"He's /your/ packmate, too. What do /you/ think?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 16:33 Pacific Time on Tue Jul 25 2017.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 84 degrees Fahrenheit (28 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northeast at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.01 and falling, and the relative humidity is 31 percent. The dewpoint is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (13% full).

It's quiet at Edgewood; at least- quieter than the last few months have been for many of the garou in the Pacific Northwest region. Emma is currently the lone inhabitant of the house's lower level and she's slowly walking around the front room, eyes drifting from one corner of the space to the other in quiet reflection.

Salem lets himself in through the front door, catching it before it slams shut and testing the movement of the door hinges. He hmphs, mutters, "Little sticky," and then shrugs, letting it close.

Emma looks up and over at the door, a smile catching her features. "Place has been through hell, right? I suppose most of our places run that gambit at some point though." Her fingers fall from the stone of the fireplace.

Salem wrinkles his nose. "I'm just glad we still have this one." He shoves his hands into his pockets and moves to join her. "The tenement's still standing, too. I wouldn't feel safe /living/ there, but I think it'd be a useful meeting place once in a while."

Emma shakes her head with a soft tchkt, "Sucks how often we have to erase a safe spot. I still gotta check the Brownstone, but that place doesn't get much of our traffic anyway." She looks over to her alpha then, "It's the down-shift that's throwing me now. I'm antsy. You got any tricks 'n tips to deal with that?"

Salem raises an eyebrow. "Down-shift?"

The front door opens again, but this time it's Ghost who slips inside. She looks a little drawn, a little irritable, although the latter seems to be just a trace and fading, seen mostly in the slightly tenser than necessary muscles of her face and neck. She sheds her jacket as she lets the door close, leaving two layers of shirt and hoodie still to contend with.

Emma is just answering her packmate, "I've been on the hunt for months. It was- it was like the Amazon, but in a jungle of concrete and steel. I was so looking forward to the rest after it was over, and now I..." she clenches her jaw for a moment. "I'm still all hyped up. I know there's more to do he-" and then she looks toward the front door, "Ghost!" she calls out, and the tone that carries that name is pleased surprise.

Salem glances over at the door and raises a hand in a brief wave to the new arrival. "As far as I can tell, there's still plenty to do," he says, turning back to Emma. "The Nothing is still an issue."

Ghost looks up, a little visibly startled. "Oh, um. Hi!" She offers half a wave, in-between looping her jacket around her waist. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

Emma grins wider, "Nothing to worry about, I'm just getting resituated. Wasn't sure you'd still be around when I got back, glad you are." Salem gets a nod, "Yeah, I know. And I'm ready for whatever I can do to help on that- but /that/ business, the figuring out part?" A simple, honest shake of her head. "Not my area."

"I take it you haven't had any significant dreams yet, then?" Salem gives a tight, humorless smile.

"No one's told me to leave yet," Ghost replies. It's not clear if that's meant as a joke. It doesn't sound like a joke. It doesn't sound entirely straight either, however. She glances back at the door, then meanders into the main room and continues for the kitchen. "I met the, um, the new Warder. Does that mean that Child of Gaia's gone too? I heard Thane's split."

Emma narrows her gaze at Salem, "Since getting back, no... I mean, I got a little to into the mix before I left." She nods then toward Ghost, "She helped me out quite a bit at that point. But no- nothing new." To the newest arrival she nods, "So I hear as well. Thane gone, Alicia gone, a few others. And not with the promise to return I'm assuming?" Salem gets this question.

"Thane, Alicia, Dakota..." Salem's mouth thins. "Possibly some others. And, no, no word that they plan to return."

Ghost stops in place for a moment. Her eyebrows lift, her mouth pinches. "...I'm not really sorry to hear it, sir," she says. "Ma'am."

Emma waves a non-chalant hand at Ghost, "Emma, c'mon." And she gives a faint bob of her head, "The timing and circumstances aren't great, but, there's a- yeah." And she leaves it at that too. "Though it leaves us a bit up in the air right now."

Salem rolls his eyes a bit at the 'sir'. To Emma, he says, "For now, but I suspect it won't be for long. A few of the vacated posts have been claimed already, ne? And two challengers for Alphaship."

Ghost ducks into the kitchen. A moment later comes the sound of running water, and the clatter of cupboards. She's not gone long, and she returns with a filled water glass.

Emma nods to that, "Salem?" The Get woman turns serious eyes on the Walker, "Does Slug really want it? Or is he pulling this as a way of making a point to Mouse?"

Salem raises both eyebrows. "He's /your/ packmate, too. What do /you/ think?"

Ghost sips at her water, but for the moment she stays quiet, listening.

Emma lifts a shoulder, "He's grown a lot, I mean... a lot, a lot. But how much leading has he done? Or ever acted like he's wanted to do."

Salem glances over at Ghost, then back at Emma. "A fair point." He leans back against the wall and idly scruffs at overlong black hair. "What do you think of Jamethon as alpha?"

"I don't really know him," Ghost offers, although her tone makes it clear that she's not really sure the question is directed at her. "Either of them," she tacks on.

Emma moves to one of the chairs, climbing up to sit on the arm and rest her feet (bare of shoes) on the actual seat cushion. "I don't know on Jamethon. He's always had aspirations, which is at least something. I don't mean for alpha necessarily, but he's keen on growing, taking on more responsibility. Is it weird that I don't know how I feel about a Fenrir as Sept alpha here?"

"It really depends on the Fenrir, doesn't it?" Salem shoves his hands back into his pockets and frowns. "I've had... issues with Jamethon in the past, but he's more Theurge than Get, and he's... well, he's honest, at least."

"How honest?" Ghost asks. She takes a drink from her glass, then lowers it. "I uh, it's not any of my business yet, I know, but how are either of them likely to react to..." she gestures broadly at herself.

Emma nods at Salem, grinning a bit. "Yeah, I mean, Jamethon was an elder to me during my cubhood. He was fair, strict and kind of aloof at times- but, like you said, Theurge. I get that now." She glances toward Ghost then, "You've met Slug I thought? If I had to guess, Jamethon would be quicker to take a hard no for the best of the Sept. I get the feeling Slug would fight for the longshot yes." She pauses, frowning a bit, "Which sounds a lot like me, so I have little room to use that as a judgement for or against."

Salem looks at Ghost. "If Jamethon says something, promises something, I'd be prone to believe it. He's... well, he's the opposite of sneaky. Slug's more devious, but usually for a good cause."

Ghost grunts. She doesn't look all that reassured. "I've met them," she says to Emma. "But I don't really know either of them."

A car pulls up along the gravel drive, coming to a halt just outside.

Emma points at Salem, "He's got the right of it. I also feel like Jamethon would be willing to take a lot of advisement. He's proud, but he's not arrogant."

Salem, at the sound of the car, pushes off the wall and heads to a window to look out.

"Yeah," Ghost says slowly, "but..." She glances over as Salem goes to look out the window. "I mostly mean my, um, my particular...connection, or whatever you want to call it. With Hanford. Or whatever the fuck it is. Thane thought it was /useful/." She puts a very unpleasant sort of emphasis on the word.

The engine of the older model car shuts off, and Salem sees Nolan emerge, closing the driver's side door behind him as he heads toward the house.

A young man of average height and athletic build, he is generally seen with a cunning smile and an easy manner. His dark hair is cut short, just enough length that the waves take form. (If he let it grow out, it would probably lead to unruly curls.) His eyes are green, or perhaps hazel, depending on the light. His skin is pale and freckled, and his cheekbones, while not extreme, are prominent. The straight nose and strong chin can lead to a more stern impression, but it's broken easily when he grins.

Today he wears a simple grey hoodie with a Red Sox logo on the front. His denim jeans are, if not new, well cared for, as are the blue and grey tennis shoes beneath. Around his neck, visible against the grey of the sweatshirt, he wears a pendant of carved, black stone strung on a thin cord of braided leather.

"And I think you're a /person/. Not a tool. You wanna help, that's your call. Fuck Thane." Emma says this rather adamantly. "Someone claims alpha and makes a move to treat you like some disposable accessory, I will be on them in a heartbeat."

Salem turns away from the window. "Seconded."

Ghost gives a brief, wan smile, then finishes off her glass of water. "Who's outside?"

And at that point, Nolan is no longer outside, but opening the door to the inside. "Howdy," he offers, even before his eyes adjust to the difference in light, and he offers a lazy salute as he closes the door behind him.

Emma gives a nod of greeting to the newcomer, "Evening Nolan. Good to see you again," offers the Get.

Salem nods to Nolan in greeting and moves away from the window to sprawl into an easy chair nearby.

Ghost stands up a little straighter as Nolan enters. "Hey," she says. And that's all she says for a moment, before she waves her now empty glass. "Do you, um, want some water?"

"Evening," Nolan returns to Emma with a grin. "Water's good. Anybody else? I've got a pair of hands available."

Emma shakes her head, "N'thanks. I'm just catching up on things since getting back. Looking for something to... fight, I guess."

Salem stretches and slouches deeper into the easy chair, arms folded across his chest. "Come for a run with me sometime. I can show you some nice spots to hunt banes."

Ghost nods at Nolan, and then once more ducks into the kitchen. She flips on the faucet, opens the cupboards. Another plastic cup is produced. It's not likely Edgewood really goes in for glassware.

Nolan casts a glance over his shoulder to Salem as he follows Ghost into the kitchen. "Really?"

Emma looks quite relieved to hear that offer, and so the nod comes emphatically. "Absolutely. Give me the heads up next time you make that run, I'll be there." She glances toward the kitchen then, "You still working on the Ooze stuff Nolan?"

Salem looks over at Nolan and gives a thin, crooked little smile. "There are always banes to kill, nests to clear. It's mainly a matter of making sure you don't bite off more than handle."

There's two knocks on the back door to the kitchen, announcing someone's arrival. Said individual then simply lets himself in. "Good evening," a familiar felinesque voice says as a cloaked figure enters. Some might recognize the form/attire Brings-the-Pack has used on a few occasions at the caern.

Ghost shuts off the faucet and returns, two glasses of water in hand. She offers one wordlessly to Nolan. The cloaked figure gets eyed for a moment, but she clearly recognizes him.

Imagine a mysterious, robed and hooded Jedi from Star Wars. That's very nearly what's before you.

This figure stands at a mundane height of about five-and-a-half feet tall. The simple, dark, earth-brown robe looks as if it came straight out of Qui-Gon Jinn's wardrobe, ready to be used on a Star Wars movie set. The large hood, draped amply over an unseen head, throws shadows over the wearer's facial features, masking his (her?) identity--even in daylight. The voice tends to be masculine though, with a peculiarly sensual feline purr as an accent.

The Star Wars attire ends at the robes, though the rest of the figure's matching charcoal-grey wardrobe speaks of a certain functionality geared for fluidity of motion: cotton jogging pants, cotton t-shirt, fingerless tactical gloves, and Puma crosstrainer sneakers--all popular gear with parkour enthusiasts. There's a pungent scent of recently applied DEET coming from his clothing that utterly overwhelms any other notable scents.

Nolan takes the cup, a brief study of the robed man before he nods to both and returns to the other room. "That would, indeed, be the key," he says to the youth. "And you have some ready places to go looking, where you can be relatively certain you're not biting off too much?"

Emma looks at Salem and then back to herself, "The two of us, unless we got ridiculously sloppy, might be hard pressed to find too much to handle, unless Salen's found some rather brutal hunting grounds." It's then that another arrival shows up, and just as she's about to give it a questioning look, the greeting hits her ears. There's a sharp intake of breath poorly hidden; pleased excitment forcibly restrained. "Evening," she offers back.

Salem eyeballs the robed figure, then lifts a hand in a wave. To Nolan, he says, "As certain as one can be."

The sound of the front door opening and closing can be heard (or seen), Edgewood's not-quite-temporary Garage resident stepping into the main building. She looks-- alert, for not being the least bit well rested, gaze going immediately to those gathered and, upon approach, locking on the robed figure.

Locking specifically on the shadows surrounding its/his face.

There's a kind of uncertainty in her expression that speaks to the kind of rarified incredulity that tends to make itself known in the face of the truly surreal, Sandra's gaze flicking from one person to the next as if to confirm that she is, indeed, seeing things correctly.

Brings-the-Pack follows behind Ghost, exiting the kitchen and entering the main room where the others have gathered. The hood inclines in a silent greeting, but for now the figure stays silent, likely not wishing to interfere with the ongoing conversation. He stands near the wall. Sandra, belatedly, gets a separate nod as she enters.

Ghost looks just the tiniest bit uncomfortable at this point. She plants her back to the wall near the kitchen door, and sips her water. Her eyes are fixed on the others, but not on any one particular person. Nolan, however, gets the least of the scrutiny, only a few passing glances at most.

Nolan takes a sip from his cup and goes to sit on the fifth step, where he can still see everyone and participate, but isn't in the way, leaning over, at one point, to offer Ghost a smile. "Interesting," he offers to Salem as he moves, and as Sandra comes in, he gives a bit of a greeting, with a lift of his cup and a nod of his head.

"Well, huh. Thirty minutes ago I was practically talking to the walls here, and now we're at standing room only." Emma's faint smile goes a bit sober as everyone gets quieter, and tension becomes noticable. "So, I'm Emma. Recently returned, but this is my home sept." The nod is given mostly to Sandra at this point, as the Get Ahroun gives a quick bit of scrutiny to the taller woman.

Salem excuses himself and heads upstairs.