin of hers is plastered against her face.

Salem's eye flicks back to Trevor for a moment, then turns again to Dakota.
"Your elder was just talking about you, you know," he tells the cub, quite
bland and deadpan. Yi gets a look and a nod of greeting.

Yi returns Salem's nod with her own, though Alicia does get a funny look.
"What? What is it?" She puts a hand to her face, just to check.

Smirking, Dakota looks aside to her cousin at this, squinting playfully.
"You better be sayin' /good/ stuff!" She says jokingly, wandering over to
investigate her various dishes being created for tonight. "Yeesh... you
doin' this all yerself?"

Salem's mouth twitches into a brief, thin smile, but he doesn't expand on
what dire things Alicia might have been saying about her cub.

Tossing the salad, Trevor begins to sing softly under his breath.

"Of course. Been here since about five a.m, bringing the food over and
cooking." Alicia says with a grin as she glances sidewalks to Yi. She
continues to grin, then clears her throat slightly.

Dakota wrinkles her nose slightly, "Ya should have woke me up, I could have
helped. Mum and dad always made me help them out with cookin'." She leans
back against the corner of the fridge, watching.

Yi tilts her head, eyeing Alicia more as she acts suspiciously. As Dakota
mentions parents, the ragabash glances to the cub before hastily looking
away. "So what do you want to do with the turkeys?"

"I got two in the oven, three in the sink. I had to defrost the other three
and I can't stick more then two in there.. so.. I guess they get to sit.
They'll need gutting and stuffing once they are ready to go in." Alicia
explains as she makes her rounds about the place. "And, I woulda woke ya up,
if you and Katrine wasn't up till' two a.m. arguing Authors."

"Arguing what?" Salem arches an eyebrow, looking quizzical.

"Authors. They are both readers." Alicia grins faintly over at Dakota,
before nudging Trevor. "How's that salad coming along?"

Breaking off from his singing, Trevor replies "It's about done, actually.
Where should I put it?"

Dakota huffs quietly, crossing her arms across her chest. "Not my fault I
knew Scott O'Dell wrote Island of the Blue Dolphins. I read that all the
time when I was a kid." See what happens when you let cubs watches Jeopardy?

Yi has a vague mental image before she dares to ask what just popped in her
mind. "Is Uncle Scar here to help with the cooking as well?" she queries
with a growing smile.

"'Uncle Scar,' says Salem in a languid tone that would do credit to a cat,
"came by to catch up on news, and he knows better than to interfere with a
woman in the kitchen."

Twirling around, Alicia's hips are'a'shaking as she grins, bumping up
against Trevor. "In th' fridge to keep cool, of course. Hey Yi, if you wanna
help out.. I got ready made biscuit mix in the grocery bag over there." She
points.

Yi dips her head with a smirk at Salem's reply before going over to the
grocery bag indicated. She stares at the label for what seems to be too long
for anyone to read directions.

Dancing through the crowded kitchen to place the salad in the fridge, Trevor
returns to Alicia's side. "What should I do now?"

"Well, Yi is ganna make biscuits." I hope. "You and Dakota can start on pie
patrol. I got crusts in the fridge already in pans. All you two gotta do is
fill it up. I made extra dough earlier to be used as topping. Got apple,
berry mix, pumpkin mix, and lemon meragnie all in the freezer. I think I saw
a package of frozen strawberries too, so if you want to get creative with
that, have a blast." Alicia fills in, heading back to the oven and peeking
in at the two turkey's roasting.

"Pie I can do!" Dakota beams, movin the foot needed to stuck her nose in the
fridge, hauling out the crusts. Shuffling them over to an open area of
workspace, she sets them all out in a row.

Yi hms quietly to herself. Screw directions. Just get it to look like what's
on the label! Confidence renewed, the Gnawer at least can open the mix easy
and get to work. "If the oven is filled with turkey, where do the rest of
the things you want to make that require an oven go?"

Salem, meanwhile, observes the culinary chaos with the faintest of smiles.
"Biscuits usually don't take too long," he says. "My mother used to put them
in right after the turkey came out, and they would be done by the time it
was cooled and carved and such."

Grabbing the various fruits out of the freezer, Trevor joins Dakota. "So,
pie it is then."

Yi blinks a couple of times. Salem? Mother? Whew, that's a hard thing to
imagine given what the BFG looks like now. She just laughs softly and nods.
"I admit I have not cooked American food this much before."

A thought crosses over Alicia's face as she offers Salem a smile, then
glances over to Yi. "You can read the directions, right? If not, we can have
you do pies and Trev can do biscuits."

Yi waves off the Coggie galliard. "It is all math anyway," she points at the
label. "And I can read this. Cups. Table spoon. Mix." Yep, she can read! Koo
koo kachoo. "Jeremy has helped a lot in teaching me."

Salem offers no more revelations about this 'mother' he theoretically had or
has. "You know, Alicia," he says, "if you'd told me you were planning
something like this, I would have offered use of Walker house."

"Well. You were kinda MIA for a bit Salem. I planned this a bit ago." Alicia
grins faintly. "Or else I woulda. But.. farmhouse is tradition, so that cubs
can attend."

Humming to himself, Trevor begins to open the fruit into bowls.

Salem makes a dismissive gesture. "Truck the cubs in. Give them a taste of
the good life." He smirks and adds, with dry humor, "See how many decide
they want to be urrah."

"I would have offered the Zoo, but who knows what soup kitchen regulars may
end up attending if they smell turkey coming from the cages." Yi notes as
well, ears catching a few strains of Trevor's humming. At mention of urrah,
Yi just shakes her head.

"I bet quite a few would." Alicia says as she grins, taking a moment to step
back from her work of the food to relax a bit, taking a seat next to Salem.
"Its nice to get some help tho'. Thanks guys." She says with a nod of her
head.

Salem shifts in his chair, arms folding across his chest. "So. What other
exciting things did I miss while I was away?"

"Revel in the Zoo Umbra where became lunch for a buncha small ass spiders
who swarmed us like crazy and nearly killed us. We all nearly went into a
frenzy. Yi had to knock me out cold." Alicia says with a soft laugh.

Yi seems to be doing alright with the biscuits. No pu-rah-bu-rem. Still
embarrassed by that event, Yi clears her throat. "But overall it was
successful. Next time though, we better be prepared for worse."

"Luke was quite upset, I heard," Salem murmurs.

Mostly the conversation seems to pass Trevor by, but he looks more alert
when Luke is mentioned.

"Yes. Luke was upset, an blamed Renee practically for it all." Alicia says
with a shrug. "Then again.. like I said.. I miss John." She stiffles a soft
yawn.

Salem makes a non-commital little 'mm' noise, the expression on his narrow,
scarred face carefully neutral.

Ah, John. Yi pauses in her biscuit-making for a brief moment. "Either way,
we still need a Wyrmfoe. One who can lead the revel with a more knowing
strategy."

Alicia glances over to Salem. Stare.

Tabia runs her fingers through her hair as she comes downstairs, looking a
little tired, but curious as well. Something smells good, and good enough
even from the attic that she wasn't just going to roll over and go back to
sleep. Not expecting all the people down here at all.

"I'm sure the new Righ will make sure we have one for the next Moot." Trevor
chips in, in reply to Yi.

Salem, after a moment, turns and stares right back at Alicia, his gaze
unwavering. Mismatched eyes narrow. "No," he says, quite firmly.

"Oh c'mon. You got the experience and ferocity." Alicia says with a huff.
"You all don't want me being Wyrm Foe."

"No, you should be leader of the field healers," Yi puts in, nodding at
Trevor's comment. "Perhaps Luke will simply choose a Wyrmfoe."

Salem continues to hold Alicia's eyes, staring at her until she looks away.

Tabia deals with the important question. "How long 'til the food's done?"
Who is or isn't Wyrmfoe doesn't come close to comparing with that in the
cub's mind. "Hey, Yi." The others get a more general nod.

"Whatever the Righ does, I'm sure it will be a wise decision." Trevor says,
continuing with the fruit.

Yi gazes over her shoulder at Tabia, smiling. "Good afternoon, Tabia." Given
the turkeys in the sink... "Probably not until tonight," she answers the
Strider cub. "But these biscuits are ready to be cooked."

Since Alicia isn't having a staring contest with Salem over a suggestion,
she glances away to study the going ons in the kitchen, furrowing her brows.
"Well, if they had a position for such, Yi. I'd take it up."

Salem shifts his weight in his chair, frowning. A dark eye turns toward
Tabia, eyeballing her for a moment before turning his attention back to the
food preparation. "There's no _official_ position of head medic, no..."
Trevor's remark about Luke's wisdom is not commented upon.

"Biscuits're good, I guess," the Strider cub replies to Yi. "Been meanin'
t'ask ya about teachin' me t'use knives the way you do," Tabia goes on.
"Come in handy when I can't get all big'n hairy. Practice throwin' 'em on my
own, 'long with my slingshot, but I need somethin' fer in close, y'know."

"Perhaps we should ask the Righ to make one." is Trevor's suggestion on the
whole matter of head medic.

Yi nods. "At least with Luke as Sept Alpha, and Jamethon as Gatekeeper, you
wouldn't have too much competition. And I agree with Trevor. If there is
need for such a title, then maybe it can be made. I don't think 'Shadow
Walker' has a standing anywhere else." Glancing back to Tabia again, Yi
chuckles softly. "That can be done. If you teach me how to use the sling.
How about it?"

"Its not like I'd want a title for head healer or some shit." Alicia drawls
slightly as she bustles about the kitchen. "Maybe I'll talk to them about
being Wyrm for." Insert laughter here. "You know, since I seem to be the
only one who's capable of thinking rationally outside of 'blow shit up."

Signe wanders into the kitchen-dining area, the voices drawing her there
from the front door. "Oh good, I'm in time for dinner," she says, actually
smiling at the group.

Salem smirks faintly at Alicia, though there's little humor in his eyes. He
glances over at the arriving Get of Fenris and arches an eyebrow. "Early,
actually."

"Now Alicia, that's just not fair." Trevor's tone is joking. "I think
rationally outide of 'blow shit up'. Sometimes I think 'bash shit into
pieces' or 'drink shit until I collapse.'" He winks over at his friend.

Alicia double takes and nearly gets whip lash. "Woah! Holy shit. Its.. its
/her/." She points. "Signe. Hey!" She gets excited, real quick.

Tabia says, "Done deal," in reply to Yi's offer to exchange knowledge.
Looking over toward the new arrival, then, "Early, yeah. Turkey won't be
done 'til t'night. Who're you?"

Signe's not what most would call pretty. Terms like delicate and petite
would never be attributed to her, and come to think of it, neither would
lady-like. She looks to be in her late twenties, standing roughly between
5'10" and 6'. Her powerful frame carries a full 175 pounds, all of it
undoubtedly muscle. Shoulder length black hair hangs straight, not set in
any particular style. She wears no makeup, having neither the time nor the
care to put any effort into such things, though she does sport several
earrings and tattoos. Her eyes are a dark, unremarkable brown that manage to
look angry a good deal of the time, whether she is or not. If there is a
traditionally attractive aspect to her at all, it would be her finely
crafted cheekbones and elegant jaw-line. They give her an air of nobility
otherwise lost in her rough and uncompromising nature.

She's dressed in old, well worn jeans. Dirty, chocolate brown work boots
catch the bottom edges, and a white t-shirt clings to her well-toned frame.
A creased black leather jacket hangs loosely over her shoulders.

Wow. Yi sets the biscuits to one side in the 'to be baked' section of the
kitchen, before turning about and also involuntarily staring for a moment.
When she does move, it's to bow her head respectfully for the Get. "It has
been a long time, Signe."

Signe's apparently staring, too, but mostly at Salem. The narrowed look
occupies the Get enough that the cub's question is ignored. Alicia, though,
gets a brief glance and a flash of grin before the Get turns back to Salem.
"Christ, you look ...worse than usual. Which is saying something. I told you
you never should have taken the top-dog t-shirt around here."

Alicia nudges Tabia and leans over to whisper.

Salem's smirk vanishes at the Get's stare, his eyes narrowing. He snorts.
"So, you were right. I passed the baton. I'm not Alpha anymore."

Stopping what he's doing, Trevor's attention is commanded by the flurry of
excitement surrounding Signe's entry.

Yi glances between Signe and Salem, before clearing her throat again. "Hm, I
half expect it to start snowing outside now," she quips aloud with a look to
the windows.

Signe looks around, noting the two or three people he doesn't know. Salem's
comment draws her attention back again, though. "Yeah?" she says in a
curious tone. "To who? Who's left?"

"Luke," Salem informs the she-Get. "Used to be called Runs-at-Dawn. Now
he's... something Gaelic, I forget." The Glass Walker shrugs.

"Jeadagh." Alicia speaks up, finding her voice and clearing her throat.

"Means Perseverant." Trevor's adds, his British accent sounding rather out
of place as ever.

"And Jamethon is the Gatekeeper," Yi throws in, opening up the fridge to
determine what else there is to be done cooking wise.

Signe scowls, and then once again looks for some of the already-ready
food--maybe chips or something. "Another Fianna. Great." The news about
Jamethon doesn't surprise her, though. she nods. "That I'd heard about. It's
sort of why I'm here. Where is the bastard, by the way?"

Salem glances over at Trevor in response to the Brit's translation and
grunts.

Tabia stays quiet, listening to the conversation without comment. Seen but
not heard? Tabia?

Yi shrugs, picking out some fruit to help out Trevor and Dakota's
piemakings. "I believe he would be somewhere near the caern, but Luke would
know more."

"Yah. Probably out there bitching about how much of a pussy I am." Alicia
says with a grin on her face, tilting her head a bit, then opens up the
cupboard, taking out a few bags of chips.

Raising an eyebrow at Signe's comment, Trevor says "Sounds like you have
something against Fianna?"

Signe finds a seat, waving a thankful hand at Yi. "I'll find him later," she
says, and finally looks at Trevor and Tabia, settling on Trevor as he asks
his question. "More like they tend to have problems with me. Me? I'm easy to
get along with." the Get flashes another of those grins--the kind that makes
children and puppies cry.

"...Something about how her ancestors wrecked havoc over _your_ ancestors?"
Salem suggests blandly, his mismatched eyes shifting to Trevor and Signe.

There's a new person to join the party! Brianna arrives from the living
room, via outside, bundled up in a heavy coat that seems a size or two too
large for her. She glances about at the people she doesn't know--hell,
everyone but Trevor. "Hi," she greets quietly, lingering in the doorway,
unsure if she should stay or leave, being shy like she is.

Yi, unfamiliar with European history, shrugs. "Hello," she greets the
recently arrived Brianna.

"Why would Fianna have a problem with -" Trevor's question is cut off by
Salem.

Tabia doesn't cry, quite the contrary. Her grin is friendly, though. "I
think _I_ like ya. Ain't Fianna, maybe that's why. Tabe, dark moon an' owl
girl."

Alicia tosses the bag of chips onto the table and clears her throat.
"Hopefully this can be one of those conversations that will end up in
clearing up questions and not getting blood on the floor I just mopped a few
hours ago."

"One has an apprentice," Yi says quietly, smirking at Tabia. "But I think
there are new cubs for Fenris too, aren't there?"

Salem gives Trevor a curious look, one eyebrow rising. Then he shrugs and
looks over at Alicia. "I'll hold them down and you can beat them
unconscious. No fighting on Thanksgiving." This is delivered with the
Walker's characteristic dryness. "By the way, Alicia. Are you playing
teacher for anyone right now? Besides cubs, of course."

Signe raises her hands palms up, a sign the Get is in the mood for food, not
fighting. Trevor gets a small smile, and it widens a little at Tabia's
introduction. The Get reciprocates for the cub. "Signe. They call me Skadi's
Defiant Storm among the Get of Fenris. Full Moon, fostern, and I'll be
around for a while. Maybe permanent this time."

On the comment of new cubs, Trevor smiles. "Ah yes there are, Emma's one of
Great Fenris' cubs."

Tabia says "New cubs f'r Fenris? Yeah, m'best friend Emma's a Get. So's
Viggo, but I haven't seen 'im in a while. Emma's an Ahroun, too."

"Oh Signe. You'd love Emma. She's a total pissant and a brawler. She has
started a fight club in the barn for cubs so they can pound away at each
other and learn how to fight." Alicia says, bobbing her head, then glances
to Salem. "Not currently. I just learned a damn good Rite off of Trev' here.
But beyond that. I'm free."

Salem cocks his head and regards Alicia with raised brows. "Since giving up
the alphaship, I don't have an outlet for my inherent masochism. Would you
consider teaching me that trick for ignoring pain?"

Yi curiously inquires, "Which Rite?" The question gets directed to Trevor
and Alicia both, though Salem's request outbids her for answer priority.

Signe grabs the chips and looks between those mentioning Get cubs. Her
eyebrows creep up, showing her intrigue. The fight club thing makes her
snort though. "cubs learning from cubs how to fight? More'n likely they're
teaching each other little more than how to deal with bloody noses. Not
saying I dislike the idea completely, but they need real teachers."

"Rite of Spirit Awakening." Trevor tells Yi, looking over to Signe. "I don't
think they're really learning how to fight, just getting the oppertunity to
do so and practice what they learn from their teachers. Emma figured it
would be a good way of getting pent up energy out and curing boredom."

"Well, I think its more of an outlet than anything." Alicia says with a nod
of her head. "Honestly.. there isn't a strong Get influence here, and Emma
is itching for it. James can only do so much by himself really, and now that
Erika is here, she's helping out too." She nods her head.

"But, I think if you stayed... wow. You'd totally whip this place into
shape. We were just talking about needing a Wyrm Foe." She grins, then
glances to Salem. "Resisting Pain? Right-O. We can start on that."

Yi smirks. "Perhaps the champion wins a free beating from an elder." In
response to Trevor, she nods. "I've been looking to find someone to learn
the rite of cleansing from. It seems like knowledge that every Garou should
have, whatever the auspice."

Tabia mutters, "Damn. I wish _I_ could do that. I wanna learn gifts 'n shit,
too." Then, to Signe, "It's not s'posed t'replace teachin'. But it's a
chance t'practice what ya learn. I mean, if you're as good as she says,"
indicating Alicia, "you'd beat me in t'the ground 'fore I could blink, if I
was learnin' from ya. That's good f'r learnin' from, not so good f'r
practicin' f'r a real fight."

"Whenever's convenient," Salem replies to Alicia.

Signe snorts at alicia's fawning, but nods to the comments about the cubs
and the club. "Good. That's the attitude to have. Hopefully, after I talk
with Jame, I'll get a chance to meet the cubs." the mention of Erika makes
the she-Get grin again. "How is Erika?"

Alicia chuckles at Tabia. "She's way better then I am." She cants her head
over to Salem. "How 'bout.." She ponders. "Tomorrow night sometime?"

Commenting on the lack of Get influence, Trevor adds "Yeah, she's always
asking me to tell her tails of her ancestors and famous Get. I may be a
Galliard, but it's still not quite the same."

Signe munches on a chip, her dark-eyed gaze settling on Trevor. It's a
studious stare that sometimes makes its subjects uneasy. "No, I expect not,"
she says in answer to him. Did I miss it, or did you not give me your name,
kid?"

Salem nods to Alicia. "I'll free up my calendar."

Tabia thinks of something, and looks to Alicia, "Hey, you can dedicate shit,
right? Need t'get my slingshot done, if that's cool?"

Yi on that note also nods at Tabia. "The same to you, Tabia. I may be able
to teach you about knife fighting and overall things of our moon, but you
will have to find someone to teach you about your tribe."

Alicia chuckles slightly. "Typically sling shots or.. other... objects
outside of clothing and ancestorial weapons don't get dedicated."

"But it will not be wise to dedicate stones for your sling shot," Yi makes
mention.

Trevor merely stares back. He's got enough confidence not to be cowed into
unease. "Trevor Sings-To-Spirits, Cliath Galliard of the Fianna." He
replies.

Tabia nods to Yi. "From who? I mean, Seeker's doin' that Strider walkin'
'round thing most a' the time, an' Sepdet's just a name I've heard. Gonna be
a cub f'rever, 'cause there's no one t'teach me that stuff, an' t'rite me
even if someone does. An' I need it done -- it's a weapon. Gonna be the one
I use most. Good f'r creatin' distractions an' f'r takin' people down both."

Salem's pants-pocket makes ringing noises, distracting him from the
conversation. The Walker Elder excuses himself and heads into a
less-occupied section of the house.

[Phone call.  From someone good.  He shows back up just as dinner is being
put on the table.]

Alicia starts placing plates on the table, followed by cups, humming softly
to herself. "Take a seat guys." She says with a grin.

Salem returns from errand his cellphone called him away to, his steps brisk
and light.

Aubrey smiles towards Trevor. "Congrats!" she says, grinning happily.
"Welcome to the family of Hidden Walk, bro." She grabs a plate and begins
helping herself to the food lined out on the table, counter-space and still
on the oven rack. Her eyes look up towards Salem, giving him a light nod of
her head.

Standing at 5'6" is the mid-teen named Karl. He has borrowed Raul's
trademark of /brightly/ bleached blonde hair and tanned skin. Now that the
cheap imitation-Raul coat and the layer of grime are gone, it's much clearer
to distinguish the boy's own form and features (that suggest the bookish
'computer geek' type), even if artificially darker. Even Karl's oversized
blue jeans are gone, and are replaced by neat, clean, 'military green'
cargos, which are only /one/ size too big, but thanks to drawstrings, fit
snuggly at the hips. A bland brown tee can be seen if his black hooded
tracksuit jacket isn't zipped up. It keeps him warm, but its sleeves are a
little on the conservative side and don't quite cover his wrists as they
should. A pair of scuffed sneakers, a shade of white, have been cleaned up
pretty darn well and protect his feet.

Doc has arrived.

The young woman before you stands at 5'6". A compact woman, muscular, who
appears stocky rather than svelte, but she's obviously in great shape.
Short, honey colored hair spikes up around her head, held back by a black
headband. Intense hazel eyes stay on the verge of a narrowed glare at nearly
all times, holding more green than anything else but softening to grey or
blue, very occasionally, when their owner relaxes a bit. She has a patrician
nose and a strong stubborn jawline; not exactly pretty but rather somewhat
statuesque. Her skin is a slight olive color, looking prone to tan. She's
dressed in yellow wind pants with a wide black stripe down each leg, a black
tank top and a pair of sneakers that may have seen better days. Completely
covering her left hand and causing her to move it with careful stiffness is
a livid acid burn scar.

Luke was about to get plates and such for himself, but if Alicia's serving,
well, hard to argue with that. He sits down, relaxing in one of the chairs.
Of course, he already knew _that_ news, but still, "And today you can give
thanks for that. And so can we, because I'd say we're lucky to have you."

In a rare show of enthusiasm, Haley (Doc) comes bounding into the room. "Oh
/wow/," she says brightly when she takes in the feast has seemingly sprouted
there as if by magic.

Karl takes a seat and is about to say something to Trevor when he eyes
Salem. He studies the familiar form and... just wonders. Maybe he'll stay
quiet for now.

Salem arches an eyebrow. "It seems," the recently-shorn Walker notes as he
casts an eye over the spread, "that my timing is impeccable." He returns
Aubrey's nod, then looks over the group, his gaze lingering somewhat on
Karl.

Smiling, Trevor takes a seat that's near to both Aubrey's and Luke's. "I can
ndeed, Righ."

Alicia nods her head and flops down into a seat, glancing around at the five
turkey's and the mountains of potatos and stuffing. "Awesome." She says,
rubbing her hands together. "This rocks. Thanks for showing up guys. I hope
yer' appetites have also."

From afar, to the room, Alicia kinda tosses the scene out for everyone. Five
turkeys, stuffing, potatos, dozens of pies, biscuits (Careful, Yi made
those), salad that Trevor created. You name it, its there. :) About a grand
worth of food. EAT UP.

Salem shifts his gaze from Karl to Alicia and flashes her a rare smile.
Then, apparantly at his ease, he takes a seat at the table.

Luke grins at Alicia. "When've you known me _not_ to have an appetite?
Especially with your cooking? Only question is whether I'll be able to move
when I'm done eating or not."

Alicia can't help but grin at the compliment. "I doubt it. You guys better
leave room for dessert." She teases, then motions to the Egg Nog.

Tabia looks around and she comes back in the room. "Was bettin' it'd be done
by now, an' looks like I was right. Hey, all."

Aubrey looks to Trevor while she sits down at the table with her food.
"Would you be willing to go with me into the umbra soon, then?" she asks the
Galliard. "Whenever you're ready to make the trip, you let me know."

Luke notes to Trevor and Aubrey, "Might wait a few more days, just to play
it safe."

Nodding, Trevor smiles happily. "As soon as you think it wise." he replies,
a nod being given to the Righ for his advice.

Doc finds herself a seat next to Karl, sort of unobtrusively. She starts
filling up a plate with a very contented expression on her face, giving Karl
a light nudge of greeting and another grin.

Jamethon slides open the door with his shoulder, held in his arms are two
large paper bags with sounds of clanking aluminum and glass eminating from
within. Ducking his head down to step inside, the large Get slides the door
closed behind him and offers to the gathered, "I give thanks for booze,"
adding with a smile, "Who thinks they can out drink me?"

Alicia lifts up a pair of fingers and waves it over to James. "I gotcha
number right here." She says teasingly.

Salem gives Doc a curious look as he helps himself to portions of
thanksgiving-food, one eyebrow raised; someone he doesn't recognize.
Jamethon's arrival distracts the Walker from his study, and he smiles
crookedly.

Tabia looks over to Jamethon as he arrives. "Since you're big enough t'be
'bout three a' me, you gonna drink three t'one a' mine?"

Karl smiles back at Haley but it soon fades upon Jamethon's entry. If he's
drinking, that could make things easier...

Jamethon Ethan Black is a good size of a man, about five or six inches above
six feet and looking to have about two hundred and ninety or so pounds on
him as well, most of this being muscle. His normally thick and unshaven
beard has been for once cleared away from his now clean shaven face, which
is a mask of concentration most times, dancing black eyes that always seem
to be peering forward yet still seeing all around him. Long black hair with
the beginnings of greying fading into view, cascades down his back, wild in
form and hanging to just below his waist. He isn't too fond of dressing
stuffily it seems, for all that James wears is a clean t-shirt under a
pristine brown leather jacket, and a pair of loose but well-fitted black
sweatpants, the shoes on his feet are but cork sandles. Under his t-shirt,
covered up and only visible when the fabric of his shirt has been removed,
on his chest is a massive scar, fleshy and tortured like an old third-degree
burn. A large myriad collection of scars adorn his visage at other various
points as well.

Aubrey smiles to Trevor and Luke. "Of couse," she says. "I am not going to
rush things along anymore than they should. We are not in need of him in a
hurry." She picks at her food, eatting properly like a young lady. Her eyes
look up to Jamethon, "Hey." she says to the Get.

Luke offers the Fury a warm smile, "See, Guardian duty has a few perks to
it. Happy Thanksgiving, Doc."

Someone comes in through front, screen door closing behind them softly. It's
a slightly winded Lyra, arms around her middle to hold in all the bulges in
her sweatshirt. She resembles a pregnant porcupine. "Heard there was a
Thanksgiving dinner," she says breathlessly, and grins. "But I'm not late."

Jamethon steps towards the counter, finding a place to set the large bags
down and starts removing a few six packs of beer with german writing on the
labels, bottles of vodka and rum, and five golden shot 'glasses'. "Yo,
bitch," he remarks looking directly at Karl, "Could you put the beer away?"
It seems to be a friendly request, with a little twist obviously. Once the
order is given he looks back towards Tabia. "Hell no. Challenges are fair
for all involved. No handicaps. You earn your badges at battle of the beer
with honor damnit."

Alicia grins wryly at James and nods her head to him, reaching over to hand
him a plate.

"Your words are brave, warrior, but you are no Fianna." Trevor winks at
Jamethon. "I'll accept your challenge."

"Happy thanksgiving, Luke." Doc tells Luke warmly. "Everyone," she adds. She
does a double take at 'yo bitch' but as it is not aimed at her she lets it
be. And she stays quiet when drinking contests are being arranged. Finally
piling her plate up to her satisfaction, she murmurs a quick Thanks to Gaia
and then digs in.

"You're just in time," Salem tells the newly-arriving Bone Gnawer with a dry
tone of voice. Then he points a fork at Trevor. "Ah. Point of order.
Jamethon, will you allow the use of Gifts in this challenge? The Fianna are
known to be able to... cheat... in this regard." His words are pure
Halfmoon, Judge-worthy.

Karl is a little uneasy, but says to Doc, "Save my seat," as he rises from
the table to put the beer away.

Jamethon gestures with a hand towards the various liquors as Trevor takes
the challenge, "Choose... and choose wisely." As Salem asks the question,
"I'll leave that to Trevor's honor... I'm sure the Fianna have the balls to
play this game without party tricks." An eye is quirked towards Trevor,
"...or do they?"

Aubrey chuckles softly underneath her breath as she drinks her beer,
mumbling something under her breath about honor. "Challenge? We have a
challenge?" she replies. "I can hold my liqour... but not enough for the
likes of you two. Pity being a light weight." Aubrey smiles and eats her
food as she looks around her. Her nose wiggles up in disgust as she looks to
Salem, although she is still smiling. "Smart you are, Walker."

Lyra waddles over to the counter, looking for some clear space to unload her
bulges...she finds a corner underneath the cupboard and starts pulling
pinecones out of her pockets and sweatshirt. "Do they still smell nice?" she
asks, somewhat concerned, sticking it under Karl's nose when he gets close
enough.

Luke says, not nearly so solemn as he tries to pretend, "That's a serious
charge, Salem, accusing a Fianna of cheating in a drinking contest. You
might just have to be in on the challenge, saying something like that."

Alicia grins wryly over to Lyra and waves her over, then scoots closer to
James, clearing her throat. "Well, if there is no trickery in place. I may
come in second." She says, rubbing her hands together.

Tabia laughs. "Well, then I'll bow t'my elder's superior guzzlin' ability.
Do need t'ask you a favor, though. Was hopin' you could call up Owl for me.
Seeker's always doin' the Strider thing, so I'm never gonna get Rited here.
Yi suggested I talk t'you 'bout gettin' with Owl, then get someone t'take me
t'nother sept t'get the Striders there t'Rite me."

"The contest would be no contest if the Fianna can use their Gift," Salem
counters. "But if you're willing to meet me _fairly_ on the field of battle,
I'll accept."

"Stag's Children have no need for party tricks. Let honor be satisfied, no
Gifts!" Trevor proclaims, reaching for the vodka.

Karl pauses to sniff the pinecone under his nose. "Uh... yeah? I guess
so..." Then goes back to putting the beer in the fridge, of course leaving
out enough for the challenge to begin.

Jamethon nods over to Tabia in a slightly dismissive fashion, "Yes yes of
course, cub." The Get of Fenris remains standing and sets a shot glass
before Alicia, one before Salem, another in front of Trevor, then one before
himself. This accomplished he regards the rest of the group, "There is one
shot glass remaining... any more takers?"

Lyra beams and digs string out of her jeans pockets, and goes about tying
pinecones to doorknobs and cupboard handles, and anything else a pinecone
can be tied to. "A drinking contest?" She glances over disapprovingly. "Now
that's not very dignified at all, is it?"

"Lyra, its Thanksgiving, its almost tradition. Chow down, fill yer tummy and
laugh at us while we're drunk." Alicia grins. "That or join us and take a
shot glass."

Doc pops a piece of turkey into her mouth, eyeing the shotglass in a very
speculative manner. She chews. She swallows. She eyes the shotglass some
more and opens her mouth again. Quickly she fills it with more turkey.

Erika takes a step into the kitchen from the front of the house, she stands
at the doorway to scan the room. As she sees her pack and most importantly
the elder of her tribe, she gives a faint nod of her head. The Philodox
looks hardly in a good mood, if in amy mood at all. Her stare is quite
descriptively blank. Maybe getting the half-moon drunk wouldn't be a bad
idea. "I hate holidays..." she complains under her breath.

Luke says "Think we're good to go. Cubs don't need to be involved, and Doc's
serving as Guardian." Looking to Lyra, "We're giving thanks. Doesn't always
have to be dignified."

"Gluttony and gratitude," says Salem languidly, between bites. No, he
doesn't talk with his mouth full. "The two pillars of Thanksgiving Day."

Doc nods solemnly and stops eyeing the shotglass. Guardian! That helps her
make the decision and she goes back to eating, which she does, after all,
with great abandon. Nobody has ever accused Haley of not having enough of an
appetite, after all.

"Since my honor has been called into question, if no other shall join us, I
shall take the extra glass myself." Trevor proclaims, quite seriously.
Although perhaps his honor is merely an excuse for more drinking.

The Gnawerphilo shakes a pinecone at Alicia. "Mahahne, I remember the last
time you and 'Nee tried to get me sloshed- no thankyou. Someone's got to
stay sober and be ready to resuscitate the losers."

Alicia chuckles slightly. "Got a camcorder out in the living room if anyone
wants to capture all of this for memories down the road." She says, running
her fingertip along the outside of the shot glass.

"The Sept Alpha doesn't have a shotglass," Salem notes, deadpan.

Tabia frowns a bit at the dismissal from Jamethon. He may not think much of
it, but this is important to _her_. Still, nothing she can do right now, so
she loads up her plate, then starts for the back door. Not going to stick
around for this, despite the potential for amusement.

"Fuckit," Aubrey says. She had eatten a good fill of food already, why not
get wasted while she is at it. "I'm in. All us Fianna have to stick together
in this." The Theurge smiles impishly.

"I'm sure he's got one set aside for me, though. He better, anyway," Luke
mock-threatens.

Jamethon grabs the shot glass that Trevor is about to claim and sets it
aside, "Bull shit Fianna boy. I don't wanna hear any whining when you lose
about having to drink twice as much." Salem's words seems to spark something
in his eyes though, "You're right Salem..." But then Aubrey joins in and
James shrugs, "The Gatekeeper in training takes the bait." The last glass
being given to Aubrey, James opens the black vodka bottle and passes it
around under the noses of the participants... no scent what so ever, even
less so then the smell water usually has. "Satisfied with the quality?"

Alicia can't help but grin. "That rocks, James. You got the good stuff." She
says in a teasing drawl as she pops a piece of turkey into her mouth, eyeing
the Get.

"Oh my goodness." Lyra just shakes her head, tying the last of the
cinnamon-and-woods smelling pinecones to the back of someone's chair. "Is
there any sparkly about to drink?" she asks as she reaches over shoulders to
pick a bit of skin off the turkey and pop it in her mouth.

Salem flashes his teeth in a savage-looking grin that's all the more wolfish
on his narrow face. It soon melts into a smug expression that's worthy of an
ex-Shadow Lord. "You've doomed yourself with your choice of poison,
Fenrir-Son."

Smiling at the smell, Trevor nods. "We'll see who winds up losing." he grins
at Jamethon.

Karl was happily standing by the counter watching things heat up, but at the
mention of a drink for Lyra, he opens the fridge again to peer scan for the
soft stuff. "What'll you have, Lyra?"

Erika pauses at the door, watching everyone silently. The half-moon, after a
few minutes, then meanders her way carefully through the crowd to avoid
bumping into anyone. She makes herself a quick sandwich and grabs a full
glass of milk from out of the fridge. "G'evening Jamethon," she mutters as
she passes him. Her eyes look to Salem, seeming to want to speak to him
about something important but because of such festivities which will later
envolve into forgetfulness, she saves what she was going to say until later.

Luke eats a few bites of turkey and some of the biscuits after sniffing.
Grinning to Salem, "Doomed himself, maybe." Obviously, not convinced that
the Fianna are so easily discounted.

The Gnawerphilo chews thoughtfully, weaving around Erika to peek over Karl's
shoulder. "Nobody got sparkly?" she asks disappointedly. "Y'know, anything
non-alcoholic. Come in fancy bottles and are the champagne for dry people
like me?"

If nothing else, there's Egg Nog on the table. More creamy than sparkly,
though.

"Got cider in the fridge." Alicia calls over as she props her chin up in the
palm of her hand.

Aubrey grins at Jamethon. "Hey, don't think that I cannot hold as much
liqour as you." The Fianna chuckles faintly. "You never know." She takes the
glass from whomeever passes it along to her (for by the time she receives
one she cannot remember who passed it to her). She stuffs a portion of
stuffing into her mouth.

Jamethon looks towards Alicia as he starts pouring a drink for each of the
participants. "Did I ever tell you Salem, the Sept from which I came, the
Mountain's Heart, had only Get of Fenris... and Shadow Lords. There were
moots I don't remember, then later ones I do. I think you should be more
weary of your choice of opponents then /you/ think you should be." Now with
the glasses poured he sets the bottle down, and it is a sizable bottle as it
seems that even with six shots poured, its not missing that much liquor. He
seems to ignore further comments and lifts his glass up, "For the glory of
life." He waits for the others to raise their cups before downing the first
shot.

Olga appears at the door, leaning against the frame, mostly unnoticed amidst
the holiday feast hustle-and-bustle. She got a slight grin on her face and
glances around at everything that's happening. She's not entered quiet yet,
but it doesn't look like it'll take much prompting.

Doc finishes her first plate and quietly goes for a second one, piling it
every bit as high as the first. She also pours herself a glass of egg nog,
watching the festivities.

"For life." Alicia says, knocking it back quickly with a fluid ease, then
stamps the shot glass onto the table, creating a wooden thud. She licks her
lips and grins, chin tilting upwards a bit.

Luke raises his glass, "For life!" Downing the first shot only a moment
later.

Salem lifts his glass, saying only, "We'll see," to the big male Get. His
eyebrows twitch upward toward his stubbled scalp, he smirks, then easily
downs the shot.

"For life!" Trevor downs the drink, bringing the glass down with a pleasing
thud.

Tabia pauses on her way to the door with her plate of food as someone else
comes in, and when she sees that it's Olga, turns around and heads over
toward her. "Hey, wanted t'talk t'you."

Aubrey raise her shot glass as the others do the same. "For life!" she
chants before downing the drink.

Olga nods to Tabia with a smile as the Cub heads over. "Looks like y' got
quite a party goin' here, eh?" she observes. She looks at her with a smile,
mutely asking what she wants, eyes often straying to the great big turkey on
the table.

Jamethon sets his glass back on the table with a grin that seems to revel in
the taste, and gestures to Alicia at his right then to the bottle. "Your
turn, a pour and a toast."

Erika picks her way around the food stuff. The half-moon Fenrir doesn't
bother with using a plate, she is too uncivilied for that sort of thing.
Plus, she is in a hurry to get back out to the woods. She simply rolls her
eyes at Jamethon and the others as she passes, reaching towards the oven to
grab out a few bread rolls.

Tabia grins wryly at the Gnawer, "Quit lookin' an' start eatin', otherwise
you'll be too distracted t'talk t'me, an' it's a serious question." Taking
her own advice, she starts going at the food on her plate.

Reaching over, Alicia takes the bottle up and glances to each of them,
chuckling to herself. One by one the glasses get filled to the brim of the
strong, Russian Vodka. With a lick of her lips, she smiles slightly, then
lifts up her glass to all at the table. "To Family, those who sit around
each other at this table, casting all differences aside, and enjoying a shit
load of turkey." With that, she knocks it back, swallowing easily.

"Cider's splendid," Lyra beams, grabbing it herself from under Karl's arm
and pouring herself a cup. She watches over the rim of the glass as the
toasts start, sneaking a roll into her hand somehow.

Luke declares, "Family!" as he downs this second shot. Still no visible
effect, though that's to be expected for the first several, however strong
the vodka may be.

Karl pours a glass of cider himself, taking it with him as he meanders his
way back to his seat, and piling food on his plate, watching the challengers
with a big smile.

"Amen," Salem says in that same languid, half-serious tone, and swallows the
second shot. Damned if the dour bastard isn't enjoying himself.

"Family!" Trevor echoes, slammng it down. He takes a big bite of turkey
afterwards.

Jamethon growls out a gruff voice, "To a fuck load of turkey!" This done,
the second shot excavates his throat and the glass once more slams down onto
the table. The drinkers may notice that the shot glasses aren't actually
glass, but feel like actual gold.

"To Family!" Aubrey says with enthusiasm. She smiles at those around her
drinking and swallows the vodka, feeling it burn on the way down her throat.
She gives a light narrowing of her eyes, although remains with a pleasent
smile across her lips.

Olga laughs and smiles, tussling Tabia's hair. "Thanks," she says to her
with a grin, and searches the cupboards for a plate. As soon as she finds
one, she heads to the turkey and acquires one mammoth piece of it, finding a
seat and digging in.

Grinning, Alicia passes the bottle onto Salem, nodding her head. "Yer' next
boss." She drawls lazily, obviously having the time of her life.

Erika continues to poke around at the food, ignoring everyone else like the
anti-socialite that she is.

Salem inclines his head as he accepts the bottle and stands up to pour. His
plate, mostly empty by now, gets pushed aside. Sitting down, he lifts his
shotglass, pauses a moment in thought, then offers up, "To absent friends,
gone to Gaia." He glances at Alicia as he says this.

Tabia continues to nibble the food on her plate. Unlike Doc, she doesn't
pack it away like someone else is going to eat it off her plate if she
doesn't. "Ought t'talk t'you, too," she tells the Fury, "since Emma says
you're wantin' us t'join your pack, once we Rite."

Salem, his toast said, drains his glass for the third time, unhesitatingly.

"To absent friends.. " Alicia says softly in return, returning Salem's look,
then holds up her glass, taking it back quickly, slamming it once more onto
the table. "For Roger." She murmurs softly, licking her lips clean.

"Absent friends, gone to Gaia." Again Trevor's glass is drained, but this
time his voice is a reverential murmur and the glass comes down with a soft
thud.

Doc grunts and looks uncomfortable with everyone in the room hearing all
about it, but finishes her last bite and pushes away from the table.  
"Yeah," the taciturn Fury says. "Porch?" All this loud exuberence isn't
exactly her cup of egg nog. She whisks her empty plate to the sink, gets
another glass of the aforementioned egg nog, and slips out. She doesn't seem
upset or anything, mind. She actually seems quite content.  But a reserved
person like her is not exactly at home smack dab in the middle of a drinking
contest.

Luke is a little slower to drink this glass, more solemn with it. "Absent
friends," he echoes. Still, it's gone in one gulp, even if the shotglass is
placed more gently on the table afterward.

"To friends gone to Gaia," Aubrey says soberly, although with an expression
of throughfulness. She takes the shot dignified and looks across to Jamethon
for a moment before setting the shot glass down.

Lyra smiles softly, although it's a little sad. "To friends moved on to
other places," she murmurs, holding out her cider for a moment before
downing the last few gulps.

Jamethon looks at his shot for a longer period of time then even Luke, "To
those who've fallen before us." The next shot goes down slower and longer
than the rest, letting himself really taste it. Setting the glass down he
waits for the next one to be poured.

Tabia nods to Doc. "Porch's good." She's quite at home in the crowd, but
would rather talk business somewhere quieter. Looking to Olga, "Welcome
t'join us, when you've got a plate-load." She carries her plate in that
direction, so she can continue to nibble on it.

Tabia passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.
Tabia has left.

Salem inhales a deep breath, nostrils flaring, then passes the bottle over
to Trevor, wordlessly.

Doc slides open the door in the kitchen, passing through into the back yard.

In the front rooms, Tabia leaves through the front door. You can hear the
screen door swing shut again with a clatter.

Erika finishes with poking around the food and grabs some desserts on her
way out the door. "Heading back on patrol," she murmurs. If anyone really
seems to care at all. Then, without any answer, Erika heads out towards the
back.

"Happy thanksgiving Erika." Alicia calls over to the Get with a big grin on
her face.

Taking the bottle, the Galliard pours. When he's done, he lifts his glass
and proclaims "To Homecomings." As he says this, his look is particularly
for Aubrey and Luke.

Olga barely hears Tabia's invitation, so intent is she on food. She tears
away at her turkey, nearly choking herself. "Beer," she concludes, leaving
her place and stumbling towards the fridge.

Karl cleans up the scraps on his plate and is undecided whether he should
follow Doc and Tabe, or continue eating. He decides he'll attack a turkey
while they're still here...

"To homecomings." Alicia says as she takes up the fourth shot glass, raising
it upwards, then downing the liquid once again, swallowing swiftly. She
closes her eyes for a moment, then places it back down once more.

Luke smiles as he raises his glass to this one. "To homecomings," the Fianna
repeats, tone warm and friendly. Leaning back in his chair slightly as he
puts this glass down, relaxed.

"To homecomings," echoes the oft-prodigal Glass Walker. Salem once again
drains his glass, his expression cat-satisfied.

Draining his own glass with his fellows, Trevor passes the bottle to Aubrey
once everyone is done.

Jamethon takes the next one jovially enough, moods shifting rather quickly
as he calls out, "To coming home," as he downs the next shot and sets it
down with a loud clank as it hits the table.

[OOC Note: At around this time we all agree to do some dice rolling to make
things... interesting.  Each round, stamina is rolled (with the option of
spending a willpower point.  Difficulty started at 7 and went up each other
round until it maxed at 9.  Failure got 1 point, botch 2.  Hit 5 and
participant goes down.  For fun, I've included the scores each round.]

[Dice were rolled by Alicia in an AIM chat room, witnessed by yours truly.]

The younger of the two Fianna Theurges grins. "To homecomings," she says
before downing her toast to Tevor. Then, taking the bottle, she replenishes
everyone's shot-glasses. "To good spirits!" she raises the toast and takes
the shot glass just as feveriously as her words.

"There is a solid *knock* *knock* on the door before a man steps into the
house, the sounds of drunkards and rogues making friendly with the spirits
(of liquid kind) assail the good doctors ears. A bright, glaringly bright
orange beret is swooshed off of the head in a smooth motion and a quick look
around to see who is here gets a smile as at least a few people are
recognized. "Allo... am I too late?" Ah yes, it seems that Alec has come
back as well. And just in time it seems.

Jamethon looks back over his shoulder towards Alec and grins, "Ah, the good
doctor. We've already started... but maybe next time." He turns around and
offers to the group, "To a theurge's best friend, good spirit indeed!" The
next drink goes down and he seems to steady himself alright before setting
the glass down, still well in control of himself as he looks to Luke to give
the final toast of this 'round' of drinking.

"Good Spirits!" Trevor echoes, placing the glass down. He seems alright, but
takes a few large bits of food.

The next drink goes down and Alicia puts it on the table. She takes a moment
to gather herself, then slowly lets out a breath. Soon, she begins bobbing
her head. "Man that is good shit. To Spirits."

"To good spirits," Salem says before draining his glass. Is that a Slavic
hint in his voice? Could be the imagination. He's still doing well and is in
control.

Olga flings open the fridge door and grabs herself a can of beer, quickly
opening it and washing down her turkey with great big gulps. She sighs
happily and wipes off whatever dribble there is with a sleeve, turning to
watch the competition with a grin on her face.

Luke laughs. "To spirits! Both kinds!" Down the hatch, and slammed back to
the table.

Long distance to the room: Salem keeps score. Alicia and Luke are down 2,
Trevor down 1, everyone else A-OK.

Karl finishes off his second helping and takes his half-glass of cider and
his empty plate with him to the sink, before taking one last look at the
competition and heading out into the living room.

A laugh escapes Alec's lips as he sees what is going on. "Oy Jesu. If I
wanted to see the binge drinking I would have stayed in Ireland." He finds a
chair, fairly out of the way of everyone, just in case, you never know. The
uniform did just get dry cleaned.

Salem catches sight of Alec and gives the good doctor a pleased smile and a
lifted-glass (empty right now, but not for long) salute of greeting.

Luke takes the bottle, pouring for everyone, before raising his glass. "To
our victories, small and large," the Fianna toasts, waiting for the others
before he downs it.

Taking up the sixth shot, Alicia cheers out. "To our victories! Fuck the
Wyrm!" And then knocks it back swiftly.

"To victories! Fuck /all/ Gaia's enemies!" Trevor's voice rings out,
slamming the glass down.

Jamethon nods to this and with gusto swings his arm forward, "To kicked his
ass all the way down into the fuckin' pit he spawned from," then back to his
lips to down the sixth shot... suprisingly none was spilt in the process.
The bottle, now a little more then half way down finally comes back to James
who quickly refills the groups glasses as each are set down.

Aubrey looks to Alec and smiles. "An Irishman is never drunk as long as he
can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth," Aubrey
says with a grin. "My father used to tell me that saying all the time
growin' up." Then she turns to make a toast, addes with the downing of more
liqour. "Fuck 'em!"

"To our victories," Salem says, not shouting but with enthusiasm. Another
shot gets kicked back and swallowed. Victory indeed.

You paged the room with 'Luke 3, Alicia 2, Trevor 1, everyone else OK.'.

Jamethon pages to the room: Keep in mind, that is OK as far as staying up
right... we're all good and intoxicated at this point. :)

You paged the room with 'Oh fuck yes. Very drunk.'.

"Indeed." Alec's smile is bright, if a little distant, but then he shakes
his head and figures that there should be something still left to eat. He
meanders off for a moment to go and make a sandwich.

Luke, the last of the group to toast, offers the bottle back to James.
"You're back up," he tells his packmate.

Salem leans back in his chair, his relaxed posed more sincerely relaxed. His
grin is not just crooked but lopsided, roguish. Give him an eyepatch and
he'd be a perfect pirate.

With the glasses poured James raises his cup and offers, "To the coming war,
and to its victor, Gaia." This stated the Get elder tips back the next
drink, closing his eyes as it quickly slides down his throat spreading
warmth on its way.

"To the war!" Alicia says with a grin, thrusting her drink up in the air,
then swallowing it down. She looks... excited, to say the least, if not a
bit giddy. She is nearly purrring in her seat as she clears her throat. "Oh
man.. I feel bad for the bathroom after all of this."

Olga finds her place again, beer in hand. She returns to eating her turkey,
a little more slowly, more carefully this time, but that's only relatively
speaking. She leans back in her chair and watches, grinning.

"War!" Trevor sounds like the the most bloodthirsty Fenrir, clearly a little
gone.

Luke raises his not entirely steady hand to join th toast, "To the war, and
to Gaia!" It's taking a little more conscious control to do the drinking
properly, now.

"To the war!" Salem's slur has a definite Slavic edge to it now; the Walker
echoes the toast almost as Trevor does his, and he chugs the shot with a
fierce, toothy grin.

Aubrey licks her wet lips and raises up her toasting glass again. "Victory
to Gaia!" Aubrey heralds spiritly. There isn't that much of a personality
change with Aubrey, although she looks a little more drowsy with
intoxication than she had previously.

You paged the room with 'Luke 4, Alicia 3, Trevor 1, Jamethon 1, Salem 0,
Aubrey 0.'.

Alec returns with a plateful of food, an upturned lip in amusement at the
metric crapload of food for eating. And the thought of how much is going to
make it's way back to this Earth. From the same place it disappeared into.
All this... righteous anger does at least appeal to the warrior in Alec. He
grabs a seat near one of the non-participants and begins to tuck-in.

".. Woo..." Alicia drawls out, her street slang thick. "Holy.. shit. Yo.
Dat's some.. damn.. " She shakes her head. "Yah." She starts to pour the
glasses, this time a bit closer as its her turn to toast. "Oh.. er... Ha..
to Pie.. which we won't be eating after we throw our guts up after this."
She raises up her shot glass.

Olga perks her ears up at the mention of pie, but decides to be good and
wait until after dinner. She leans over to Alec, who's sitting beside.
"Who's your money on?" she asks, conspiratorially.

Lyra, from the safety of the fridge corner, shakes her head. "Oh my
goodness," she murmurs, eating her roll.

Jamethon takes the glass up in his hand once the drink is poured and shrugs
with a laugh, "Sure, why not? To pie!" The shot is thrown back, an audiable
clicking sound might indicate to the people sitting at the table that James
nailed a tooth or two with the glass as he took the shot and his following
grimace notes that he did not enjoy the sensation.

Alicia knocks the shot back with a straight face, then puts the glass down
gently on the table. Most of her ethusiasm burnt out, but, she's still in
it.

Salem's quiet laugh comes easily. "To pie. Pecan, especially." The Glass
Walker is still going strong, and continues to do so as he drains his glass.

"Pie! Pie!" Trevor yells, apparently having got the impression this is a
drinking and yeling contest, before slamming his glass down.

"Yum, to pie!" Aubrey chants as she drowns her drink and slams it against
the table auditably.

Luke declares loudly, "To pie, and to room for dessert!" His voice is
definitely slurring now, though he's still on his feet (or seat) for the
time being.

You paged the room with 'Luke 4, Alicia 3, Trevor 1, Jamethon 2, Salem 0,
Aubrey 1.'.

The halfmoon Gnawer rolls her eyes and weaves around them, taking a napkin
and loading it with leftover turkey and bread before slipping out into the
living room to finish her meal in relative quiet.

Salem pushes to his feet, leaning against the table a bit, and carefully
pours vodka into the six shot glasses. Then he raises his. "To the Lady of
Mirrors," he states grandly. "To Chimera." He tosses back the drink.

You paged the room with 'Luke 4, Alicia 3, Trevor 1, Jamethon 2, Salem 0,
Aubrey 1. Everyone passed this round. :) Keep track of your willpower
scores, folks. ;)'.

"To chimera." Alicia says, throwing the drink back, then swallows. She leans
back into her chair, eyes bugging out. Must not close them, must not fall
asleep!

Jamethon seems very interested in that one, "To the silver-faced wisdom of
the Lady Chimera." He tosses this one back with a gusto, the drink barly
having a second to last in his mouth on the way down.

Luke doesn't even try to get to his feet, since often when drinking, that's
when you'll feel the rush most strongly -- the first time you try to stand.
"To she who watches over us! To the Lady!" he echoes.

"Chimera. Our Guide and Guardian." Trevor intones, downing the drink. The
reverence is kind of ruined by the fact his hand is a little heavy and comes
down loud.

"To Chimera!" Aubrey swallows down the shot glass and looks around at the
others. By the looks of things, a few of them might be passed out underneath
the kitchen table by morning. Aubrey gives a sigh of proudness at the toast
and nods towards the others.

Salem drops back into his chair after passing the bottle over to Trevor.

Pouring the glasses carefully, Trevor considers. "To the drink! The drink!"
he finally settles on.

"To the drink! And hopefully many more after this one!" Alicia slurs out.
"Cuz'.. damn." She takes it back and then shakes her head, grunting out a
loud breath.

"To the drink, that we remain on out feet... right." she slurrs, smiling.
She swallows the hard liqour and takes the glass for the next round.

Salem laughs aloud at this. "To the drink!" he repeats, tossing back another
shot as though he could do this all night long. Well, _most_ of the all
night long, anyway.

You paged the room with 'Luke 4, Alicia 4, Trevor 2, Jamethon 3, Salem 1,
Aubrey 1. Hmph.'.

Luke raises his glass...and nearly misses when it comes time to down it.
Someone's feeling the effects now, oh yes. Both he and Jamethon add their
toasts, and down their shots.

"To packs! May they remain united...." Aubrey toasts after she pours
everyone a new glass. She slops the liquid across her wrist, which she
hastilt licks off her skin. Then, she takes a drink of her own shot.

"UNITY!" Alicia nearly screams out, before bursting into a laugh, shakily
raising the glass upwards, then takes it back, swallowing.

Olga slowly gets to her feet with a bit of a yawn. She's eaten quite a bit
and now it's time to walk it off. She grins at that toast, though, rather
hopeful of getting into a pack herself some time not too far away. She
stretches and wanders out to fulfil her promise of meeting Tabia on the
porch, beer in hand.

Luke shouts, "To packs! United, and taking the fight to the Wyrm!" Slamming
the glass down on the table hard enough to shake the surface.

Salem wrinkles his nose a bit at this one, then shrugs and slurs an
accented, "To packs," he says, and drinks. He thunks the glass down hard on
the table and leans forward, his elbow close to his plate.

"PACKS! Our nearest and dearest!" This topic promotes an emotional response
from Trevor, and there's a tear in the corner of his eyes as he slams the
glass down.

"Packs! Defending the caern, and slaughtering the enemy!" Jamethon roars.

You paged the room with 'Luke 4, Alicia 4, Trevor 2, Jamethon 4, Salem 1,
Aubrey 2.'.

Luke takes the bottle, now, sloshing some of it on the table as he can't
quite target the glasses very well. "To Hidden Walk! Standing always, in
service to Gaia!" Yes, the glass makes it up, if not by a straight-line
course, and then it goes down, somewhat straighter.

"The the.. " Hiccup. "Hidden Walk! Th'bes' fuck'n Sept.. evah.. " Alicia
kncoks back the next round after her arm makes a swoop to swoop, then
swallows, cackling loudly.

"To the Hidden Walk! By whatever name it goes by this year!" Salem swallows
the shot and grins.

You paged the room with 'Luke 4, Alicia 4, Trevor 3, Jamethon 4, Salem 1,
Aubrey 2. Woo woo. :)'.

"Hidden Walk! Kicking ass since...wheneverthefuck!" Trevor slurs the last
slightly, slamming his glass down.

"To Hidden Walk!" Aubrey says, remaining quietly in her seat. She giggles
somewhat softly as she hears Trevor and smiles faintly.

Salem wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist and regards the others with a
smug little smile.

Jamethon toasts to Hidden Walk, and then takes the bottle, standing upright
quickly, slamming his fist down on the table as he pours the next round. "To
Fenris!" he bellows.

Bursting out in a loud laugh, Alicia roars out. "To Fenris! Woo!" And down
the hatch it goes.

Salem, the former Ahroun, echoes this. "Fenris! The fiercest bastard in the
Umbra... next to Wolverine." Swallow and BANG goes down the glass. The
Walker keeps grinning.

You paged the room with 'Luke 5, Alicia 4, Trevor 3, Jamethon 5, Salem 1,
Aubrey 4 (BOTCH). Two down!'.

"Fenris! What a warrior, SMASH THE BASTARDS!" Trevor roars out, smashing his
glass down onto the table.

Apparently, standing wasn't a very good idea for Jamethon, as when the drink
goes down, so too does the Get Theurge. He does, at least, make it back into
his seat. Better than sprawling on the floor. Luke, meanwhile, adds his own
shout, "Fenris!" Not really functional enough to get much more than that
out, but he does down the drink, and then totally misses when he tries to
put it back on the table, the glass ending up in his lap first, then on the
floor. He's not getting any refills, either, one might guess.

You paged the room with 'So... it's down to Alicia (4), Trevor (3), Bree (4)
and Salem (1).

Salem laughs aloud, a barking 'HA!' as both the Get elder and the Fianna
elder drop out of the competition, the sound punctuated by a slam of his
palm against the table top. "Who's next?"

Bursting out into a loud laugh, Alicia watches the Sept Alpha and the Get go
down, then squints her eyes, bobbing and weaving as she looks at Salem. "Two
down..." *hic* "Well.. I guess I'll .. toast this to .. the drunk! Cuz'..
We're a buncha idiots for playing this game." She says with a sloppy grin,
hands shaking as she fights to fill each glass up.

Once the glasses are filled, she knocks it back, leaning backwards into the
chair, hands gripping the table tightly.

"To the drunkards," Aubrey muses and gulps her drink before slamming the
shot-glass down on the table. There is no wonder that the table is now a
watery mess of vodka.

"Moon calfs all," Salem agrees. "To drunks and drunkards and well-pickled
idiots." He swallows -- How many now? He couldn't keep track if he tried. --
and bangs the glass down.

"Drunk! Drunk!" Trevor gleefully yells, apparently very pleased about having
beaten Jamethon.

You paged the room with 'Alicia 4, Trevor 4, Bree 4, and Salem 1.'.

"Sacre!" Alec exclaims after lifting his head from eating. Two down... well,
it's too bad in a way that this crowd is a little tilted against him. Would
be an interesting affair if he decided to take part in the pissup.

"I must have some real fea-blood in me yet," Aubrey giggles.

Alicia belches, then covers her mouth. "Shit. Ah' think Ah' do tae'. Iz'
like ah'm.. mo' Fianna den' mosh.. obvioushly." She grins, pointing to Luke.

"Bad night for him," Aubrey says. "Must have been drinking before he came."
The youngest Fianna Theurge grins musingly. "I've seen 'em drink before."

"I love yoush guysh." Trevor proclaims. "Righsh jush a little tied. He'll be
drink again, yoush see shoon."

"My turn, I think," Salem slurs, more or less understandably if one can get
through the thickening accent. He pours out another round and has to think a
bit before giving a toast. "To... to love. Because victory 'n war 'n all
that other shit wouldn't be worth a fucking _thing_ withou' it." He tosses
back the shot.

"Ta'love.. aww.. Salem.. yeh' big.. big.. teddy bear." Alicia says, grasping
the shot in her hand and raises it up slowly, taking back the shot, eyes
fluttering.

"Love...love!" Trevor sounds a little philosophical, and a lot drunk.

THUNK! Alicia whams her head on the table, then topples to the side, eyes
rolling backwards.

You paged the room with 'Alicia 5, Trevor 4, Bree 4, and Salem 1. Third
down! *hugs Alicia*'.

In the front rooms, Adrian comes down the stairs. In the front rooms, Adrian
goes through the aperture at the northern end of the front hallway to enter
the back room of the house. Adrian has arrived.

Alec stands up from his plate, now empty. "Now to /that/... I will have a
drink." He starts looking around for an unclaimed bottle and glass.

Luke opens his eyes, murmuring along with the toast, "LooOove..." No other
movement than that, mind you.

Adrian steps into teh room, with a smile, "Hey everyone."

Aubrey sighs and looks at her shot-glass. "To love..." she says,
reckless-abandon feelings seem to show across the Fianna's expression. She
downs the drink and looks around her to see the others still able to move it
their comatose state.

The dining area shows the ruins of Thanksgiving dinner, though there's still
plenty to eat. Three Garou are down, passed out drunk, and three are left...
though only Salem looks like he has any real staying power. There's beer and
cider, but only the contestents get to use Jamethon's special vodka.

"Kinfolk!" Trevor calls the next toast. "We'd be fucked without them, and
we're fucked with them. Or at least, we hope so." He chuckles in that way
that only drunks have at his own crude joke.

You paged the room with 'Trevor 5 and OUT, Bree 4, and Salem 1. WOO.'.

"To our kinfolk!" Salem agrees, chugging back the shot with enthusiasm. He
flashes Adrian a toothy, piratical grin, then salutes Alec with his
now-empty glass.

Luke may be out of commission, but it certainly isn't shutting him up.
"Vicki," he murmurs softly, quite easy to miss amid the general clamor of
the remaining contestants.

Adrian stands at 5'8" and appears to be around 17 years of age. His body is
starting to fill out nicely due to his well known daily routine of working
out. Though not physically imposing, it seems he could hold his own in a
scrap if needed.
 His long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail highlighting handsome,
yet delicate features. His blue eyes seem to smile as much as his lips do.
His Nordic features are difficult to miss. He's definitely growing into his
looks and becoming quite the hottie. His skin tanned from spending so much
time outside.
 A necklace of rainbow colored links adorns his neck. He wears a skin tight
black shirt, cut midhigh to show off his abs and an even tighter pair of
501's, leaving little to the imagination.

"Talking of fucked.." Trevor says after finishing his drink. "I am!" Having
announced this to the world, he promptly collapses, sprawled out over the
other fallen.

"Kinfolk! Hellya!" Aubrey cheers. "And good fuckin', hopefully." A sly grin
spreads across the Fianna's lips. She downs the drink in a hurry, trying to
get herself more drunk to forget the toast because there are certain
emotions raised on Aubrey's face.

Salem chortles at Trevor. "...Fianna. No staying power." He practically
leers at Aubrey. "Your turn, little Theurge."

Adrian moves to the table and starts picking away at getting some dinner.
"Wha'cha all doin'?

"Nngh.." Murmurs Alicia, sprawled out on the table, still clutching her
shotglass.

Alec closes his eyes and with a slight twist of his lips he looks to see who
is going to go first. Smart money is on the Walker, but you never can tell.

Aubrey clears her throat and closes her eyes as she remembers a blessing
which her father used to share during holiday time at her hose as a child.
"Here's to me, and here's to you. And here's to love and laughter- I'll be
true as long as you. And not one moment after." She picks up her glass and
downs the glass of vodka. "To love and laughter," she murmurs.

"To love 'nd laughter. Laughter 'nd love." Salem nods in approval and
swallows, closing his eyes briefly. Damn, but he's drunk a lot in a short
time.

You paged the room with 'Bree's out and I'm at 3. I win! But may throw up.
:P'.

Alicia pages to the room: See ya Aubrey. We got a winner! Who had to pass a
throw up check also :>

You paged the room with 'I am TEH DRINKING KING.'.

Trevor pages to the room: Congrats, you're an honorary Fianna!

Adrian watches quietly, a small smile on his lips.

Alicia mrrfs slightly once more from her spot on the table. She could sleep
here.

Luke places his hands on the table, and very slowly starts to get to his
feet. Shaking his head to clear it as he does so. Someone isn't about to
sleep here, and has had practice using the gift that will allow him to do
otherwise even in a state like this.

Adrian looks at Luke and laughs out loud.

Jamethon suddenly starts as some applause comes into his hearing, "Did I
win?" he asks looking around the table, a bit bleary eyed.

Alec says "Feliciations Salem...!" Alec claps his hands a bit, "Yes but I
thought you would win over all, but I did no think that the Fianna would
drop off like so many flies!"

Alicia cracks an eye open and murmurs softly. ".. I wanna hug."

Aubrey slumps against the tables, shaking her head. She may as well gever
herself sick right then and there. She hicups once or twice and lowers her
head onto her shoulders. "Five-minutes," she murrs, just like a school-kid
getting woken up for class.

Salem weaves slightly in his chair, his eyes still closed. He takes a deep
breath and lets it out, slowly, as if centering himself. After a moment, he
slurs, very carefully, "All righ'..." And opens his eyes. Looks at Aubrey.
Looks at Alec. Looks at Aubrey again. And grins, very widely, and turns his
empty shotglass upside-down. "Ha."

Adrian sees Jamethon and laughs even louder.

Salem adds, with perfect seriousness, "Go me."

Trevor can't manage to summon the Gift he needs, so he just lies there
murmuring and mumbling.

Adrian looks over at Salem and laughs a third time.

Alec eyes those he recognizes as Fianna with scorn in his eyes and trundles
off to the kitchen to find some more... mundane spirits. Returning with a
bottle of something amber and smokey and a glass of his own. With a top up
and a slight lift, "Regina!"

Adrian mutters, "Wimps..." Adrian smiles.

Salem chuckles. "Don' know why _you're_ laughin'," he drawls at Adrian,
sounding like he stepped off the boat from Russia or some eastern European
country. "Your _elder_ just got out-drunk by a damned urrah 'nd this little
thing _here_." He points at the slumped Aubrey.

Adrian says "Maybe, but I ain't my elder." Adrian laughs again.

Alicia lets out a soft breath, then.. begins to -purr- of all things, eyes
closed, thrumming in the back of her throat with a silly grin on her face.

Aubrey looks up from her arms to look at Salem, "Uh?" she asks. Her eyes
look towards Adrian, drowsily.

Jamethon seems to catch on to whats going down and a scowl is aimed at
Adrian right quickly, "I was doin jus' fine... jus' fine till, I dunno what.
I held it back too much and the shit hit all at once... ya fuckin' smug
urrah bastard." He tries to grin as he gives the jibe to the ex-everything,
but it doesn't look pretty in his current state.

Adrian laughs at Jamethon and teases in a sing song voice, "My elder is a
light weight, my elder is a light weight."

Salem leans his elbows on the table and laughs quietly at the two Get of
Fenris.

Alicia murmurs softly. "You passed out toasting ta' Fenris.. oh man." She
says in a drowsy tone, her face still buried into her arm. "Oh god.. I'm
ganna puke."

Trevor looks up and trys to focus on Adrian. "Y'r Elder's a fuckin' leg-end,
cuz he got us this booze." He then collapses again, the effort to much for
him.

Jamethon returns that scowl to Adrian, adding on a glare that speaks
silently violent volumes to the cub. "Boy, you wanna survive to reach your
fuckin' rite?"

Luke moves over to Jamethon, first, and pauses in front of him. Seeing that
he can talk (and, well, him being so damn big that he'd weigh a ton), he
moves over to Trevor. Yeah, that size is more like it. He can carry someone
that isn't built like a damn tank. Nudging the Galliard, and asking, "Want a
hand upstairs?" Noting, quite calmly, to Adrian, "Rage can shake off drunk,
at least for a minute or two. His head'll pound, and he might puke, but
won't do you any good."

Adrian steps away from Alicia fairly quick like. he grabs some more meat abd
chows down on it.

Turning to his head to look at Luke, Trevor nods. Or trys to, looking pretty
odd since his head is against the table. "YeahPleaseRigh." he mumbles
through the haze.

Salem, as smug as the proverbial cat, reaches out languidly and snags a
slice of turkey, nibbling it with a very self-satisfied air.

Adrian jumps up on the counter and munches his dinner.

Alec says "Oui, but it is good to see that one may at least come back to a
place that is full of good times." Alec's face is now approaching a regular
colour, fortified with a good meal and a stiff drink. "And one where
everyone can be together!"

"Hear, hear," says Salem in response to Alec's words.

Aubrey envokes a gift, like Luke, that sobers her from drinking. The young
woman, however, is in no condition to going through the contest all over
again. "Need help Luke?" she asks. "I think I can manage." She turns her
head towards Alec and smiles. "It's like a big family, here."

Jamethon shakes his head and notes over to Adrian, "You're on cleaning
t'night... and I never forget shit, even drunk. Don't go tryin' to get out
of it thinkin' I'll not remember in the morning, ya disrespectful fuck." He
pushs himself up from the table, and seems to be moving very slow and
deliberatly managing his movements as he moves to the sliding door, "The den
is nearby, I'm gonna go sleep there..." It looks like a gamble if he is
going to make it there, but people that know how stuborn he can be might
place a bet on him making it just fine.

Luke hauls Trevor to his feet, draping the Galliard's arm across his
shoulders. Pausing before Salem on his way to the stairwell, however, and
commenting, in proper movie villain style, "You may have won today, Glass
Walker, but there will be another day. We will be back!"

"Bah," says Salem, supremely confident in his victory. "Tha's what they...
_all_ say."

Alec's smile freezes at the Fianna words and his eyes die, but he manages to
put a glass in his face before anything is said. Boom, another tumbler bites
the dust. Then with a look to Salem and a nod. "Oui... they do indeed."

Adrian blinks, "Cleaning? Shit, Jamethon, I wasn't being disrespectful..."

Trevor nods along to Luke's words, probably the result of being drunk rather
than understanding.

Jamethon looks back to Adrian as he is stepping out, "Whatever kid... just
look at it as buildin' character, you'll live." With that, he's gone.

Adrian says "Fuck!" Adrian says "I hate being on cleaning duty."

It's fairly obvious that Luke's as good natured with the comment as he has
been with the whole contest, however Alec may have taken it. Salem even gets
a clap on the shoulder before the Fianna stumbles on out toward the living
room. If Aubrey chooses to help, he'll not refuse it, though he'll get
upstairs either way.

Aubrey remains in her chair, sighing softly as Luke doesn't seem to reply.
She ignores the fact that Jamethon and Adrian are having an arguement, while
she hangs her attention to Alec. "Have we met?" she asks.

Salem grunts at the shoulder-clap, then eyeballs Luke and smirks. He, not
being Fianna, will have to simply let the poison ride his system naturally.
Mmm, poison. He rolls an eye over at Adrian. "Bunch of people went out to
the, hm, porch. Maybe you should... ask them nicely to, ah, help."

Adrian says "No. I'll do it on my own."

"In fac'," the Glass Walker continues, oblivious to whatever else anyone
might start saying to him. "Think I'll join'm. Get some fresh air." He rests
his palms on the table and levers himself up, carefully.

Alec's eyes return from cloudy to life and turns towards the woman
addressing him. "Ah, mais no, I do no believe we have, which makes me the
rude one forgive me." Eyes flicker over towards the departing and then back
to Aubrey. "J'ma... My name is Alec Sainte Jean, I am Kin as you may have
guessed, but to Les enfant du Gaia. I have... been away from Sainte Claire
for... too long." A hand is offered to the chestnut tressed one.

Salem is standing. Go him. King of Vodka Drinkers, Alpha of Alcohol,
Defeater of no less than _three_ Fianna... He weaves a bit, steadies, then
takes a moment to straighten his sweatshirt. All done very methodically,
yes.

Doc comes stomping in, grumbling just a tiny bit as she starts collecting
plates. It seems she has become the designated pie-person, because she goes
after desert and starts scooping it out onto no less than four plates, which
she balances precariously as she heads for the fridge. She gets a beer from
there and tucks it under her chin and grunts, "Inquiring minds wanna know:
who won?"

"The damned urrah, who else?" says the Glass Walker elder, slurring
Slavicly. He looks at Doc, then waves vaguely toward the front door. "You
people missed it. Tsk."

Aubrey waves to Salem before he heads out before she offers her hand towards
Alec. "Aubrey Bennett, known as Sheeaghan (Faerie-Spirit) to the wolfen.
Cliath Fianna Theurge. Alpha of Crescent Wing under the Merlin and Associate
Gatekeeper." Then, Aubrey says cheerfully, "I almost beat Salem." Dream on,
little girl.

Adrian grabs some more food and listens to the others.

Alec says "Almost indeed, congratulations." For failing or for coming close?
He looks over to the new arrivals, "Oui, I must make my return to St. Claire
and so I was fortunate to find a flight here and made it for what looks like
the best part of the night."

Doc grunts in response to missing it and nods, heading back outside without
any preamble or further discussion. Then again she is the Pie Queen for the
moment.

Salem tosses off a vague sort of salute to Alec and wanders unsteadily
toward the front of the house. He's humming by the time he makes it to the
hall closet to collect his coat, something slow and smokey by Leonard Cohen.

Porch

A lathe-turned wooden railing runs the length of the porch save where the
steps are, well-worn with use. To the right of the stairs, a wide swing is
suspended from the overhang which shelters this area; to the left, a small
table is the centerpiece for several chairs pulled around it, all of which
face out to the front yard and the fields and trees beyond. The bright
colors of fall lend an atmosphere of wistful remembrance to this place, a
memory of the summer past, and the knowledge of winter to come. Fallen
flower petals dust the earth around the base of the low shrubs surrounding
the porch, their delicate brittleness testament to the closing of the cycle.

An aging screen door newly refurbished stands between the heavy inner door
of the house and the outside air. Four steps lead down to the lane, a number
of pots with small flower seedling carefully arranged alongside them.

Because Doc thought of you, that's why. She sits down and stares at the pie
plate herself. "Crap. Forgot forks." She sets the plate down on the railing
and heads back into the kitchen.

Salem pushes open the front door and comes out, wearing the big black
leather coat and looking both a) terribly pleased with himself and b)
terribly drunk. He stops humming Leonard Cohen long enough to greet those
out on the porch with a slurred, Slavic-sounding, "Fucking cold out here.
...Contes's over... by the way."

Tabia takes the plate when it becomes clear that it really is hers, nodding
to Salem and Adrian as they come out here to join the group already there.

Adrian steps out onto the porch, a plate piled with food, following Salem.
He smiles and nods at folks as me chews.

Doc pushes her way back into the house after nodding to those coming out, on
a Quest. The Quest for flatware!

"Ah," says Olga. "Y' win?" she asks, looking a little sideways at the large
drunk man. She nods at Adrian as he steps in. "I don' believe we've met,"
she says, turning back to Salem. "I'm Olga."

Olga is tall, strong, and pale. Her face is long, her nose protrudes, and
her shoulders are hunched up, making her look a little like a bird trying to
warm itself in the cold. She is better dressed than one might expect from
her poverty: her clothes are trim and well-constructed, and though far from
fashionable, far, also, from tatters. She prefers layers of clothing,
wearing as much as possible short of sweltering. Her fine blonde hair is
always tucked neatly under something, be it a hat or a cleverly tied
'kerchief. Olga has in fact so managed her wardrobe that she looks more like
one of the faux homeless, a rich kid in dirty boots and patched jeans, than
a real street person; with the difference that Olga wouldn't be caught dead
in dirty boots. She wears around her shoulders a long brown coat with fake
fur trim, very much out of fashion.

Karl leans against the railing, careful not to bump Doc's plate off, and
smiling at Salem. He's never seen him like this.

"Jack Salem," says the shaved-head drunkard as he closes and belts the long
black coat. "Called Scar. Elder of the Glass Walkers. Philomoon. Et cet'ra."
He pushes his hands into his coat pockets and leans against the porch
railing to regard Olga with half-lidded eyes.

Adrian leans against the wall, quietly eating and watching folks.

Olga nods. "Gnawer Theurge," she replies. "Et cetera," she adds with a
half-smile, almost dutifully.

"Go away a month 'nd people jus spring out of the fucking _ground_," Salem
remarks, smirking lop-sidedly.

Doc returns with a fist full of forks and holds them out to those whom were
recipients of her pie run in silence.

Olga nods again, a little wary of the man. "Like a cabbage patch kid," she
agrees. "Thanks, Doc," she says, with a smile, taking the fork.

"'Preciate it," Tabia says when she's given the fork, and takes a bite out
of the pie. Mostly just listening for the moment.

"Thanks," says Karl, taking a fork and digging in. Man this is good eatin'.

Salem chuckles at Olga, the sound lurking in the back of his throat.
"Fucking things, those dolls." He exhales a breath, misting the cold night
air, and eyeballs the group with a half-lidded eye. "I don't suppose anyone
here has a cigarette?"

Out on the road, a vehicle's headlight flashes through the intermittent
trees, accompanied by the distant sound of a high-pitched twin engine. The
light travels north, heading toward the farm and the freeway.

Doc finally grabs her own pie off of the railing and takes a forkful. She
watches the headlights with interest, but only shakes her head in response
to Salem's cigarette query.

Olga looks around, at the cubs and Doc, and frowns when she's going to be
the one tapped. "Yeah," she says finally, digging into her pocket. She pulls
out a pack and pushes out a slim cigarette for Salem, handing it to him. "Y'
need a light?" she asks.

Tabia doesn't offer one, either, though she's occasionally known to bum one
off of someone else. That's about the extent of it from her.

Salem nods as he accepts the cig. "Quit, mm..." He has to think about it.
"Months ago. But's a holiday. So." He sticks the cigarette between his lips
and pauses. "Then again..." He starts searching the pockets of his coat, one
at a time.

Adrian shakes his head, "Cigarettes will kill you, Sir."

The headlight comes to a halt somewhere near the end of the driveway, and
the engine stops; after a few moments the light flickers out.

Olga tsks away Adrian's comment and turns to look at the car.

Karl turns to look at the car. He's very alert, could be vamps again...

Salem stops lighter-searching to squint at Adrian. He snorts. "I've faced a
lot fucking worse than a fucking cigarette, puppydog." His slurred voice
carries easily from the voice, flavored with that Slavic touch he gets when
only well and truly pickled.

Tabia rolls her eyes at Adrian. "Takes a shitload more'n that t'kill one a'
us."

Adrian laughs and nods. He takes another mouthful of food, "Yes, Sir."

The sliver of the moon doesn't give much light--but before long, the more
perceptive folk can see and probably hear someone crunching down the lane
toward the farm. The someone isn't particularly large, and the scant light
glints here and there off a bit of metal trimming the leather biker jacket.

Doc finishes up her pie. "Karl, can you get this in for me? Its time for me
to get back to work," she tells him quietly. She notes the figure but
figures the mass of individuals at the farm house can surely handle whomever
it is, but it makes her wanna get out there and check around for signs of
trouble that are not so obvious.

Salem grumbles a word in Serbian. "I have," he says deliberately, "a lot of
bad habits. Ah." He's found his lighter and uses it on the cigarette with
the kind of practiced skill that even fifteen or so shots of hard liquor
can't vanquish. Tilting his head back, he inhales deeply, with an air of
satisfaction.

Tabia rises, following along after Doc. "Gonna go with ya."

Once she gets close enough to be seen more clearly, Rina lifts one hand in a
vague wave--and then walks faster. Her expression is a twist of concern, and
the dark eyes keep returning to Salem. "Jesus fucking Christ in a tutu,
Jack--where'd you go for vacation, Auschwitz?"

Adrian shakes his head and continues to eat his dinner. It's clear he would
say something if he didnt value his life.

Karl nods and takes the empty plate off of Haley's hands, slipping it under
his own while he continues with the pie upon it.

Olga looks at Rina, and nods once in recognition. She moves over to the
side, away from the conversation, sipping at her beer.

Rina props a booted foot on the bottom step, flashing Olga a brief, crooked
smile by way of greeting. Leaning against the rail of the steps, she looks
up at Salem with an eloquently raised eyebrow.

Salem blinks over at the new arrival like he didn't even hear her motor up.
After a moment, he grins crookedly at her. "Riiina..." He drags her name out
languidly, like the hit he just took from the cigarette. "Happy fucking
Thanksgiving. I jus' out-drank three Fianna." Sure, and could he stand
without the help of the porch railing?

Well, he _did_ manage to make it out onto the porch...

Tabia offers an uncomfortable nod to Rina, pausing briefly on her way down
the stairs, then continues around after Doc.

"Ah." The syllable is about as expressive as one syllable can be, matching
the Kin's rather droll guarded expression. "I see." Rina looks over to
answer Tabia's nod, and then tips her head to look up to Olga. "How're you,
sorella?"

Beret back on his head and settled the heartbeat after he clears the doorway
Alec's head snaps up at the voice. Now, /there/ is a voice he remembers well
enough. One of the few here he does remember. "Well..., well, well." He
smiles slightly at the epithet and quirks his head slightly to the side.
Crows feet... lots of them crinkle as he greets the newcomer with an smile.

"Still kickin'," Olga replies to Rina. "'N' standin'," she adds, with a
small grin at Salem. She turns to Alec once he appears: someone else she
doesn't know.

Salem's lopsided smile widens as he takes in another lungful of cigarette
smoke, savoring the nicotine. He makes a low 'hmmm' noise, eyelids at
half-mast.

Rina gives Alec a startled, crooked grin, and comes up the stairs to offer a
still-gloved hand to him. "Hey, stranger. Nothin I love better than a man in
uniform... except a woman in uniform. Long time, eh?"

Karl finishes up with his pie and licks his lips. "So uh... we're all
family, then?" he asks, referring to the new faces.

	The man (Alec) standing before you is of fairly average height, and
build. Perhaps a little bulkier than your standard sofa-surfer. Any visible
hair on his head is black, short with more than a light dusting of salt to
go with the pepper. If however you get a chance to actually see his face
there... there is something about him. It could be a combination of the
lines on his face, the look in his eyes or perhaps something else. However,
the middle aged man before you now, is someone who could disappear into a
crowd, but would not be forgotten by those who had seen him.

	Ah there is something to be said for a man in a Military Uniform.
Dressed in the Dark Olive Green that is the standard for his branch, he cuts
quite the figure. The well polished shooes carry the man with a serious look
of command about him. Three thick braids circle each cuff of the jacket that
is adorned by a respectable number of medals (only the minatures though)
Going upstairs however, the beret that adorns the almost bald pate of the
man is something else. Firey Orange, almost like the colour that
construction workers wear... and the cap badge, if one scrutinizes him
enough, is the red snake and staff of mercury. It's a felt badge, sewn into
the beret itself. It's something to see at the very least, dashing, in that
uniformed way.

"Oui, but of course and yes, a long time." Alec's never really able to turn
off the charm, but for the most part tonight it is muted. "Indeed and I am
glad to see you are well and in as fine a form as ever." A grin at the
almost sensual pleasure oozing out of the Walker and his smoke. "Nothing
finer than a puff after the drink no?"

Salem answers with a nod and a 'yes' in Serbian. "...'Nd a challenge well
fought." He chuckles throatily. "Jamethon dropped _as_ he was giving the
toast... to his own damn' totem."

Adrian finishes up his dinner and watches everyone.

Rina clasps Alec's hand briefly, and then paces over to take up a spot by
the porch railing, not far from Salem. A faint half-smile is offered across
to Adrian, and she rolls her eyes briefly at Karl. "Nah, actually, I'm here
to kill everyone. Then the Doc can patch you all up and make you look good."
Mercury-quick, her attention shifts to Salem. "You beat Jamie-boy?"

Adrian puts his plate down and jumps up on the railing to sit there and
watch folks.

Alec says "Oui!" Alec's laugh is probably the most genuine it's been
tonight. "Alors he is probably sleeping off his drink right now, or just
sobering up now to realize what le bonne homme here." A hand towards Salem.
"Has done to his reputation.""

Rina slouches back against the railing. "Shit, I miss all the fun."

"I beat Jamie-boy," Salem confirms, taking another drag off the cigarette.
"'Nd Luke, 'nd 'Licia... Aubrey... and some other Fianna. Travis?"

Olga looks at Alec, the one remaining person here she hasn't met, and waits
for a lull in conversation. "So, ah," she says, extending a hand,
"introductions? 'M Olga. Gnawer Theurge."

Alec's hand is out in but a moment with a smile towards the pale and
aquiline featured Gnawer. "Allo, I am Alec, kinfolk and doctor to Les Enfant
du Gaia. A pleasure to meet another Gnawer. It has been a while since I have
been back... far to long really. Surely you know Kaz then oui?"

Olga peers at him as she extends her hand: he's putting her high-school
French to work, now. "Naw, never heard of, ah," she thinks a bit, "him? I
jus' arrived in St. Claire a month ago, though," she adds. "Hardly
well-connected yet, y'know?"

"She left town," Rina says quiety. "Came back for a visit, but I think she's
gone again." She looks over to Salem, studying him with a veiled look of
concern in her eyes.

Salem takes in another long, languid drag off the cigarette he bummed from
Olga; he exhales smoke like a sleepy dragon. "Kaz lef', yes. Had 'nother
Sept to take care of. Dropped off, mm, some mule cub for Renee's pack
t'raise."

Olga turns to watch Rina during her explanation, and then turns to Salem for
his. Seeing him smoke like that makes her want to, too. "`Squeaks`," Olga
offers, as she slips her pack out of her pocket. "That's his name."

"Her," the Glass Walker corrects, drunkenly. "_Her_ name."

Alec's face falls and a sad. "Ah... that.. is too bad. I do hope she does
come by again." A shrug. He took off for over a year himself, who is he to
say boo. "Alors what can one do hm?" A slight shake of the head to clear
some webs, "Salem, you will be fine no? I am sure I can give you something
for your headache tomorrow."

Olga nods, absently. "I stand corrected," she says to Salem, lighting up her
cigarette. She sniffs in through her nose first, as if she has a cold, and
then takes a long drag. She wanders off to the railing to look at the
darkness off the porch.

Salem utters another of those throaty chuckles. "I'll be fine. But," he
adds, speaking deliberately, "you should stop by the new house. Roach
Mansion." He laughs briefly.

Adrian chuckles a bit, as Salem mentions roaches.

Rina looks across to Adrian. "How've you been? Get aren't beatin' ya down
too much, I hope?"

Adrian smiles and nods to Rina, "No, ma'am. In fact I should have my Rite of
Passage completed by month's end. How have you been?"

The question makes Rina back off, the dark eyes glancing away for a moment
before she summons up a crooked smile in answer. "Oh, I'm aright," she says,
for the sake of being polite. "Go you, though. It'll be good t'have you
around."

Salem slides a glance over toward the dark-haired Italian, mismatched eyes
half-lidded and thoughtful. "Hmmm..." He shifts his attention back over to
Adrian. "Going t'tell a story for the Moot, mmm?"

Adrian nods, accepting that wall to be around her. "Well, Jamethon-rhya
already says once I'm Rited he fully expects me to do the Galliards duty's
at the next Moot. that kinda scares me." He looks over at Salem, "Yes, Sir.
If I'll be allowed to tell one."

Alec's eyes belie the fact that he is still jetlagged. "Ah, but I must go
for now people. I shall be around and if you wish to speak with me Rina,
Salem, I have indeed managed to keep my old contact phone number." No
telling how he managed to pull that off but he did none the less. "Good
night to you all."

"Before you go," Karl says, "I'm Karl. Theurge Cub of the Gaians." It's
directed mostly at Alec, since he's leaving, but also at Rina and Adrian.

"Night, Sinjen," Rina says quietly. Her eyes are veiled, her manner oddly
subdued; she gives a belated looks across to the Get when he speaks up. A
brief nod, and she answers with her own introduction. "Rina. Walker Kin,
City Don."

Adrian nods to Karl, "I'm Adrian, Galliard Get cub. Sorry to not introduce
myself earlier."

Alec's departure halts briefly to turn to his fellow tribe mate. "Sacre, my
apologies. Alec, and good to meet you." A nod towards Adrian and everyone
else. "Another night to speak with you all."

Adrian plays with the necklace around his throat.

Olga tosses Alec a wave and a glance, then returns to watching the night.

Karl turns back to Adrian, "Nah that's okay. I'd have introduced myself
earlier, but I didn't want to interrupt the conversation or anything. That
and I was eating, too," he shrugs.

Salem manages to give Alec a nod of farewell before the kinsman leaves, then
blinks and cocks an eyebrow down at Rina, looking at her with an air of
quizzical inquiry.

Alec nods and heads off. "I shall be around the farm house more often now, I
hope to see you then." Back towards Salem, "Drink lots of water and make
sure you get some sleep." Like Salem needs to know, but you can't help what
you are.

Adrian nods and burps, "Yeah, I been eating a lot today. Nice hair by the way."

"Heh, thanks. I borrowed it though. You know Raul?" Karl asks.

Salem gets distracted by Alec's parting remark before his besotted brain can
quite work out what thoughts it was putting together. "Yes, yes, I know," he
says with a kind of drawly impatience, and he chuckles again.

Adrian blinks, "You borrowed your hair?"

Alec heads for the lane, descending the three steps from the porch. Alec has
left.

Rina glances across to the boy. "Thought you /were/ him for a minute, in the
dark," she murmurs. Then she looks to Salem, narrowing her eyes. "What?"

Salem looks back at Rina with the cigarette smoking between his fingers, his
expression bemused. "Hmm?"

Karl chuckles. "Heh, you should have seen me before. I had the jeans, a long
coat, and even a layer of grime on my face. Rusty and I wanted to play a
joke on him."

Rina rolls her eyes at Salem. "Christ, you're /hammered/. How are you gonna
get home, or are y'stayin' here?"

Adrian shrugs.

Salem's slanted grin has a touch of bad-boy slyness, a roguish glint. He
looks past Rina toward the boxy little Yugo parked near the end of the lane
and makes a thoughtful 'hmmm' noise. Then he looks back at the kinswoman and
raises his eyebrows. "Give me a lift?"

A wry smile tugs at one corner of Rina's mouth, not quite reaching her eyes.
She rakes a gloved hand into her hair, rumpling the short fuzz at the back
of her skull. "Yeah, shuah."

Karl says, "Well, I gotta run. Catch you guys later, then." He heads in
through the door.

Adrian waves a bit to Karl, he watches Salem and Rina make to leave as well.

"Excellent," says Salem, drawing the word in a way that'd put Montgomery
Burns to shame. He puts the half-smoked cigarette in his mouth and rummages
around in his coat pockets. "You came in on what... the Ducati?"

Olga turns back to the porch's swing, finally snapping open the beer she's
been waiting on. She takes a swig of it and stretches out with a contented
sigh. She settles a hand behind her neck and watches.

"Yeah." The girl's dark eyes narrow in doubt. "Think you can hang on?" She
gives Adrian a wry look, and adds, "I don't wanna be responsible for
splattering you all over the highway. I prolly wouldn't be long for this
world."

"I'd say the greater threat is being vomitted all over," Olga offers
lazilly. "Bumpy ride, 'n' all."

Adrian smiles to Rina, "take care Rina." He laughs at Olga.

Salem makes a dismissive 'pfft' noise. "S'just vodka. I can handle vodka.
Unlike some." This prompts another throaty laugh. But he gets out his car
keys anyway, and good thing, too; when he pushes off the railing and starts
toward the porch steps, he stumbles. He manages to catch himself, saving
himself from an undignified sprawl, but drops the keys in the process.
"Fuck."

Adrian laughs a bit at salem, he tries to keep it as quiet as possible.

Rina eyes his progress dubiously, and gives Adrian and Olga both a crooked
half-smile. "This is gonna be interesting. Happy kill-the-natives day, you."
Then she clomps down the steps after him, digging her keys from a pocket and
shining a photon light at the ground to find Salem's.

Olga waves a lazy goodbye. "Have fun," she throws after the pair. She draws
her feet up onto the swing once they've left: it's getting cold now that
there are so few people here.

Salem's keys didn't go far, fortunately, though it's interesting how he
managed to keep the cigarette in his mouth. "Did I mention that Jamethon
passed out while he was toasting Fenris?" the Walker asks the kinswoman,
absently, as he stoops -- carefully -- to pick his keys up off the ground.

"Yeah, y'did," Rina murmurs, flipping off the light. When the tall Walker
stands, she takes his arm, threading her own formally around his elbow.
"You'll hafta tell me all about this fighting spree... some other time." As
she escorts him down the lane, her voice gradually fades from hearing.

Adrian sits there and sighs. "How are you Olga?"

Olga sips away at her beer, tucking her feet up inside her coat, and drawing
in her arms, making her look something like a Russian doll. She turns to
Adrian. "'M alright, cub," she says, "'m alright."

Salem's voice drifts back toward the porch, amiable and tolerant. "...Fine,
fine..."

Adrian nods. He doesnt know what else to say.

[Vroom vroom!  Ducati ride yay!]

The ride is fast and cold, dangerous enough that Salem would no doubt have
feelings on the matter--if he weren't utterly and completely blotto, that
is.

As it is, he simply holds on to her and keeps his eyes closed, letting the
wind beat at his scarred face. She's aware of him singing something, but the
words are stolen by the rush of air and the roar of the bike.

The travel along wet roads and then wet streets is a blur. The the building,
looming overhead; she helps him up the steps, and then inside, up the
stairway. "Easy. Here we go..."

The ride's sobered him up a little, but his step is still unsteady as she
leads him up the stairs, and the sharp wit is, well... a good deal less so.
"Mmm-hmm..." He smells of cigarettes and leather and the vodka that Jamethon
brought to the farmhouse.

Finally they make it to the studio. A huge canvas dominates the room, the
landscape on it bright and sharp and twisting, in shades of grey glittering
with mica and hints of green... thankfully, mostly obscured by darkness. She
flips on a light, and the lamp by the sofa turns on, understated and dim. A
kick closes the door, and then she walks with him to the couch. "Here, I'll
getcha some water, aright?"

"Water... right, right." He's easy to lead around, like a well-trained dog.
He drops into a seat on the couch with a grunt, coat and all. "Tried t'call
you when I got in Sunday... you must've been out." He cranes his neck,
peering at the obscured canvas with a furrowed brow.

He looks so different without the beard, with most of his hair gone.

She stands still for a moment, looking at him. "Jesus. You look..." A
nervous laugh comes from her, and she takes a step back. Turning away, she
heads for the kitchen, rubbing at the back of her neck. "I, um. Got your
message. Yeah."

Rina pages: I should desc that. It's kind of this Matrix/sci-fi sort of
floating city, with spires and stuff, very... weird. Lots of mica and
meallics.

Salem blinks, his eyes shifting back toward her, and his head cocks to one
side. After a moment he goes "Hrrrrmn..." and rubs a hand over his stubbled
scalp. "It'll grow back. Though, well." He smiles faintly, shrugs, and sits
forward to start working himself out of his coat and sweatshirt.

She rattles around in the kitchen, pouring a couple of glasses of ice water.
"It's... interesting." Coming out again, a glass in either hand, she drops
to a crouch in front of him and offers one up. No gloves, now; she must have
taken them off.

Salem finishes disentangling himself from those two layers and, down to his
t-shift, leans back against the couch cushions with a huff of breath. He
chuckles quietly at her reply, looking down at her as he accepts the glass
of water. "Interesting?"

Rina lifts a shoulder, and rises, pacing along the couch to sit next to him.
"Different. Makes y'look younger. Except for you lookin' like hell right
now. What happened?"

Salem drinks his water like a good little drunken werewolf, taking it in
slow swallows. "Well..." He draws the word out, buying time. His shoulders
roll into a shrug against the back of the couch. "She needed some help
getting something back. My, ah, friend. You know." A faint smile touches his
face and fades only slowly. "And it was in a... not very nice place."

Rina nods slowly, watching him over the rim of the glass. "You're okay,
now?" she asks quietly.

Salem takes another swallow of water and nods. "I'm okay now." He gives her
a slanted smile. "Home."

Rina answers it, her own smile tentative, still touched with concern.
"Yeah." She glances away, down. "You drink alla that."

"Yes, mother," comes the teasing reply. He smirks, not hurtfully, and drinks
his water. Good boy.

"I'm not your fucking mother." She smiles, just a little, and does not look
to him, as she drinks down a few swallows from her own glass.

Salem utters a snickering little laugh. "Not... not in _those_ pants you
aren't." He chuckles at his own wit.

Rina gives him a Look, somewhere between wry and chiding. "Whatever. Just
don't boot on my floor, or I'll hafta shoot you."

Salem laughs again, the sound more free than the close, tight chuckles he
usually gives when sober. "No booting, I promise."

Rina turns to face him, setting aside her glass on the coffee table and
studying him for a time with those dark, veiled eyes. "Maybe y'oughta skip
town more often," she says quietly. "You seem... happy, almost."

"Bah, I'm drunk as..." He searches for something to finish that with, comes
up with nothing, and shrugs. "I'm drunk," he says simply, and takes another
swallow of water. "Got m'fucking priorities, though," he adds, almost as an
afterthought. "Like this Sept Alpha shit. Fuckit."

Rina tips her head. "Who's gonna do it?"

"Luke." Salem smirks, his expression full of scorn. "Fiannaboy Mark Two. 'Nd
the _first_ to drop in a drinking contest." He chuckles.

Rina rolls her eyes. "Fucking ranger," she mutters. "Figures." The dark eyes
return to him, intent. "Why?"

Salem takes another sip of water before answering. "Because..." His eyes
half-lid thoughtfully, then turn to her. Underneath the pleasant fog of
intoxication, they're weary and old. "...Because, ultimately, I don' give a
shit. Caern can go to hell for all I care. The Garou Nation? ...Is
_fucked_." He frowns, still looking at her, his voice lowering. "I care
about you... 'nd the rest of the family... 'nd this city... 'nd, well...
_her_."

Rina lowers her eyes, and looks away quickly. Her expression is stark,
pained. "You oughta just get out," she says softly. "Go somewhere. Live.
Make a life, and live. Carpe diem."

Salem sighs. "Can't. Anyway... not yet. Still things I give a shit about,
here." He shrugs and drains his glass.

"Everybody's got a flaw," Rina answers. She picks up her glass again, and
drinks.

"Hrmmmm..." Salem holds the empty water glass in both hands, blinking
slowly. Thinking. "So, mm, yes. Anyway." He shakes his head. "Luke is alpha
'nd will, I think, fall flat on his ass." He shrugs. "Or maybe not. As I
told Alicia... I've been wrong b'fore." His voice is getting slower; his
gaze wanders back toward the strange, glittery canvas hidden in the shadows.

Rina wtches him for a moment longer, and then abruptly moves, taking her
glass and rising, pacing across to the painting's edge. "You're not leavin',
then."

Salem blinks, the sudden motion tugging his attention away from the
painting. His brow furrows as he follows her with his eyes, and he shakes
his head. "No. I'm not."

Rina ducks her head, her back almost turned to him. "Are you gonna help me?"
she asks quietly. Her eyes are on the water in her glass.

Salem's brow remains furrowed -- confused, almost insulted by the question.
"What? Of _course_."

"I'd do it alone if I had to," she whispers, staring hard at the floor.

"Jesus fuck, Rina," the Walker slurs. He rubs at the scarred side of his
face. "Why the hell d'you think I'd let you do _that_?"

The glass slips from her hands, and shatters on the floor. Her breathing is
unsteady in the quiet, her whisper barely audible. "Caro." There is a
tension in her body, sudden and sharp, hands held open at her sides, limbs
stretched taut.

Salem jumps at the sound of breaking glass, the noise dousing him like cold
water. He starts to lever himself up from the couch, muttering, "The
hell...?"

Rina tips her head in an unsettlingly familiar movement--just the catlike
gesture she would make, when John laid a hand against her cheek. "Careful,"
she whispers. "Careful. Don't make him go."

Salem, halfway between standing up and sitting down, pauses... and then
decides to sit down again. He doesn't really trust his feet. "He's here?"
Stupid question. Even pickled, he knows this.

She takes a hesitant step forward, boots crunching on broken glass. "Come
back?" she says, soft and fragile and pleading. "Piacere, Gianni... you can
come back--"

Salem opens his mouth, then closes it, firmly. The halfmoon frowns faintly
and folds his arms across his chest; he watches her from under half-mast
eyelids.

Rina wraps thin arms around herself, her spine curving into a protective
huddled posture. Her shoulders begin to shake, but she cries silently--the
sobs audible only as rhythmic breathing passed through clenched teeth.

Salem puts a hand over his eyes and murmurs something in low Serbian. The
name 'Smith' is understood, but that's all. Leaning forward, he gets to his
feet and makes his way, unsteadily, toward the weeping kin. He stops a few
feet away, though, and asks, warily, "He's gone?"

Rina nods unsteadily. It takes some time for her to be able to speak at all;
when she does, her voice is shattered. "S-sometimes-- he does that. Just--
there for a second, like he-- can't stay, or won't stay--"

Salem shakes his head -- carefully, though. "Ah, Rina..." He looks ruefully
at her back, then sighs, "Gaia." He passes a hand across his face, the
evening starting to catch up with a vengeance.

Rina swallows, and turns to head into the kitchen, without looking at him.
The light of that small lamp catches on her skin, gleaming wetly like the
sparks of mica in the painting. "We can talk tomorrow, maybe," she says.
Numb and quiet, like a ghost herself. "About ...what I have to do." She
crouches down to get the dustpan and brush out of a cabinet. "I'll get you a
blanket in a minute. There should be a pillow on the couch already."

Salem nods. "Find him," he murmurs, vaguely remembering a conversation
from... before he left. He rubs the back of his neck and stumbles back
toward the couch, sitting down heavily. He turns to watch her for a moment,
then shakes his head slightly and bends down to undo his laces enough to get
his boots off.

She comes out again, and sweeps up the broken glass. "He'll come back," she
whispers. "I'll find him, and get him back. Break that city apart if I have
to. Burn it to ashes. They can't keep me away."

"Mmm..." Salem wrinkles his nose as he works at a knot. "...I bet Jer'my
still has lots of Roger's old things..."

Rina dumps the broken glass in the trash, and then rummages in the closet
until she finds the folded blanket. She brings it over, laying it by the
pillow. "I'll do whatever I have to do," she says quietly. A single glance
to him, dark eyes serious and still reddened from crying. "Get some sleep."

Salem reaches out to grasp her by the wrist, his expression quite serious.
"Rina." He speaks carefully, earnestly, trying not to slur the words quite
so much. "Whatever... you need to do... I'll be there. Whatever _I_ can
do... I'll do it. Do you understand?"

She swallows, meeting his gaze for a moment's silence. Then she nods
minutely. "Thank you," she whispers, lowering her eyes, her expression
bleak.

Salem squeezes her wrist and then lets go. "Tomorrow," he says. "M'here, all
right?"

Another tiny nod, and then she takes a step back. "Sleep," she says quietly.
Disappearing into the bathroom for a while, she washes up and brushes her
teeth, and not long after, she disappears behind the canvas screen to crawl
into bed.