"How did you manage to get past Truth of Gaia?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 15:46 Pacific Time on Fri Dec 5 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (79% full).

Cockroach Mansion -- Downstairs

The heavy, dark opulence to this mansion known as Dominion is perfectly exemplified by the room vistors first enter, this front hall. Dark-stained wood serves as paneling on the walls, gleams with high gloss in the hardwood floor, and supports a semi-circular balcony in carved pillars. The heavy double doors, made of oak, open into the hall from the south, opposite the huge, hourglass-shaped staircase composed of red and black gneiss which soars up to the balcony; both are fenced in with a wooden railing of simple spiraled posts. Several doorways can be made out on the second floor, nearly blending in discreetly with the back wall. The wall to the left of the front doors is composed entirely of windows which run from the forty-foot-tall domed dark wood ceiling to the floor; if drawn, the heavy velvet drapes of deep red would completely mask them from view, but when parted, as they often are, one has a marvelous view of the grounds outside.

A doorway to the right of the front doors leads to a parlor, and towards the back are the kitchens, the large dining room, and Salem's office.

Renee's voice is heard over the intercom, as she announces her presence. "Yo, Salem, its Renee."

Inside the house, Salem arches a brow in surprise and goes over to the monitor, switching to the camera over the main gate. Presuming that it is Renee and not a Nexus Crawler doing an impersonation (you never know), he shrugs and buzzes her in.

Renee heads up to the house and if Salem isn't at the door, lets herself in.

Salem, of course, meets her at the door, wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt; the television is on in the parlor, _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ on mute. "Well. To what do I owe the honor?"

Renee shrugs. "I'm a Galliard, ain't I? Got some news for ya."

Salem rubs at the side of his neck and gestures toward the parlor. "All right. Come on in, have a seat."

Cockroach Mansion -- Parlor

This room is a palette of whitewash and wood tones, a cross between a library and an adult's recreation room. To the right of the door way, tall windows with a deep-set seat and heavy earth-brown velvet drapes show a view of the front lawn. The far and left hand walls are inset with wooden bookshelves just over man-height tall; the collection of books is varied, with both fiction and non-fiction. The floor is well-carpeted in a light tan color, and the furnishings -- an old but nice-looking couch plus several armchairs and small tables -- match the decor. One side of the room boasts a fairly impressive-looking entertainment center, complete with high-definition television.

An open doorway leads west out into the front hall.

Renee flops down into the couch and runs a hand through her hair. "Wanted ta let ya know that I'm pullin' people together ta hunt down Orion. If he knows anythin' about Eb, we're goin' ta turn him inta paste."

Salem sinks down into a big black armchair, stretching his legs out in front of him. There's a glass with some half-melted ice and a book (Dean Koontz, _Fear Nothing_) on the little table next to it. He grunts. "I was thinking of hunting him down myself. When?"

"As soon as possible," Renee rumbles. "Want someone with Truth of Gaia, fer obvious reasons. Oh, speakin' of that Rite, Leonard got his chance at me with Layne as a Judge." The Gallird smirks, somewhat smug. "Told him I didn't know who the mom or dad were, which Layne's gift told her was true. Leo flipped out at her, as I was leavin'." The Galliard does her best, to imitate the Wendigo's voice. "She lies. She lies and you let her." Renee smirks. "Almost surprised that Layne didn't hit him. Practically callin' her a liar like that."

Salem tsks. "Insulting a Philodox's honor... rather like calling an Ahroun a coward." He looks curiously at her. "How did you manage to get past Truth of Gaia?"

Renee quirks a grin. "Now, that would be tellin', wouldn't it?"

Salem smirks faintly. "Trade secret. I see." He lifts the glass and looks into it. "So. You need a Judge, and Ebony was my kinsman. I'm in." He tips the glass back, sliding one of the ice cubes into his mouth.

Renee nods and briefly tilts her head to one side. "Anythin' I could have ta drink? S'long walk here. I'm pooped."

"Certainly." The Walker levers himself out of the chair; there are plenty of others for the Gnawer to choose from. On the wide-screen tv, Clint Eastwood is about to collapse of thirst under a hot sun, a crude-looking mexican man behind him on a horse, mocking the lean actor from under a parasol. "What will you have?"

"Anythin' thats wet. I ain't picky," Renee rumbles. "I'm sorry if I scared Mel," she adds, after a brief pause.

"Hmm?" Salem pauses to look back at her, brow furrowed for a moment. "...Oh. No, she was more upset at... the details. About Ebony." He grimaces, then disappears, heading (presumably) toward the kitchen.

A remote control -- presumably for the television -- is on the little table next to the Koontz novel.

Renee ignores the remote and leans back into the couch, closing her eyes as she waits.

The Glass Walker returns some time later with a cold beer in a glass, which he offers to the Gnawer. It's even a _good_ beer. And he's refilled his own glass with something amber, with fresh ice. "Have you met Megan yet, by the way?"

Renee starts a little, as the Walker returns, having partially fallen asleep. "Hey, thanks," she rumbles, accepting the beer. "Megan? Don't know that name..."

Roach Mansion -- where the food is good, the tv is high-definition, and the beer is nice and cold. "She's a Fianna Philodox," Salem explains, settling back into his chair. "Family's from Boston, but she was cubbed and Rited here... and more. Left as a Fostern about three years ago, but she's back now, an Adren."

Renee takes a sip from the beer. "Adren? Whats her Garou name? May have heard it."

"She's had a few," Salem says, studying his drink. "Ravenfeeder, Second-Chance... I think that the most recent one is 'Firewatcher'."

Renee nods, digesting that particular piece of information. "Anythin' in particular bring her back?"

Salem smiles thinly. "Like me, she never meant to be away so long in the first place, I imagine. She packed with the old Alpha, Brian. Arranged for the farmhouse. Among other things."

Renee nods. "Yea, I can see that. We all get busy."

Salem sips from his glass. "Indeed."

Renee sighs and takes another drink from her beer. "Goin' ta try an' pull my pack together fer huntin' down Orion." The Galliard wrinkles up her nose. Goin' ta have ta bow out fer a bit an' disapear for a few weeks, ta a months fairly soon."

Salem arches an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

Renee shrugs. "Gnawers are still lackin' in the lupus kin department. The few that are left, all four of'em, are really lackin' in the breedin' department. Got next ta no wolf left in'em."

Salem grunts. "You're not kidding about that," says the Walker dryly. He sips his drink. "So... you're going to go out and fetch some more?"

Renee grunts. "If ya want ta put it that way, yea."

After being buzzed in through the front gates, Alicia makes her way into the mansion. "Hey guys." She calls over, peering at the pair.

Salem and Renee have an armchair each, him with a glass of something amber with ice, the latter with a glass of cold beer. _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ is showing (muted) on the big television. The two seem to be in conversation, but Salem holds off his reply to look up at the Gaian. "Alicia. Evening." He glances past her at the departing tribemate muttering something about work, shakes his head a bit, then waves Alicia over toward a chair. "Have a seat. Get you anything?"

"Hey 'Lish," Renee greets, lifting her beer. The Gnawer yawns and covers up the gesture with the back of her hand. "What brings ya out here?"

"Nah. Ah'm good. Just saying whats up. I'm ganna be setting up a scouting party at that building which the liver stealers keep coming outta. I talked with Luke. Ganna try an get some Raggies an Theurges to hit up the Shadow before the moot and take a peek around. See if its worth reveling over." Alicia says with a nod of her head. "I'm just spreading the word."

"The apartment building, you mean?" Considering the moon is waxing gibbous, Jack seems terribly relaxed. He's mimicking it well, anyway. "Good to know. The moot's, what, next week?"

Renee grunts an' nods. "Thats cool. Leo been behavin' himself? He seemed kinda pissy, when I took off last night."

"Leonard's always pissy," Salem says dryly.

"Leo was alright during the granny hunt. He nearly made me start fucking laughing tho' when he shouted... Open up old lady! You know what I want!" Alicia grins with a shake of her head.

Renee chokes, nearly spewing out her beer. "Okay, that was interestin'."

Salem grunts. "It worked... as a distraction, at least. Jamethon and I caught her entirely by surprise."

Alicia nods her head. "I told him to start banging on the door, since the lock picking was taking forever and people kept driving by with their cars."

Renee nods. "We know any Raggies with Open Seal? Need ta have someone teach Craig that one."

"Yi." Alicia simply says.

Salem frowns. "Just Yi?"

"I know Yi has it..so does Helen." Alicia says.

Renee hmms. "I haveta talk ta Craig. One way or another, I know he is lackin' when it comes ta Rites."

Salem takes another sip from his glass, frowning thoughtfully. "What does he have?"

Renee says "Kinda got the impression he didn't have any."

((Lost connection. While Salem was indisposed, Megan arrived.))

Megan gives Renee a once over from the entryway to the parlor, then smiles. "I was, but I'd been wanting to met you, too. Megan O'Brien, called Firewatcher or Keeps Her Patience, adren Philodox of the Fianna. I think you came here after I went to Boston. Nice to meet you."

Renee blinks once, then tilts her chin back and slightly to one side. Showing throat. "Salem jus' mentioned you, actually. Pleased ta meet ya. Actually, I've always lived here."

"Hmmm," Megan hmms. "Maybe you hadn't been found then? Or maybe I just missed meeting you entirely," she speculates with a grin. "How are you two doing tonight?"

Alicia offers a grin. "I"m alright. Just coming up with a game plan for a raid. Ganna be checking out whats going down in this apartment building that keeps turning people into liver stealing psychos."

The Glass Walker returns to the parlor, eyebrows lifting slightly at sight of the Adren. "Hello again, Megan." The 'rhya' is unspoken; his tone's politely amiable. "Get you a drink?"

Alicia turned him down, but Renee's got beer in a glass.

Renee nods. "Yea. Changed jus' over two years ago. Salem here said ya took off about three years ago."

"I'd love one, Salem," Megan answers the other philodox. "Whaddya got?" She nods with interest at Alicia, but waits for Salem's answer before responding to that, or the look of surprise at Renee's information.

Alicia stretches herself out some, arms at her sides, then slowly draws them upwards, before allowing them to flop at her sides, waiting politely.

Salem rubs the back of his neck. "We have a fairly well-stocked liquor cabinet, plus various wines, juices, tea, coffee, bottled water..."

Renee drains off some of her drink and runs a hand though her hair, looking back at Salem.

Megan grimacs, but says, "I think I'll stick with beer for now, as long as it's none of that American crap. Whiskey, neat, if you don't. And thank you," she adds to the Glass Walker, before turning back to Renee. "Two years, and already Fostern. You must be good," she finally comments. "But, please, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation. I'll listen, if you don't mind, I'm trying to get up to speed on what's going on."

Renee shakes her head. "Not really. Jus' real stubborn. Kaz started with her wanderin' kick around the same time I passed my Rite. Hell, even a bit before that. Got tired of havin' no-one in charge an' took over. Responsibility sucks, but someone has ta get shit done."

"Hey, I must be pretty darn good too." Teases Alicia with a nudge to her pack leader's shoulder, grinning wryly. "We rited an ranked around the same time, pretty much." With a chuckle and glancing around, she finds herself a seat and relaxes into one. "Renee, you wanna tell it, or shall I?"

Renee smiles vaugely. "Go right ahead, 'Lish."

"I dunno.. yer obviously the better story teller of the two." Alicia chuckles. "I just got the better singing voice."

Salem smiles thinly, then disappears to fetch Megan's drink. Inwardly, he considers his own private stash of Jagodinsko, decides that the Boston-descended Fianna would probably not appreciate a Serbian beer, and prepares the whiskey instead. He returns as the two Galliards debate as to which of them is going to fill Megan in on current events.

Renee ehs and waves a dismissive hand. "Ain't much in the mood, ta be honest. Spent most of my mornin' feedin' the Squeaker, then cleanin' up the mess she made. Kinda wiped."

"Never thought I'd see the day," Megan calls out to Salem, a smile visible to the two packmates, "when I saw one galliard, more less two, not wanting to tell a story when *asked* to."

Renee smirks. "This is what I get fer tryin' ta let 'Lish get a word in."

"The Apocalypse is near," Salem deadpans, handing the glass to Megan and then resuming his chair. The former Ahroun stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

Grinning, Alicia bobs her head. "Alrightie, I guess I'll do it." She says with a chuckle. "Its just that my talent doesn't lie in telling stories. Its in singing and inspiring others to get pumped up for war. Renee got the golden tongue for that sorta thing." With that, she slips off the chair, clearing her throat. "It started with a single murder, one that got over looked by us the first time, only because it didn't make the news as great as the second. Someone was out there on the streets, /gutting/." She says the word firmly. "People, and taking out their livers and leaving their innards sprawled out like a dead octopus washed up on the shore." She starts to pace in a circle, letting her eyes drift to each one of the Garou. "By the time we got involved, it was a family that was destroyed next, both parents, siblings, and probably the family dog if they woulda had one. It all came back, linked to a young girl who looked like she could barely bench press a dixie cup. Odd, indeed." With that, she narrows her eyes a bit. "Renee and I started up a mission on the streets, using the Questin rite after gaining her name and picture from the news paper. We hunted for nights, until we finally got our chance. There she was.. inside a conveinence store, rummaging around for food. The confrontation didn't go as well as we hoped, because when she came out, I picked a fight with her, and soon found my guts hanging halfway out of my stomach and down my knees. She put her arm into me.." She pauses. "The third one, that she grew out of her chest and rammed her fingers into me, those which hooked like claws. After that, she was quickly disposed of, mostly when Renee shifted an stomped on her face up and down as if she would a.." She pauses. "Bug, on the ground."

Megan raises an eyebrow incredulously, but holds her silence, sipping at her whiskey. This isn't her show, she's just part of the audience.

Renee looks over at Salem and smirks, then goes back to drinking her beer. Not terribly much of it left.

Salem simply listens, his expression nice and neutral, doing a decent-enough job of relaxing despite the waxing moon and his own inner... temper. He sips his own drink (amber of color, with ice half-melted) and merely listens. Occasionally, he glances over at Megan, gauging the Fianna's reaction.

"Next, probably a week after we disposed of that young girl, a copy cat murder popped up. Weird, eh'? That or a cult was just in love with the taste of liver. Regardless.. Andrea and Elan handled that paticular job, aided by the pack of Ouroboros, they tracked this second killer to that of a warehouse, where there was more than its share of death being tucked away. After that threat was dealt with, Rough and Tumble came across soon after.. a /third/ murderer. This time in the form of a seventy year old grandma. After doing a bit of research, we came to light that each of these murderers were involved somehow with this apartment complex. After a quick run through and coming up with nothing, not even a sniff of the Wyrm in a stronger form, we gave up for a few weeks after things got a bit quiet. I recently sent a cub off on a passage Rite to collect information on this grandma slayer, find out where she is hiding and come back to us so that we can gather a group of Cliath to help dispose of it." Alicia says with a frown as her voice turns into a soft rumble. "It has been four months now and I have not heard from my cub yet.. Catherine..a ragabash, by the name of Stalks-Silence. Her goal was to not get into a confrontation with her, just simply find some information or perhaps a way to track her killings. Without word, I assembled a group of Garou and once more, we quested to find her shacked up in a house. After creating a distraction, Salem and James ripped her up good. Inside, we found dozens of bodies, none of which matched my cub. It seems that by being too relaxed, we allowed her to gather up more victems." She says, grunting lightly. "It smelled of decay and death, the kidn of shit that you'd most likely find in a sewer.. or hell, whatever is worse these days. So, with that in mind.. I'm getting together a spirit scout pack to go search the shadow of this complex. Theory is that a bane is piggy backing these people, then taking off once we start fucking it up."

"Fomor?" the Fianna finally interjects.

Alicia nods her head. "All of them. They are super strong and kinda fast.. an they can take Garou claws an not fall apart too fast. Fuckers are nut cases. The girl who put her hand through my chest didn't even say Hi. She just went at it with me."

Renee frowns faintly. "Eh, 'Lish, the chick that did that to ya was made by those UL pills that vamp was puttin' out. First Liver eater was a guy. Led the cops ta him an' they filled him full of holes. Yer mixin' things up a bit."

Salem toys with his glass, then looks over at Alicia with a slight frown, brow furrowing. His expression clears as Renee speaks what's on his mind, and he nods agreement.

Alicia blinks and furrows her brows. "I thought the UL pill people an the liver eaters were confirmed... or did we dismiss that shit?"

Salem abruptly scowls at the Child of Gaia. "Alicia, not _every_ fucking crisis in this city is connected."

Renee shakes her head. "The UL shit was that vamp chick stickin' her blood inta pills an' passin'em out at raves. Was doin' research on makin' formori. Still have her papers. The chick growin' extra arms an' shit was one of her creations."

Alicia raises a brow up at Salem. "/My -bad-./ I thought at one point it was brought up. Sorry if I got a lot of shit on my mind lately. Its not like I'm a fucking almanac that can cram all this crap into my head an sort it out. I'm a Galliard, not a walking miracle."

Renee winces and rubs at her temple, as if she has a headach. "Yo, peeps, big moon. Back off, already."

Salem glowers for a bit and seems about to say more, then settles back with a grunt.

Megan's eyes narrow thoughtfully at Alicia's disclaimer, but sips at her whiskey from her seat. "So, is there, or isn't there any kind of evidence to suggest the murderers are fomor?"

Alicia lets out a breath and motions for Renee to take over, making her way off to get up a glass of water, murmuring. "Toldja I'm not good at this fucking shit."

Renee nods. "Yea. Last one was a granny. I mean, a real granny. Like, 75 years old or some shit. Came outta the same place as the first guy. From what I've heard, they were both unusually strong. The chances of them bein' formori or possessed humans in my book are good."

Watching as Tom pulls away, Katrine waits until the car's out of sight before shouldering her bag and turning to face the huge structure before her. This is /not/ her idea of a good day. No, not at all... Sighing, and giving the door an unhappy look, the girl walks up and presses the intercom button. "Hello?"

Megan nods thoughtfully to Renee, then lifts her head at the sound of the buzzer. She looks to the other three, twisting the tumbler between her fingertips.

Chin lifting, Alicia calms down quite a bit after a bottle of water and the sound of Katrine's voice through the intercom. She lets out a soft breath and heads over to answer the door. "Thats my girl." She says softly. "Hate ta' give 'er up to the roaches." A slight smirk tugs on her face as she greets the cub from the other room. "Hey.." She says once the door is open, ushering her inside. "We're all in the parlor."

Renee tilts her head to one side, as a voice comes over the intercom. "I've Gotta head back ta the zoo ta check on Craig an' the Squeaker, before callin' it a night." Putting her glass down, the young Gnawer makes her way toward the door, offering the cub a faint smile in passing. "It was nice ta meet ya Megan-Rhya. Should have Salem show ya where the zoo is at one point. Gnawers ain't livin' in the old church these days."

"I'll ask him," Megan calls out to the Gnawer. "I'd like to chat more with you."

Renee nods. "Cool. Feel free ta drop by anytime." With that, the Gnawer lets herself out.

Katrine nods to Alicia, stepping in after she opens the door and looking around the entrance. So. This is where she has to stay now. The girl turns to the older Garou. "Hello, Alicia," she says, before turning and walking towards the indicated parlor.

Alicia nods and leads the cub in, letting out a soft sigh as her hands fall upon her shoulders from behind. "Megan, this is Katrine, a Glass Walker cub who has been staying with me the past few weeks in Salem's abscence."

Megan lifts an eyebrow, but then nods greeting to Katrine. "Megan O'Brien, called Firewatcher or Keeps Her Patience, Adren philodox of the Fianna." She tilts her almost-empty tumbler of whiskey in Katrine's direction. "Pleased to meet you, Katrine. What auspice?" she asks all three in a look.

Katrine nods back to Megan. "Good evening, Megan," she replies politely. "Alicia says I'm a Galliard," the girl adds, with a slight shrug.

Salem, seated in the main armchair like a king on a throne, sits up and finishes his drink with a swallow. "Alicia found her, then found out she wasn't meant for the Gaians. Am I right?" He glances at Alicia for confirmation.

"Yup. Found her kinfetch mark in the Umbra. I got curious. But, she knows the basics so far and she's a good kid. A real fast learner." Alicia says, giving Katrine a light squeeze around the shoulders, before letting her go and making her way back to a chair.

Megan crosses her legs lightly and falls silent again, once more content to sit back and observe without intruding.

Salem smiles thinly and turns back to Katrine. "We've got a room set up for you on the second floor," he says evenly. "If you don't like it, you can pick a different one. There are plenty. Have you eaten yet?"

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

Katrine remains standing where she is, blue eyes fixed upon Salem. "I ate," she replies shortly, before closing her mouth and becoming silent again, not looking away.

"I bet Tom fed her full of junk food. He's always eating that crap... an for a Doctor, that's kinda amusing." Alicia murmurs to herself slightly as she props her chin up with the palm of her hand.

Any trace of amiability vanishes in the older Glass Walker when the cub locks gazes, and the intent, mismatched eyes focus like lasers on the girl's. "Alicia says you've learned the basics. Do you know the Litany, _cub_?"

Katrine drops her head, unable to maintain the stare. Not that it would have gotten her anywhere, anyway... Idiot. What were you thinking? You weren't. That's the problem. "Of course I do," she replies, voice quiet but her tone slightly affronted.

Salem's mouth thins; he's only somewhat mollified. "Let me make one thing clear, Katrine," he says, setting his glass down. "I am your elder. The head of your family. Your commanding officer in this war. I am _not_ your friend. I will not lie to you and I will not bullshit you. I will teach you and protect you and turn you into one of Gaia's best and brightest defenders, but I will _not_ take any crap from you. Understood?"

Megan glances at Alicia, studying that galliard during all this.

Twitch. Alicia bites her lip, wisely perhaps as she simply sits there in her chair. Her hands curl slowly into fists, then release after a moment.

Family? Hah. /Sure/. Family - true family - involves a whole set of different emotions, ones that she doesn't feel towards Salem. Well. If he wants to think so, let him. Katrine stares at her hands, which she clasps in front of her. She understands, and she won't forget. "I understand," the girl answers, voice still quiet but no less sincere for it.

Megan glances between elder and cub, then puts her tumbler aside, and pushes to her feet. "Alicia? Let's go. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Alicia pushes herself upwards slowly and gives a nod to Salem, then softly murmurs. "Alright. Sure thing Megan Rhya." She says, using the respective title. With that, she slips past Katrine, giving her a look, offering a brief smile, before heading for the front room.

Salem mutters, "Good." He looks away from Katrine as Megan gets up and nods, then turns back to Katrine and waves her to an armchair. Then he picks up the remote and, finally, turns off the old Eastwood western that's been showing in silence on the big television.

Katrine inclines her head slightly to Alicia, then turns and walks over to the chair she was directed to. Dropping her bag onto the floor, she sits down and looks towards Salem, draping her arms over those of the piece of furniture.

Megan follows after Alicia, turning her head to watch Katrine pass, and opening her mouth as if to speak. She snaps it shut, though, and goes into the entryway, saying to Alicia, "Let's go somewhere safe to talk, hmm?"

Alicia bobs her head slightly as she goes, reaching out to snag the handle of the door and lets herself out, holding it briefly for Megan to pass through.

"Make yourselves at home," the Glass Walker invites to the pair, then turns his regard to Katrine, saying nothing until they're quite alone.

"Now then," says the older Glass Walker, steepling his fingers. "What, precisely, as Alicia told you?"

Katrine tilts her head upwards, then closes her eyes, the better to remember. "We talked about... the history of the Garou in general, though she said it was the... Children of Gaia version. Auspices. A bit on the different tribes, and kinfetches. A bit about the Wyrm, and other supernatural creatures... she touched upon the Umbra, but said 'Luke' was going to tell me more. Guess not, now," the girl comments. "And... the Litany, of course." She looks back down towards Salem, opening her eyes again.

Salem grunts, acknowledging the answer without giving overt indication as to whether it's a good one or not. "You're a Galliard. Do you know what that means?"

Katrine nods slowly. "It means I'm a bard. A storyteller. And... I think she mentioned something about 'inspirational voice in battle' or somesuch."

Salem grunts again. "Combination lorekeeper, cheerleader, and officially-sanctioned gossip. Yes. Are you musically inclined at all? It's not necessary, mind you, but many Galliards cultivate an instrument or some kind of creative outlet."

Katrine nods, and smiles suddenly. "Yes. I can play the violin pretty well, and I started the flute a few years ago. Mine are with my mom, though," she adds, her expression dimming as swiftly as it had lit up.

Salem makes a little 'mm' noise, thoughtfully, and folds his arms across his chest. "We'll see about getting them replaced." He cocks his head, favoring his good eye as he looks at her. "That reminds me. What about your parents, your blood family? Are they going to be looking for you?"

The front door opens, and admits someone before closing again.

Katrine sits back in the chair, folding her arms so that her left hand is in the crook of her right elbow and her chin rests on her right hand. "Hmm... only person who might is Mom. But I'd bet she moved on already. She's not the sort to look for /anything/ for very long."

Salem glances up, peering through the open doorway toward the front of the house. "Hello?" he calls out.

Rina's brow is already furrowed as she heads for the parlor, coming into sight. She is dressed for clubbing, tonight, with the barest hint of black eyeliner smudged across lower lashes and eyelids--playing up the gaunt face, making her eyes larger and darker against her skin. She is a little flushed, and a ragged smile lights up her face when she sees them. "Hey..." Stepping in, she approaches Katrine with an open, geniune smile. "You must be new."

Katrine turns her head and looks at the strange woman, then nods slowly in assent. "Yes."

Salem actually smiles a little at Rina's appearance and gets up out of his armchair to go greet her. It is, perhaps, the first time Katrine's seen him do anything but scowl. "This is Katrine. Galliard, one of ours, a cub. Katrine," he adds, addressing the girl, "this is Rina. Kinfolk, like Alicia's husband."

Rina steps forward with that rather stunning smile, and inflicts a mellow, happy hug on the man, closing her eyes and breathing, her arms settling around his waist. "Hi, Katrine," she says in the midst of the embrace, somewhat absentmendedly, but friendly all the same.

Katrine glances at Salem, then inclines her head towards the woman. "Hello, Rina."

Rina pages: Oh my. She's warm, and... uh. very friendly.
Rina pages: That telltale shine in her eyes. Can't really blame her for taking a few hours of artificially-induced happiness, though, can he?

Salem returns the hug, albeit with a good deal more reserve, then steers the new arrival toward a chair. "We were just going over the basics," he tells Rina. "Alicia's gone over some of it already. Just making sure to what extent." He peers at Katrine for a moment, then looks back at Rina. "Get you a drink?" There's a glass with some semi-melted ice near the armchair he just vacated, and a luggage-type bag on the floor -- the latter presumably belongs to the cub.

Rina's attention span doesn't go past 'the basics,' really. Once he is steering her toward the seat, she offers another smile to Katrine. "Nice t'meetcha," she says easily. "Wanna hug?" She doesn't sit down just yet.

Katrine cants her head and blinks in mild confusion at the woman. "Umm... no, thanks," she replies, a bit puzzled, but managing to smile weakly back all the same.

Salem shakes his head, smirking crookedly. "Someone's feeling good tonight," he says wryly. "I'll get some water." He leaves them alone for a moment or two.

"Thanks, Jack." Content with the girl's answer, Rina drops into the indicated chair. "You still in school?" she asks.

Katrine frowns slightly, not quite sure how to answer the question. "School... how?"

"School," Rina says, smiling. "That place where you fo, that has books and teachers and stuff, where they make you take math?"

Katrine ahs softly in understanding. "Well... I should be," she replies. "And math's not too bad - it's history I don't like. All the social studies stuff."

"I think it's going to be home schooling from now on. Of course." Salem's back with a tray -- glasses of water and some cheese and cracker type things. Suddenly, things are a lot more cozy. He sets the tray down on the main coffee table, within easy enough reach, and wanders over to lean against the back of Rina's chair.

Rina nods, leaning forward to take a glass of water, sipping at it, bright eyes watching Katrine. "What grade?"

Katrine glances at Salem as he speaks, but doesn't look surprised. "Ninth," she replies, turning her gaze back to Rina.

Salem shrugs faintly at the cub's look. "Werewolves and outside school simply don't work well. Since you're a Glass Walker, though, I do expect you to be able to pass a high school equivalency test when the time comes." He scratches absently at his chin. "What have you been told about your tribe?"

Rina glances to Salem, and a tiny smile comes to her lips as she drinks. A swallow, and she observes, "Missed a spot."

Salem glances down at the woman, mildly distracted, and lifts an eyebrow. "Hm?"

Katrine umms... "That Glass Walkers are city-dwellers, unlike the other Tribes, and... they tend to have influence in mobs, gangs, special interests, politics, and money." She frowns again, trying to remember something else... After a moment, the girl nods slightly. "And that Walkers are survivors, good at... sticking around," she finishes.

"Just like cockroach," Rina observes, giving the girl a wry half-smile and settling back in her chair. She looks back to Salem, watching him over the rim of her glass, dark eyes dancing.

Salem nods. "Survive and adapt." He glances over at the clock over the television, then straightens up from his lean against Rina's chair. "Why don't you take your bag and head upstairs. Second floor, third door on the right. As I said earlier, if you don't like that room, feel free to pick another."

Katrine nods to Salem, then gets up, grabbing her bag along the way, and heads out with a brief smile towards Rina.

Salem watches her go, then passes a hand back over his stubbled head with a faint 'hrmph'.

Rina's dark eyes remain focused on him, as she drinks down a few more swallows. She still has a faint, irrepressible smile.

Salem turns back and eyeballs the suspiciously cheery Italian and shakes his head a bit. "And how _is_ Mr. E this evening, Rina?" There's that wry touch in his voice.

She leans forward, setting down her glass, the smile widening a touch. "Fine," she answers, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. "I'm fine too, thanks for asking." She stands, a restless, graceful movement, and spins toward him.

Salem folds his arms across his chest and looks down at her archly, all dignity despite the rather casual attire. "Good..." He watches her carefully, almost warily.

Rina comes to a dizzy stop, looking up at him with that bright, intense gaze. "You should come dance," she says, with the air of someone announcing the wisdom of the ages.

Salem exhales a soft breath, long-suffering again. "We've been over this. I don't dance."

A nod answers him. "Exactly. So you could learn, and it would be new." She spins closer, a highly kinetic subatomic particle orbiting the tall man, looking up at him. Abruptly, she is there, pressed to his side, her chin lifted, the dark eyes fixed on him. "It'd be /exciting/."

Salem clears his throat and attempts to extract himself from her grasp as gently and politely as possible. "My life is _plenty_ exciting, or hadn't you noticed?"

Rina reaches up to beep his nose with a fingertip. "All work, no play, y'know how it goes..." Her smile is ethereal, her body malleable as he disentangles himself from the five-foot-odd force of nature; her hands want to remain in contact, and so does her body. "Hey, what, you don't want any more?" she asks, somewwhere betweeen placid and plaintive.

"Yes, well, I have a jealous..." He clears his throat. "Friend." He glances over toward the big window, marking that the shades have been drawn (as they usually are after sundown) and simultaneously gives in to Rina's desire for tactile excess and retreats from the dangers of it.

Which is to say, he turns into a wolf and bumps against her legs. Spoilsport.

She actually laughs--he can't remember the last time he heard /that/--as she drops to a crouch and hugs him, nuzzling into the furred shoulder. "I have a jealous husband," she says, muffled, "so I understand..."

Scar presses a wet nose against the side of her neck, then nips -- gently, of course! -- at the woman's ear. Unconsciously, his tail waves gently. His black fur is slightly rough -- he isn't a puppy, after all -- and smells of leather and aftershave.

Laughing, she wriggles out of the Ducati jacket and starts tussling with him, down on all fours and growling, swiping at him like a kid playing with a dog.

Scar's ears splay with amusement, and he indulges her, though it's no small thing, to wrassle with a former Ahroun when Luna's fat and waxing. He's restrained, not using his teeth anymore, but lowers his head to push against her, growling back in a way that's more fond than threat.

She is at him for a while, mock-fighting the way a cub might, only without the biting--shoulder-butting him, trying to grab his legs out from under him without the use of her human hands, growling as she bull-rushes her head into the powerful wolf's chest. When she is beginning to flag, her finally lets her pin him--with a "Ha!" of triumph, she knocks his forelegs aside and lunges over him. After that, the Ahroun is forced to submit to head-nuzzling, belly-scritches, and all manner of indignity.

The sound of carefree laughter, though, is just about worth it all.

Scar lies half-bellyup, enduring all of this with a good deal of patience and a certain wry amusement. Praying, perhaps, that none of the other residents of the house -- like that new cub -- come traisping into the parlor to witness the big bad elder laid low. He has, after all, a reputation to uphold.

Eventually, when she begins to tire of her victor's display, he rolls over onto his belly and cranes his muzzle out to lick her chin.

Giggling, she flops onto her side, her head slowly twisting to fall back, until the rest of her body follows its lead. Eyes closed, she rumples his fur with a hand, a low sound of contentment coming from her throat.

Scar lays a foreleg over her belly and rests his head on her chest, muzzle and eyes pointing at her face. His ears splay sideways; then one shifts forward to focus on her.

"Mm-hm," she mumbles, a faint curve on her lips still. Gentle and clumsy, a calloused hand pets the lupine head.

Scar sniffs at her and makes a low wuffing noise. Silly woman, you're not falling _asleep_, are you?

"Whaat?" she drawls, eyes still closed. "Play more?"

Scar snorts, then sits up. In a moment, he's resumed human form and has grasped her by the arms, hauling her up. "You are _not_ sleeping on the floor." His voice is full of amusement; his mouth is twisted into a crooked grin. If he had hair, it'd be all rumpled. His clothes rather are.

The dark eyes flicker open, bright and hazy. The smile looks permanent, though it will most likely fade by morning. "Did I say I was sleeping on the floor? I was /so/ not sleeping." She puts a hand to his chest to straighten his shirt absently. "You should come to the Underground with me, though."

"You looked as though you were _about_ to fall asleep." He mock-glares at her. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

Rina screws up her face, one eye squinting closed while the other peers at him in confusion. "How would it humiliate /you/, if /I/ fell asleep?"

Salem shakes his head. "I meant dragging me to the Underground." He looks into her face, then sighs and gives in. "All right. But I am _not_ going to dance."

Rina beams up at him like a Botticelli angel, and plants a kiss on his cheek. She practically bounces, as she tugs on her jacket. "Yay! Maybe I won't even dance, and we'll just hang out, and talk and stuff..."

In the end, of course, she dances--the Underground being not so conducive to deep conversations. There's a curvy redhead who seems to catch her eye, with whom she spends much of the evening; the two don't go much farther than kissing and dancing close, but even that is enough to raise a bit of a stir and nearly cause a fight. A college jock looks as if he might just cut in, and mutters something about 'fucking dykes'... but between the interference of the management and Salem, he ends up leaving the establishment in a hurry.

Yes, there's something about a big scarred man in a big black coat and a haircut that'd make a Marine look like a hippy that'd take the wind out of any collegeboy's sails... oh, and the slavering beast lurking under the human mask helps, too. And this despite the fact that Jack's in a _good_ mood tonight, and he seems content to spend the evening watching her and watching out for her; when she finally runs out of steam, late into the night, he escorts her home. Just like old times.

The hug goodnight is mellow and chaste--probably because her mind is occupied with thoughts of that lush redhead, and all the things she /didn't/ do on the dancefloor. And tonight, she sleeps deep and sound for once.