It is currently 18:14 Pacific Time on Wed Jan 7 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (97% full).
Cockroach Mansion -- Tower
Unlike the rest of the mansion, the interior of the four-story-tall tower has a
rough and almost medieval feel to it. It's all concrete and stone and
exposed lightbulbs. There's one room per floor, plus a basement
underneath; a winding iron staircase leads from one level to the next.
The highest floor of the tower provides the best view of the grounds and
surrounding neighborhood; there are several windows with dark brown
curtains and a couple of chairs to sit in. A black trunk acts as a
makeshift coffee table and footrest, and there's even carpeting.
Interestingly enough, all the windows are set with heavy black iron bars.
On one wall hangs a whiteboard and some dry-erase markers and matching
eraser.
The rest of the rooms are used mostly for storage and have a chilly, shadowy,
dusty feel. In the irregularly-shaped basement reigns the boiler.
There are cockroaches everywhere, on every floor of the tower.
The tower is never a nice place to be, and in the winter this all the more
true. The Upper most room is as cold as ever, and pipes where still not
fixed, leading to an incessantly regular dripping noise. The material
left behind from the last night was carefully stacked and organized on
top of the trunk, and the Glyphs where stuck into the fringe of the white
board, with crudely drawn attempts at reproducing them next to them.
Finally, the cot was moved as to face the wall, Josh, in Lupus, laying on
it staring at the board with the glyphs. The posture is more of brooding
than anything: the worst of the Full moon 'high' was over, but it was
still too large.
Rina slips in quietly, just in case the boy's asleep. She's carrying a big tall
root beer float in one hand, too, just in case he's not. "Hey, Josh," she
says, offering the wolf a faint smile. As always, she seems overshadowed
by a pall of sadness.
Lithe and sleek, this wolf is of a more northern descent. His tawny hide is a
clean gray-white of a wolf of arctic descent, stretched over a clean
frame. He stands about two and a half feet tall at the shoulder; from tip
to tail he's just about four feet long. His ribs are slightly apparent,
and his hide shows where many of the bones are. His face and muzzle is
smattered with a darker gray fur, as well as his entire back, giving him
the appearance of a 'mask.' Four legs connect with the ground, and his
tail is tipped with another darker gray splotch. In the darker areas, a
light red tinge is detectable, but only if one looks close enough. Erect
ears cap his head, and brown eyes peer out from under his brow with
unmistakable intelligence.
Joshua, however, can hear the Kinswoman as she 'ups the stairs. Lifting his
head, he glares at the door, growling something about 'buggering off'.
But with the smell, the sight, of Rina, the glare drops noticeably.
Instead, the youth merely stares at her. Why are you here?
She holds up the glass a little, hopefully. "I brought a root beer float. D'you
want it?"
Joshua gives a Human like nod, before attempting to stand: a motion that is
killed as he falls forward, promptly after it is attempted. All the wrong
joints, in all wrong locations. The youth clenches his eyes shut, and
it's longer than usual: nearly a minute and a half, and he still hasn't
shifted back.
Rina comes over, and sets the drink aside. "You can do it, kiddo." She rumples
his ears. "Just concentrate."
After that, the woman flops down to sit on the edge of the cot. "Think."
Joshua's head whips to face Rina, lips curling as he growls. I AM trying! Your
food is distracting me! His ears splay for a moment, belaying his
irritation.
Rina raises an eyebrow at him. "If you're not /interested/," she says coolly,
"I guess I'll just have it."
Joshua turns his head back to forward clenching his eyes tightly shut again.
Ear tips flick irritably, and after a moment, the Youth shifts back down
to breed. Sitting up, he rubs his brow irritably, rumbling, "What the
heck was 'that' all about."
Rina touches his shoulder, worriedly. "You aright?"
Joshua squirms out from under Rina's touch, scooting across the Cot. "'M fine."
He states flatly. "Just never took me that long to get back to being
Human."
Rina lets out a breath, and rises, pacing across to look over the glyphs. After
a silence, she says, "You're learning."
"Cat doesn't seem to think so." Josh replys cooly, as reaches for the float,
taking a draught. Wiping his face on his arm, he adds. "'n He keeps
treating me like 'm 5, n' we're almost the same age. It's pissing me off."
"Cat's been a cub a lot longer than you. In terms of experience, and what you
know, he's got a right to lord it over you a /little/." Her voice is
matter-of-fact, as she looks over her shoulder to him. "A little. He'll
prolly get rited before you. He's almost ready. Be good for him t'have
someone to spar with."
This doesn't sit well with Josh, and he scowls slightly. "A little. Doesn't
mean he can do it all the time." He takes another swig, glaring at the
cup, now. "'n He accuses my friends of lying. Can he do that cuz' he's
been here longer too?"
Rina's dark eyes focus on him, sudden and sharp. "Your friends? Who does he say
is lyin'?"
Joshua bites his lip, suddenly unwilling to speak. "No one."
Rina shakes her head quickly, and paces back toward him. "Unh-uh. Tell me. You
think these ghosts are your /friends/, now? What are they tellin' you?"
The root beer float melts peacefully on the table.
"He /is/ my friend." Josh growls out loudly all the sudden. He
bolts up, shoulders quivering in anger, not sure what to do. "And what I
talk to him about is my business! Hear me? Mine!"
"Wrong," Rina says, a hard edge in her voice. "What you talk to /anyone/ about,
while you're a /child/, is the business of your guardians and your
tribe." She steps closer, pinning him with those dark, implacable eyes.
"/Especially/ if they're *lying* to you!"
"He is not a liar!" The outburst is accompanied by his fist pounding on the
wall. Hard. "Stop calling him that! Why on earth would he lie about
_Video Games_!?" His upper lip curls slightly, pulling back into a snarl.
Off the full moon high, but not over it.
Rina tenses defensively, watching him with suddenly guarded eyes. She stands a
few steps away--too close--and she comes no closer. "I didn't call him a
liar. I said /if/. Now, tell me about it."
"Tell you about what? That he likes Altered beast? That SAGA is much more fun
than Nintendo? That is none of your bloody business!" Each of the last
three words is accompanied by another pound on the wall from Josh. "What
I talk about with my friends has nothing to do with anything!"
Salem, meanwhile, is in the tower's basement, cleaning up the last remnants and
evidences of the Russians' short-lived and bloodily-ended visit. The
sound of raised voices reaches him dimly, the sound carried by pipes and
vents; he pauses in his work to look upwards, eyes narrowed.
Rina takes a deep breath, and edges a careful step closer. "Joshua," she says
quietly, "settle down." One hand reaches out to touch the boy's shoulder,
gingerly.
"Your calling my friend a liar. I will _NOT_ Calm down!" The Ahroun Cub yanks
out from under the kinwoman's grasp, two steps away to take a sing as his
favorite punching object: The wall. He delivers one heavy blow after
another, knuckles rapidly splitting. "Stop. Calling. My. Friends. Liars!"
Salem swears inwardly and sets the mop down, then heads out of the basement and
up to Joshua's room at the top, taking the stairs two at a time. He's
wearing sneakers rather than boots, but the spiral metal stairs rattle as
he speedily ascends.
Rina backs off quickly. "Okay, Joshua," she says warily. "Okay. Nobody's
callin' them anything, aright?" She is backing up slowly.
Josh stops is relentless assault on the wall, wiping around to face the
Kinswoman with raised fists. His knuckles are thoroughly split, and his
clenched fists are dripping blood. "You just did." He snarls back.
Rina spreads both hands in token of harmlessness, and edges another step back.
"I didn't mean to," she says, her voice low and tight.
Apart from the sounds on the staircase, there's little warning of Salem's
arrival, but as Rina keeps backing away, the door bangs open and in he
comes, glaring and thunderous.
Even as Rina tries to backpedal, Josh turns to take another swing at the Wall.
"Stop insulting my friends!" The right hook lands heavier than any of the
previous blows, and the Cub shifts up into Crinos from the pain and
anger, turning back to the door, his glare is met by Salem on his way in.
The cub pulls his lips back into a snarl, English not being something he
felt like attempting right then.
"Just breathe," Rina says, soft and tense. "Try to shift back, Joshua."
Salem's lips slick away from his teeth. The Walker Elder doesn't even shift
forms, but even in homid, dressed in grubby t-shirt and sweats, he exudes
a definite Presence... and a threat. He advances on the angry young
Crinos, moving between Joshua and Rina, and _glowers_ up at the cub. His
gaze locks onto the cub's own.
Looking like something strait out of the collective imagination of a psyche
ward, this Garou stands easily a full nine feet and is every inch of it
built to fight. He is built like a man, save for the wolf like head,
feet-paws, tail, and the fact that he is covered in fur. His hide is a
clean gray-white, like a wolf of colder descent, with a darker, musky
dark red-gray 'mask' on his face, muzzle, back, and the tip of his tail.
His jaw is lined with needle sharp teeth, suited for tearing and biting,
and his hands and foot-paws are tipped with vicious claws. The Garou's
arms are lithe, with muscle sliding under the skin like oiled steel, and
his well-worked midriff is free of fat. Erect ears cap his brow, under
which two brown eyes peer out with unmistakable intelligence.
Joshua snarls once more at Salem and Rina's general direction, but doesn't move
to attack either. Lumbering to the wall, The now CrinosCub drops his head
against it, leaning into it with his forehead as he closes his eyes. Ear
tips twitch in irritation.
Rina leans back against the wall, watching them both with wary eyes. A hand
reaches to the small of her back, but the gesture is futile: no jacket,
no guns.
Salem continues to advance on the cub, slowly, each step deliberate and his
body taut as a cat's, poised to spring. He reaches up and taps the young
Crinos on the shoulder.
Something comes clunking up the staircase, moving at a decent clip.
Joshua turns his head, and was going to spit out something about trying, but
English is a pretty futile cause, coming out as a irritated growl
instead. The cub grinds his teeth, irritated over his own inability to
shift back down...
"Just try to breathe," Rina says, quiet voice taut with apprehension.
Salem snaps his fingers once, then lowers his hand toward the floor, palm
horizontal. The kind of hand signal one gives a dog when they want it to
lie down. Then he reaches, deliberately (so that the cub can see what
he's doing) to place his hand over Josh's eyes. In all of this, though
his snarl has faded, his expression remains grim and tight.
Joshua complies with Salem, crouching down on the floor. His ear-tips splay
once more in annoyance, directed at himself more than anyone else.
Anthony ambles inside warily, hands in his jacket pockets. He surveys the scene
and chooses a nice safe place to stand; he sidles up beside Rina, leaning
back and putting a boot sole against the wall.
Rina's much less relaxed, pressed against the wall.
Salem lays his hand on the Crinos' giant lupine head, the gesture oddly gentle
despite the Philo's tension. His fingers run through the fur, then end up
at one of the cub's ears and rubs the base of it. Relaxing the boy so
that he can, hopefully, shift back down.
Joshua's nose inhales, as he catches whiff of the 'annoying incompetent' elder,
Anthony. He snarls, before he cuts himself off. Grinding his teeth, he
'sits' up, looking Salem square in the eye, before pointing at the elder,
hitting the top of his own head with the flat of his 'palm', and lowering
his head. Seems he wants... the elder to pound him over the head? That's
what the gesture is, though.
Worry twists Rina's expression, as she watches them.
Salem rolls his eyes, then shrugs dismissively. He shifts up to Crinos, then --
in a businesslike way -- punches Joshua into unconsciousness.
Anthony is more confused than anything, now; his forehead wrinkles and his
mouth hangs ever-so-slightly agape.
Well, there's no disputing the effectiveness of that meathead. The Cub
collapses into the floor, sprawled like some odd bird on the concrete,
definitely unconscious, shifting back to Homid.
Wincing, Rina turns her face away and closes her eyes. She lets out a slow
breath.
Salem reverts back to homid form, nose wrinkling. He shakes his head, then
turns to look over at Anthony and Rina. The latter especially. His eyes
narrow.
Rina doesn't speak, but when she sees the look on Salem's face, she straightens
and turns for the door.
Anthony takes a couple cautious steps forwards to peer at the downed Josh.
Salem hisses irritably and moves quickly, crossing the room to step between
Rina and the door.
Rina stops in her tracks, her eyes lowered. "It was my fault. I said the wrong
thing. He shouldn't be punished." Her voice is low, tight.
Anthony looks back at Rina and Salem, noticing they were blocking the door; he
crosses to the opposite side of the room, deciding to stay out of the
confrontation.
Salem grimaces, looking frustrated. He starts to shake his head, then realizes
that she's too busy looking at her shoes. So he nudges her face up
towards his and shakes his head again.
Rina swallows, her jaw tight, posture still tense from the confrontation.
"What?"
Anthony slouches against the wall in the new spot across the tower, looking
mildly worried.
Salem hesitates, looking past her toward Anthony and Joshua, then back down at
the kinswoman. Then he steps back and leans against the door, arms folded
across his chest. Apparantly, he doesn't want her to leave.
Anthony sinks a little further when the door is definitely barricaded.
Rina closes her eyes for a moment, letting out a breath before she looks up to
Salem. "Jack," she says firmly. "Either ask me what you wanna know, or
let me get the fuck out of here."
Salem's eyes narrow. He wasn't smiling before, but now he scowls. Pushing off
from the door, he opens it and precedes her out of it and down the stairs.
Joshua groans, stirring. Not much tough. Something about being beaten viciously
over the head
Anthony starts for the door, stepping over Joshua before noticing him coming
to. He stops beside him, knuckles on his hips, regarding him curiously.
"Don't hurt him," Rina says quietly, glancing over to Anthony briefly. "I think
he's had enough for one night." Then she turns her haunted eyes away, and
follows Salem down the stairs.
Joshua trys once more, managing to look up. Anthony, however, is not a sight
for sore eyes. "Muh fugg'n head.. ."He groans.
And the root-beer float, in its tall glass, continues to turn into frothy
melted ice-cream goo.
Salem heads all the way down, back to the basement and his mop and bucket, back
to making damned sure there's no leftover Russian down there. Not even
the tiniest splot of blood.
Anthony is genuinely concerned. "Are you all right?" he asks (pretty much
already knowing the answer), crouching beside Josh.
[Basement of the tower.]
Rina clatters down the stairs after him, and then sets herself quietly to work
with him.
Eventually, she tries a few words--quiet, and cautious. "Whatever it is... I'm
sorry, aright?" Scrubbing on hands and knees, she pauses a moment,
rocking back onto her heels to look at him.
Salem pauses when she joins him, eyeballing her, then goes back to work,
apparantly ignoring her until she speaks again. Then he leans on the mop
and stares back at her, his features stark in the harsh illumination of
naked lightbulbs.
Her expression is guarded, wary. "Never mind," she says quietly. Ducking her
head, she returns to her work with quiet determination, looking like a
bedraggled modern-day Cinderella.
Salem exhales a loud sigh, then looks away and mutters something not quite loud
enough to hear.
Rina glances up, hopeful for a moment; then she returns to her scrubbing,
mindless and steady. Time passes, until finally she gets up stiffly,
hands pressed to the small of her back. She looks at him for a moment,
worry in her eyes. "Night," she says softly, and then turns and heads for
the stairs.
Salem watches her go, not saying anything, though his expression is bleak. Once
he's alone, he looks down at the mop in his hands, then snarls, face
twisting, and hurls it ragefully across the room. It hits the boiler with
a dull clang. He kicks the bucket over, too, splashing dirty water over
the floor and his own feet.
There's not much else to vent his temper on after that. Not without destroying
important guts and vitals of the house.
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