"Pack up. You're moving."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 09:29 Pacific Time on Sat Jan 17 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (32% 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 was back to being warm again, today. The pipe in the roof still drips
      regularly, and the new Crinos-proof door sits closed, locked and bolted. 
      The smell of the cleaning supplies has faded, leaving the smell of the 
      blood from too many fights to linger on as a near constant presence, 
      mingling with the smell of wolves. Hung on the walls are dozens of pages 
      with glyphs on them, all with notes scrawled under them in neat Japanese. 
      The resident of the tower himself, Joshua, sits crouched where he was 
      left the last night. He sits squatted on the lid on of the trunk, idly 
      reading through his notes, making corrections ever now and then. His left 
      arm hangs limp to his side, wrapped in now blood soaked gauze that is 
      beginning to come off: the whole limb looks like he stuck it into a meat 
      grinder. The youth looks a little pale from the blood-loss, but aside 
      from that, as long as he sits mostly still he manages to keep an even 
      face.

Salem enters carrying a tray of breakfast food -- eggs, bacon, juice, toast. He
      frowns at the state Joshua's in and snaps, "Shift, you'll heal faster."

Joshua looks up at the door, staring dumbly at the elder for a moment. "Huh?"
      He blinks, shaking his head. But he does stand up off of the lid, 
      twisting and contorting as he shifts down to Hispo. Shaking himself off, 
      he lifts the leg, adamantly not putting weight on it.

Salem watches this darkly, then sets the tray he brought down on the trunk and
      takes a seat in one of the remaining chairs. "Glabro will work, too," he 
      says. "Any form but homid." Then he nods toward the tray. "Eat."

Joshua limps over to the food on three legs, the injured limb not touching the
      floor. Stopping by the tray, he curls his tail under him, canting his 
      head up to Salem, asking what 'glabro' was.

"Near-man," the Elder explains, then shifts into it to demonstrate.

Joshua sits back on his haunches watching Salem intently. A moment later, he
      attempts the form as well. He shifts up to it with less difficulty that 
      he did the first time with Hispo, but it still takes a moment. "Smells 
      good, Salem-Rhya." He notes once he finishes shifting, voice down an 
      octave. "Thanks."

Salem's voice, unfortunately, hasn't gone down _enough_; it still sounds high
      and nasal. "Welcome. You get that from Signe's cub?" He nods toward the 
      arm.

"Emma?" Josh shakes his head, reaching for the food with his good arm, stuffing
      some toast into his mouth. "Fire-Dancer's cool. 'swas Anthony." He 
      answers; from the tone of his voice, it sounds like something he's not 
      willing to talk about without some pressure.

Salem's eyebrows rise like surprised caterpillers. "Anthony?" The heavy brow
      furrows. "What happened."

Joshua sighs, setting down the food. "How to explain..." He murmurs low, brow
      forming trenches. "Anthony was not acting like Anthony-Rhya. More like 
      Cat 'er me on a bad day. 'n he's been like this for a week er more. 
      Always whining about how he's not good 'nuff, and how he's so 
      incompetent. So I fixed the problem." He explains, purposefully cryptic 
      on the 'fixed the problem' bit.

Salem's frown deepens. "How?" he asks, curtly.

Joshua lets out a louder, more irritated sigh. "By reminding him he's the
      elder, not me." The cub explains exasperatedly. "Both the Wolf and I 
      where sick of him beating up on himself 24-7. I can't learn anything from 
      him if he's constantly in a stupor, and the wolf wouldn't accept him 
      being in charge if he didn't act it. So I used Cat's method of putting 
      myself between the person and what they're beating up. 'xcept it wasn't a 
      wall, I was putting myself between Anthony-Rhya and himself. Then once he 
      started beating up on me, the wolf taught him how to assert dominance 
      'gain, and not act like such a girl." While he explains this roughly, he 
      tears off some more toast, stuffing it in his mouth and chewing it, 
      determined to make progress on breakfast. "Wolf wasn't happy that I 
      lett'em win, though."

Salem wrinkles his nose. "You mean _you_ weren't happy." He pushes to his feet.
      "The wolf is you. Your instincts. _Remember_?"

"If I wasn't happy doing it, I wouldn't have done it, would I?" He Cub points
      out, chewing. He picks up some bacon, stuffing that in as well. "'m 
      waiting to see if Anthony gets better, stops acting like that. Las' night 
      he came back after w'rds, 'n was back to acting all submissive. The 
      wol... my instincts, or whatever, was not happy that we got torn up for 
      nothing." The cub finishes relating all this, now focusing on the process 
      of eating.

Salem snorts. "_You_ got torn up for nothing," he corrects again, relentlessly.
      "You may be getting better control over your instincts, but until you 
      stop pretending they're someone else, you'll never control them 
      adequately. Not enough to do your duty."

"Yeah... Right..." Josh replies curtly, shaking his head minutely. "Ah guess
      it's kinda hard to think of it as me when it's so darned noisy..." He 
      mutters, looking down to Salem's feet.

Salem folds his arms across his chest. "Noisy?"

Joshua reaches for some more toast, tearing off some with a little more force
      then nessicary. "Keeps tell'n me how ta do stuff. All the time, 'ven when 
      I'm in Human. Bloody instincts, or whatever you wanna call them, aren't 
      happy 'less 'm in wolf form."

Salem purses his lips, his expression thoughtful. He paces the room, his form
      shrinking back down to homid. "Recite the Litany," he orders, abruptly.

Joshua is caught with some food in his mouth, and so he swallows, before
      starting in. No notes or anything, he recites the list from front to end 
      without pause. "... no action that will cause a caern to be violated." He 
      finishes. Looking up to Salem expectantly. "'sthat good?"

Salem nods. "Name the five auspices." Apparantly, it's a pop quiz.

"Ahroun, Galliard, Philodox, Theruge 'n Ragabash." He answers, nodding his head
      to the wall hangings. "... K.C. Rhya taught me that when she was tell'n 
      me the names of all the Glyphs." He explains.

Salem nods again, approvingly. "And the three breeds of Garou?"

"Homid, Lupus and..." Josh stops abruptly, wrinkling his nose. "There's a third
      one?" He asks, canting his head.

"Metis, the offspring of two Garou." Salem's expression is bland. "They're born
      in Crinos and are, every one, sterile and deformed in some way."

"Oh." Josh turns back to the plate, look contemplative. "Yeah, Jer told me
      about c..." He coughs as he cuts himself off, suddenly self-conscience. 
      "... Uh, told me 'bout that." Joshua tries to cover his tracks, verbally 
      backing up.

Salem's eyes narrow suspiciously, but after a moment, he lets it go. "Now.
      Cosmology. The Triat, our purpose. What do you know about that?"

Joshua takes a deep breath in preparation for his worst run on explanation
      ever. "Gaia sits at the top, below her are three things the Wyrm ,the 
      Weaver 'n the Wyld, 'n the Wyld is creation and Chaos 'n the Weaver is 
      organization and order, 'n the Wyrm is corruption and decay 'n the Wyrm 
      is insane 'n it hurts Gaia 'n so the Garou are expected ta go around and 
      fight anything from the wyrm 'n there's stuff called the umbra 'n it's 
      the spirit world 'n it's separated from us by the a gauntlet 'n ghosts 
      and spirits are two different things 'n everything has a spirit." 
      Finished, he breaths again, out of breath from the nonstop talking.

Salem purses his lips, then nods. "Adequate." He glances around, then says,
      "Wait here," and leaves the cub alone in the tower for a few minutes.

Joshua does as Salem requests of him, remaining in the room. While the elder is
      out, he feverishly stuffs his face with the last of the food, downing it 
      as fast as he can.

Salem returns with a black duffle bag and tosses it on the floor near Joshua's
      feet. "Pack up. You're moving."

Joshua was finishing off the orange juice when Salem comes back in, and the
      comment causes him to choke on it. Setting down the glass, he coughs, 
      looking shocked up to Salem. "Moving?" He asks, not believing what he is 
      hearing.

"Moving," the elder confirms. "Out near the caern, the Sept keeps a safehouse,
      like this one only it's on farmland, near the woods. You're going to live 
      there for a while."

"But... but I like it here!" Joshua replies, panicking. "I mean, I can't leave
      here... I..." He fumbles with his jaw, unable to stammer out anything 
      further.

"Until you integrate your instincts and your conscious mind," Salem tells him,
      "you can't be trusted to run around loose, and out there you'll have a 
      lot less chance to escape." He smiles humorlessly. "They don't even have 
      a phone. Plus, you'll get to interact with other Garou. Practice shifting 
      more. Fighting. Language."

"But I made them a promise, I can't leave!" The words are no sooner out of his
      mouth then he covers his mouth with his hands, a look of pure horror 
      dawning on him. Apparently he didn't mean to let that slip out...

Salem's eyes narrow. "Them. The ghosts?"

Joshua slowly moves backwards, wide eyed as he keeps his mouth covered. He
      makes no noise other than a low whimpering.

Salem's frown deepens. He advances on the cub slowly. "Tell. Me." The shrill
      voice holds a note of threatening command, an unspoken 'or else'.

Joshua tenses, trembling under the advance. The cub breaks under the unspoken
      threat, stammering out, "I... I promised I'd help protect Max from what's 
      coming... 'n that I'd keep them safe..."

"What's coming?" Even in homid, the Walker Elder seems to loom. "You said it
      was a cycle, and the cycle was ending. Or ended."

Joshua shakes his head. "I... I don't know." He shakily stands up, cradling his
      mangled arm, and seems to gain some degree of resolution from the motion. 
      "... but I'm going to protect them. If it can't be done, He'd never 
      asked. Max is my friend, and I am not going to leave him 'n break my 
      promise."

Salem snorts. "What are you going to do? If you think I'm going to let you
      fight, you're wrong. You've helped by passing along information, very 
      good, but your role in this is _done_. Now pack up."

Despite the wounds, Joshua crosses his arms as he stands up strait. "Are you so
      flexible with your promises to others as you want me to be?" He quietly 
      demands. "I promised I would try and protect them. I don't care how, but 
      I _will_ make good on my oath."

Salem bares his teeth in a way that's nothing much like a grin. "You promised
      you would try. Good. You've tried. Now _pack_ the damned _bag_ or I will 
      drag you out there with just the fucking clothes on your _back_."

The repeat of the order was enough to kick the cub where it hurt the most: in
      the head. Instinctively, he lowers his head, slouching from his erect 
      stance. "This is all my cloths..." He explains weak and submissively. 
      "Just have this 'n my notebooks."

Salem kicks the empty duffle bag across the floor toward Joshua. "Pack." Then
      he folds his arms and waits.

The glyphs are pulled down in quick order, stuffed into the first of the
      notebooks, and the last of the Cub's meager possessions aren't far behind 
      those: two books from Rina, one that Cat left for him, and the other two 
      notebooks. This is all thrown into the bag, barely filling a quarter of 
      it, and the bag is zipped and slung over his shoulder. "Max... I hope yer 
      awake." He calls out to seeming no one. "Go back to the others. There's 
      safety in numbers. I'll be back as fast as I can."

Salem says nothing; once the cub's packed up, he opens the door and ushers the
      kid downstairs -- like a guard escorting a prisoner to the electric chair.
Salem stops at the hall closet to get his coat, gloves, and hat; he takes out a
      second coat as well, a thick wool one that looks like it came from an 
      army-navy store. He hands it over; it's about Joshua's size.

Then, once they're both bundled for the cold, Salem leads the cub out to the
      Yugo and then it's a long, long trip eastward -- out of the city, past 
      Kent Crossing, and into the farmlands near the woods.

[Travel to Farmhouse snipped]

Salem parks the Yugo and turns to Joshua, glowering. "Rules to keep in mind,"
      he says curtly. "One. No shifting in the house or right outside it. Shift 
      in the woods or the barn. Two. Respect your elders. And three. Remember 
      that your actions relect on your tribe, and me." He starts to get out, 
      then pauses and adds, "And if you try to escape, I will hunt you down, 
      and I _will_ find you. Understood?"

Joshua sets his jaw, nodding tightly. But he remains just as morbidly silent as
      he was since for the entire trip, getting out the other side of the Car. 
      He cradles his mangled arm to his chest as he reaches in, shouldering the 
      nearly empty duffel. All in all he doesn't seem happy about this at all.

[Into the house]

In the back of the house, Alicia squints her eyes a bit. "Just that someone is
      coming." She shrugs her shoulders some, putting the last plate in the 
      sink, running the water over it. "What was that about Dak?"

Salem loosens his scarf as he enters, accompanied by a sullen-looking cub with
      a busted arm and a duffle bag. He cocks his head at the sound of voices 
      from the kitchen, then taps Joshua on the shoulder. "You can drop your 
      things upstairs," he mutters to the cub, pointing toward the stairs.

In the back of the house, Olga continues looking, and her her bones buckle and
      shrink and snap back into place, as her skin tightens and she pops back 
      into Homid form, the better to greet whoever might be coming. "Dakota? 
      She's tough, but, ah, indepedent, I guess 's the word I'm lookin' for. A 
      bit of lupine hierarchy'll be good for 'er."

Joshua nods tightly, gazing up the stairway for a moment, before breaking his
      silence. "When canni go back home?" He asks sullenly, not looking back to 
      Salem.

In the back of the house, Alicia nods her head. "She is tough. She's a lot like
      me, which is kinda scary." She says, drawing her eyes towards Salem and 
      the new cub. She knits her brows slightly, then heads to the doorway to 
      peer out. She slowly nods her head. "Jack."

"When you're ready," comes the curt reply to the cub. The Walker Elder's still
      suffering the curse of the Jackal, but he's talking anyway. Go figure. He 
      nudges Josh. "Go drop off your things and then come downstairs to meet 
      people. And stop sulking, dammit."

In the back of the house, Olga remains seated at the kitchen table, munching
      away at her pancakes, occasionally sipping her apple juice. She tilts her 
      head slightly to be able to better hear the conversation and goings-on in 
      the front of the house, and occasionally peeks curiously out the door.

"Yer not the one who was just forced to break his promise..." The cub growls
      back, slouching up the stairs with his nearly empty bag of possessions. 
      He murmurs something under his breath, uncomplimentary, and not English.

In the back of the house, Eyes of brown slowly watch the cub travel up the
      stairs, until they draw away and recede once more into the kitchen. 
      Alicia slips her hands into her jeans and walks back to the kitchen 
      table, regarding Olga silently as she eats.

Salem snorts. He takes out his pocketwatch, glancing at it and grimacing like a
      bad-tempered version of the White Rabbit. Looking into the kitchen, he 
      gives Alicia a nod and says, "I have to go. Call me if he acts up." And 
      then he heads out.