It is currently 11:25 Pacific Time on Tue Feb 17 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (21% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 41 degrees
Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric
pressure reading is 29.84 and falling, and the relative humidity is 93
percent. The dewpoint is 39 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.)
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.
Glancing between the two as he settles himself into a chair, Jeremy raises up a
brow. He seems interested in the interaction, slightly.
Natalie's got her right hand stuck out toward Trevor. The other curls around
the handle of a mug. The Walker Galliard doesn't look like she's about to
leap upon the Fianna; in fact she seems fairly relaxed.
Salem enters from the front door, shrugging out of his big black leather coat
as he does so; the Elder's face is withdrawn and pensive.
Taking Natalie's hand in his own, Trevor shakes it firmly. He dosn't
immediately notice Salem enter, glancing from Natalie to Jeremy and back
again thoughtfully.
"Good morning sir." Jeremy says, glancing up from his PDA, for a change, not
Goth'd out. Black jeans, a thick gray sweater and sneakers. No collar.
Surprise, surprise.
Natalie winces at the pressure of the handshake; retrieving her hand it's seen
that the skin of her fingers is flushed pink. "Nice to um..." Salem's
entrance snags her attention as well; she nods past Trevor's shoulder.
"There he is now. Morning."
Salem finishes hanging up his coat and slips the mirror shades into a shirt
pocket. He's looking remarkably corporate, though long-time residents of
the Dominion have occasionally seen him dressed in the plain, dark gray
business suit before. Loosening the black necktie, he wanders toward the
parlor entrance, gaze focussing almost immediately on Trevor. "Morning."
"Something wrong?" Asks Trevor, noting the wince, before turning to see Salem.
"Morning, Salem-Rhya. I'd be hoping to catch you at home."
Anthony walks in through the front door a little after Salem does, putting the
binder in his hand on the floor for a moment so he can take off his
jacket, then scooping it back up as he heads for the parlor, opening it
and paging through it idly.
Jeremy leans back and relaxes some in the chair, glancing over towards Tony. He
offers a slow nod of his head, before tending back to his PDA that he had
fished out once more, tapping a few more things away.
"And your wish has been granted, it seems," the Walker Elder grunts. He lets
Anthony pass him into the parlor, then follows. "What can I do for you...
Trevor, right?"
"Just spilled some tea," Nat answers quietly, sipping at the aforementioned as
she retreats to stand beside Jeremy's chair. "Hey, Anthony."
"Right, Salem-Rhya." Trevor nods in confirmation. "Need to talk to you about
Rites, that being my department and all. And from what I've heard from
Jeremy, we need to get some sort of easy access to a Theurge going for
you guys."
"Hey," Anthony replies casually, glancing up momentarily and waving with his
free hand, heading for a chair.
Salem's eyes narrow slightly. His gaze flicks to Jeremy, then back to Trevor.
"Cat will be Riting at the end of the month," he says coolly. "And I'll
likely be packing with Cutter and Jean, too... once we can organize
someone to perform the Totem ritual."
Jeremy lifts up a shoulder in a slight shrug towards Salem, before looking back
to Trevor.
Natalie leans down to murmur something to Jeremy, her eyes watching the other
Garou curiously.
Jeremy glances upwards slightly at Natalie, offering a smile before leaning
forward, whispering back against her ear, then turns back to his PDA.
Getting the impression Salem isn't interested in cooperation, Trevor presses on
regardless. "Well, I can do that for you if you want."
Natalie huhs thoughtfully, then nods, offering Jer another sottovoice comment.
Salem lifts a brow. "Can you? Good. Do you know the Rite of Cleansing?" His
tone suggests that he'll be surprised if Trevor says 'no'.
Jeremy nods his head slightly, tapping Natalie on the arm as he continues to
whisper to her, smiling a bit wider.
Anthony glances up at the conversation before settling into a chair and turning
back to the binder, reading through it and the tables and diagrams it
contained more carefully now.
Natalie grins, showing a hint of teeth, but turns her attention to Trevor and
Salem. Nobody here but us flies on the ceiling.
Why do they always ask the difficult questions? Trevor has to admit that the
answer is in fact "No. But, I know people who can perform it for you and
it is on my list to learn."
Salem's mouth thins. "On mine as well, as it happens. Megan knows it." He heads
for his usual armchair (like any head of the house, the Elder has 'his'
chair and woe befall anyone else who dares sit in it), shrugging out of
the suit jacket as he does so. "What rites _do_ you know?"
A corner of Nat's mouth lifts, perhaps at the sight of questioner questioned.
"Hey," she says, kicking lightly at Jeremy's chair to catch his
attention, then drops her voice again.
Jeremy rises upwards from his spot and pockets his device again. "Hey. I'm
going to take off for a bit. I got about thirty hours of video to .... "
Kick. He looks over to Nat. "Word?"
Natalie snorts good-naturedly. "Gaia forbid. All right, I'll talk to you about
it later."
Jeremy rises upwards from his seat, grinning a bit. He gives her a slight bump
as he shoulders his bag. "I'll be upstairs in the conference room. Just
come find me later, we'll snag lunch."
Feeling rather inadaequete in his job all of a sudden, Trevor reels off the
list. "Questing Stone, Moot Rite, Talisman Dedication, Wounding, Passage,
Awakening, Totem, Huntfire, Sand in Shoes, Housekeeping, Litany of the
Ancestors and Lughs Touch, Salem-Rhya. Currently learning Binding." He
looks over art Natalie and Jeremy thoughtfully again, glancing between
them.
Salem glances over and gives Jeremy a nod as the kinfolk leaves. Then, with his
jacket draped carefully over the back, he settles into his chair and
turns back to Trevor, his mismatched eyes cool. After listening to the
litany of rituals, he raises an eyebrow. "Why learn Binding before
Cleansing?"
"You wish," Nat retorts, waiting until Jeremy's standing before stealing his
chair. "Later." She settles herself down, looking quite comfortable to be
playing obvious eavesdropper.
Jeremy snorts as he peers down at Natalie, then shrugs his shoulders. Eyes roll
heavenwards for a moment, before returning the nod to Salem. "She shoulda
been born a new moon. Always stealing chairs." With that, he starts up
the stairs, yawning to himself.
"It was offered to me, Salem-Rhya, by someone who was teaching as Chiminage.
That is why I am learning it before Cleansing." Trevor explains.
"Artemis? The Fury?" Salem's expression remains bland as he regards Trevor.
Anthony glances up for a moment at Salem at the mention of the Fury, then back
down at his book, taking a pen from his shirt pocket and starting to
underline things.
"Yes Salem-Rhya, Artemis." Trevor nods. He's fully aware. Furies and Fianna,
especially male Fianna, are not supposed to get on.
Salem says, blandly, "Interesting." He leans back, elbows propped on the arms
of the chair and his fingers laced loosely together. "You're a Galliard,
aren't you, Trevor?"
"That's right, Salem-Rhya." Trevor nods. He can almost hear the thoughts. But
after recent events, this is one position he'll have to be scraped out of.
Natalie's gaze flicks from Salem-and-Trevor to Anthony, then back. She taking a
last drink from her mug before setting it on the floor, then leans into
her chair, fingers of both hands drumming lightly on her thighs.
The Fianna can almost hear the thoughts... or is it just the voices of his own
perceived inadequacies. Salem simply nods and says, "You can pass some
news for me, then."
Anthony continues his underlining spree, shifting in his chair a little.
"Of course, Salem-Rhya." Trevor replies, shaking his head slightly to clear it.
Salem leans back, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "The
first is for Megan herself, though it's no secret. Natalie here," -- he
indicates the Walker Galliard with a nod -- "is new in town and would
like to touch base with the Sept Alpha, as is proper." He smiles thinly.
"She's staying here at the Dominion, for the moment anyway." The smile
vanishes, his expression turning more somber. "The other bit of news is
for the Sept at large, especially those Garou who spend any time in the
city, and it's a warning that should be spread widely."
Natalie grins ferally again, teeth flashing for a breath before she controls
herself. No no, calm. Cool. Collected.
"Right, I'll get that to Megan-Rhya right away." Trevor replies when Salem
mentions the first part. His own expression becomes buisnesslike to
reflect Salem's. "A warning. I see."
Salem nods. "A warning." He frowns. "There is an organized criminal element in
the city right now. A... Russian mafia. We have reason to believe that
they're not, at least at the top, merely human, and we have strong reason
to believe that they are of the Wyrm, even if they don't know the Enemy
as we do. Operations are under way to deal with them and remove their
stench from St. Claire, but any Garou coming within the city needs to
exercise some extra care and caution. At least one member of this
organization can turn invisible at will, leap like a lupus with the
kangaroo Gift, and can withstand bullets without flinching. Gaia only
knows what other members are capable of. _Also_... at least one encounter
with them has been recorded on tape. Fortunately, none of our people
exhibited any Veil-breeching behaviors... but next time, who knows?" His
eyes narrow; he glowers at the Fianna. "In short, beware who you deal
with and beware of shifting or doing _anything_ overtly supernatural."
Anthony puts the pen down, chewing his lip and considering the warning as well.
He glances over at Natalie, then back down to his book, though it doesn't
look like he's reading it any more.
Clearly listening intently, Trevor nods when Salem is finished. "I shall spread
the word, Salem-Rhya."
Salem nods once. "Good," he says curtly. "Is there anything else?"
"No Salem-Rhya." Trevor replies, bowing his head slightly. What is it about
this man that has him feeling like a cub again?
The Pure Breed? No; Trevor's just as well-bred. Maybe it's the eyes, the
thousand-yard 'I've eaten things that'd make you wet yourself' stare.
That Salem doesn't sound like a chihuahua with a throat cold anymore
probably helps the intimidation factor a lot. "Good," he says again,
getting up. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get changed and such. Feel
free to stay as long as you wish, Trevor." A nod toward hospitality --
and a nod, too, to his tribemates as he heads for his rooms at the back
of the house.
Natalie makes a move as if to stand as well, then apparently thinks better of
it, for she only gathers up her mug. "Rhya - do I have your permission to
discuss Rites with Trevor?"
Salem, taking up his suit jacket, arches a brow at Natalie and nods.
"Certainly."
"Thank you, Salem-Rhya." Trevor replies. He seems about to move, when Natalie
speaks up and he waits.
[...]
Everyone's still where Salem left them - well, except for Anthony who has
disappeared. Nat's still in possession of Jer's chair, though. "Of course
he does," Natalie says brightly, with just a hint of an edge.
Salem returns, freshly showered and dressed far more casually, business as
usual. He makes a detour through the kitchen to grab an apple and then
pokes his head into the parlor.
Trevor sighs, checking the time. "I should be going. It's been nice talking to
you, but I have much to do."
Natalie says "I'm sure you do," as she draws her legs back under her and
stands. Her attention's on the other cliath, and not on sneaky Elders.
"It was good to meet you, Trevor."
Salem takes a bite out of his apple, chews and swallows. "Good timing. I just
got off the phone with Megan." He gives Trevor an amused look, then turns
to Natalie. "Feel like a drive?"
"And to meet you, Natalie." When Salem makes his pronouncement, Trevor returns
the amused look. It was indeed good timing.
Natalie doesn't either leap for the Philodox, shrieking her joy. Nono, she just
turns quickly, expression lightening. "Absolutely. Let me just go put
this," She hoists the 'this', her mug, "into the dishwasher. Who's
driving?" Trevor gets a distracted farewell nod.
"I am." Salem moves out of the parlor doorway to give Trevor room to make his
exit and takes another bite out of his apple.
Nodding farewell to each, Trevor leaves. He seems thoughtful.
Trevor makes his way to the front doors of the mansion, passing through the
double doors and out to the rest of the estate.
"Gotcha." She eels past Salem and down the hall; when she returns she's
mugless. "Lay on, Macduff."
[...]
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
biting cold of winter is tempered somewhat by the sheltering of the roof,
but it is still enough to make the porch an inhospitable place to tarry
for long. Even the low shrubs seem to avoid it, their leafless woody
stems closed in tight upon themselves.
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.
Salem's rust-orange Yugo pulls up the gravel drive and parks to one side of the
farmhouse. The Walker himself gets out of the driver's side a moment
later, dressed in the usual long black coat -- bundled against the chill,
of course -- and black mirror-lensed sunglasses.
Megan is settled in what is becoming one of her usual places, on the swing of
the porch, wrapped up in a blanket along with her coat, and watching the
light rain sweeping the grey-green vista that is the farm's 'front yard'.
Her head tilts with interest as the car pulls up, and she gives a wave of
her hand in greeting when Salem emerges.
Natalie closes the door of the Yugo firmly, her hands in her jeans pockets as
she turns a small circle. "Huh. Very... rural. This the Farm Trevor was
talking about?"
"This is it," Salem confirms. "Doesn't even have a phone." He shrugs, then
leads the other Walker up to the porch, lifting his hand in greeting
toward the woman sitting on the swing.
Megan glances to Salem's companion, quirking an eyebrow curiously, but nods in
confirmation of his statement. "Afternoon, Jack," she says flatly,
neither warmly friendly nor coolly hostile--perhaps 'polite' is the best
description of her tone.
Natalie falls in behind Salem, her shoulders hunched against the chill and
rain. "Primitive." That's her last word until they're safely up on the
porch.
Salem dips his head respectfully to the Fianna. "Afternoon, Megan-rhya." A
touch of excessive formality, but it emphasizes both who the woman is and
her comparative standing to his own. A glance at Natalie indicates this,
at least partly, for her benefit.
Natalie steps out from behind Salem, literally if not figuratively, her chin
jerking up enough to display throat. "Natalie Baker, called
Holds-the-Line. Glass Walker, Galliard, and Cliath."
Salem idly positions himself so that he's partially blocking the stairs off the
porch. His eye goes to Megan, watching the elder Philodox's reactions to
Natalie carefully.
Megan gives a faint sigh of what might be interpreted as 'relief', a slight
tugging on the corners of her mouth, amusement which is smoothed away as
she assesses Natalie with an expression which suddenly turns shrewd. Her
nostrils flare briefly as the examination stretches the silence, before
she gives another nod, relaxing perceptibly from a tension which may not
have even been noticable as she cracks a smile. "Jack may have already
filled you in, but, Megan O'Brien, called Firewatcher or Keeps her
Patience, philodox of the Fianna. Welcome to the Sept of the Hidden Walk,
Natalie." Her gaze slides to Salem and back, asking, "You finding
everything okay?"
Salem's posture eases back slightly as Megan registers approval; he smiles
faintly and folds his arms across his chest.
Natalie glances sidelong at Salem; her own arm-folding is aborted, her hands
tucking back into her jeans pockets instead. "After a fashion, rhya. My
Elder still has me working on Chiminage, so I haven't had much time to
explore. I know where the Lowes is, though."
Megan genuinely laughs at this, eyes continuing to sparkle with amusement after
the sound fades. "Call me Megan. Or Megan-rhya if you insist on using the
honorific," she adds, then, "What are you doing for Chiminage?" she asks
conversationally.
"I'm having her build a greenhouse for the Dominion," Salem says, smiling
crookedly. "Since she has some skill in that area."
Natalie, about to answer, closes her mouth and inclines her head toward Salem.
"I've got a contractor's license back home. Trying to decide if I want to
pick one up here, or knock about doing general construction for a while."
Megan's interest seems piqued. "Construction. Interesting profession for a
Garou. So, you're planning on sticking around for a while?"
Salem steps back and leans against the porch railing; he settles into listening
mode.
"A while, probably. Depending." Her eyes flick over at Salem again before she
returns her attention to the Fianna. "I like it. Hours are good, pay's
decent, and you can always count on finding work. Plus," she grins
crookedly, "When the moon's big you can beat the shit out of nails and no
one cares."
"Unless of course you break the board, too," Megan says with an amused grin.
"Depending on what?" she asks, focusing in on the caveat curiously.
"Well, yeah," Nat allows with a shrug and another grin. "Huh? Oh, depending on
if I find a pack or not." She might say more but doesn't, instead
shivering against a wayward breeze that's come around the corner.
Megan tightens the blanket around her shoulders in the face of the breeze,
continuing with the conversational questioning as if she's a pro at it.
"What kind of pack are you looking to join?"
Salem's gaze goes a little intent as Megan asks her question; he focusses
rather keenly on his tribemate.
"City pack," the Galliard answers immediately. "As for the rest... I used to
pack under Cockroach. I wouldn't mind doing that again. Information
gathering. I can't see myself packing under one of the totems of Respect,
but that could change, depending on the members. War, maybe. Again, it
really depends on who else is there. I haven't been in St. Claire near
long enough to say what 'The City'," she pulls her hands out of her
pockets long enough to make air quotes, "needs. But I know I'd rather be
out doing something than sitting around and figuring out what it all
means."
From behind Natalie, Salem flashes his teeth in a brief, almost feral, smile.
The expression is gone in a moment.
Megan's expression, looks vaguely disappointed and both Glass Walkers can see
it, but recovers. "I'm looking at pulling together an pack dedicated to
information gathering and passing from city to woods and back again, but
I'm looking to base it in Kent Crossing. Sad, really, as I am *wanting*
to recruit at least one galliard, and at least one member of the
ur--Glass Walkers or Bone Gnawer tribes," she says. "So, last questions,
and the inquisition can be done," she says, flashing a fey smile. "What
brought you *here*, specifically? Where did you come from, and why did
you leave there?"
Natalie says "-Really- specifically, I-90 by way of 94. I used to be based out
of the Cities - Minneapolis/St. Paul. Minnesota. Less specifically, I
screwed up pretty big time back home. I decided to see where the road'd
take me, and I'd heard some about this Sept. I figure if I don't fit in
I'll keep going - west to the coast and then down it. Maybe San Fran or
LA. I don't think I'd be comfortable at a Sept based out of Podunk,
Nowhere."
Okay, maybe the inquisition isn't *quite* finished. Megan's eyes narrow of a
sudden. "Screwed up pretty big...what happened?" she asks, but lets her
glance slide to Salem to see his reaction, to see if he knew about this.
Salem doesn't look at all surprised; at Megan's glance, he gives a slight nod
as if to say he's heard about this. But Natalie's the one who gets to
fill in the details, her being a big girl and all.
Natalie doesn't answer at first. She fidgets; hands drawing out of her pockets
and -now- folding over her chest. Just in case her feet decide to answer
for her she studies them... but they don't, the traitors. "I, um...
pushed my Alpha. Too hard. He, um..." Each choppy phrase comes slowly.
"Basically my Pack died around me. And, um, my, my Mom died and Pop and I
weren't... speaking to me anymore." She snorts what could be interpreted
as a laugh. "Extra stubborn, with a side order of stupid."
Megan's narrowed eyes turn throughtful, but then she gives Salem another
meaningful look before letting her expression relax from the intensity.
"This Sept," she explains, ennunciating each word carefully to make her
point, "*is* based out of Podunk, Nowhere. Although St. Claire is
included within the Sept's Protectorate, the Sept, the Caern," she jerks
a thumb eastwards, towards the woods rather than the river, "is out here.
Will you have an issue with that?"
Salem answers Megan's look with a minor shrug, his expression bland.
Natalie thinks for a minute, then two before shaking her head slowly, her eyes
still on the porch floor. "I don't think so. Megan-rhya. I might be
Walker, but Minnesota isn't exactly the Big Apple. Sure it sprawls, but
you only have to drive an hour to go skywatching. I... I'm more
comfortable in the city, but that's not the end-all be-all."
"Good," Megan pronounces, and pushes to her feet to offer a hand out to the
galliard. "Welcome to St. Claire then, Natalie. And, as a galliard, you
get my extra, special request. Communication between the city and woods
has traditionally been atrocious. I've been asking that the galliards
make a concerted effort to help me in rectifying that. I *expect* that,
out of our wordy, storyteller types. Capiche, paisan?" And her Italian
accent's not even that bad.
Salem, who hangs out with a real Italian on a regular basis, stifles an amused
wince.
Natalie looks up from Megan's hand to Megan's face, her eyebrows jumping as she
accepts the handshake. "I'll do my best. I don't know any Italian, but in
the best Minnesota fashion: you bet."
Megan blinks with surprise, then grins, attention diverting to Salem to say
quietly, "Y'know, I think Dale's from that area of the world." Back to
Natalie, she releases her grip, and nods. "Good enough. If you ever need
to reach me, Salem has my number...you'll understand if I'm currently
restricting the knowledge of it. Or, you can leave me a note here," she
jerks a thumb this time towards the inside of the house behind her. "I
try to check in at least once a day. No phones here, landline or
otherwise. It's a protection mechanism, both to keep them out of the
hands of the cubs, and to make sure no undue attention gets directed out
here."
Natalie says "...Which reminds me," sounding startled. "Did you want to tell
her, Salem-rhya, or wait for Trevor?"
Salem arches a brow for a second, then grimaces. "Go ahead and tell her now. No
reason for it to wait."
Megan blinks with surprise as her tribemate's name comes up, and she looks
perplexedly between the two Glass Walkers, a growing suspicion in her
expression.
"You know more details than I do," Nat tells him wryly before turning back to
Megan. "What I -do- know. There's a group of Russians in town, who may or
may not be Wyrmy. Some of them are human, but maybe not the higher-ups.
Anyway, there's been a potential Veil breach. The Walkers are looking
into it, but until we can get it taken care of, we're all supposed to be
less stupid than usual about shifting in town, or blabbing where ears can
hear. Jeremy was telling me he thinks they know of at least a couple of
us, and the rest of us may be guilty by association." Salem gets another
glance before she adds reluctantly, "They know about Salem, Cutter, and
Rina."
Megan's expression turns dark, but there's at least not surprise in it.
"Cutter, too, eh?" she asks, tone as dark as her expression. "I have
heard about that, but not for the last few weeks. Has there been any
progress investigating on that front?" she asks, her gaze going between
both of them equally. "And what does Trevor have to do with it?"
Salem clears his throat. "Remembering your remark at the last moot, I took
advantage of Trevor's visit today to pass the information along to him.
Since he's a Galliard."
Natalie chimes in, "I've only been in town since Thursday night. I know Jeremy
and Leala were doing some spying, and Jer's probably sitting over a
videotape right now, watching the footage. That's about all I know."
Though Jer would have her thumbs for suggesting he was watching /tape/.
"We have one known Russian's house bugged. Quite thoroughly, in fact." Salem
smiles thinly. "Thanks to Jeremy and Leala."
"Ah," Megan says, relaxing at Salem's explanation, although there is still a
puzzled expression about her. She then thinks, before nodding to them
both. "I'll...trust the Glass Walkers with all that fancy stuff. Just,
keep me posted, and yes, thank you for the update," she adds with a wryly
warm smile.
Salem inclines his head toward the Fianna, then straightens up and gathers
Natalie with a gesture. "Come on. Quick tour of the Bawn before we head
back."
"Professional gossip. Nice meeting you, Megan," Natalie grins before turning
after Salem.
Megan flashes a grin at Natalie's term for it, and gives them both a wave as
they depart, resuming her seat on the porch.
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