"Sure you're not a Wendigo?"

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:42 Pacific Time on Wed Feb 18 2004.
Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (12% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 45 degrees
      Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      north at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.10 and rising, and 
      the relative humidity is 89 percent. The dewpoint is 42 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

[The Farmhouse]

Natalie climbs out of her truck, arms folding against the chill and arms
      tucking under her elbows. "Gonna have this place on auto-pilot," she 
      mumbles to herself, turning to look for 'the boys'.
After parking the car behind Natalie, Jermey climbs out of his Neon RT, black
      and silver pin striped and presses the button on his keychain, activating 
      the alarm with a 'beep'boop'. Pulling his trench coat tighter around his 
      person, he makes his way to the porch, offering a smile to the other two 
      Garou.
Salem gets out the other side of Jeremy's car, adjusts the collar of his coat a
      bit, and then leads the way up onto the porch; the wooden steps creak 
      under his weight.
"This is practically summer!" Nat teases as she hurries after Jeremy, falling
      back to let Salem ascend the steps first. Sure, her coat's /on/, but it's 
      not zipped. It's all in the details.
The trench coat of the Gothic flutters about his person a bit in a rustle of
      the light breeze in the air, following Salem up second on the porch. His 
      eyes narrow a bit into dark slits, glancing around some, tapping away at 
      his PDA with a stylus, furrowing his brows.
Salem snorts at Natalie's comment, amused, and heads for the front door of the
      farmhouse. "Sure you're not a Wendigo?" he murmurs to the Cliath.
"Minnesotan," the Galliard grins. "Practically the same thing. You know, Jer,
      if Megan sees that she's probably gonna feed it to you."
Coming around the side of the house, Katrine pauses and looks over Jeremy's car
      for a moment, before turning her gaze upon the trio on the porch. "Hello, 
      Salem, Jeremy," the girl greets softly, inclining her head first to them, 
      then to the third Garou.

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 Kat's chosen attire. A black belt girdles her waist. 
      Simple and utilitarian, they work for just about everything she ever 
      needs to do.

"I got work to do. Besides. They got a working fridge. Is that too Weav--.. Hey
      Kat." Jeremy says as he stops, nearly running into Salem after glancing 
      up sharply from his PDA. He sidesteps around and swivels some to face the 
      Galliard.
Salem pauses at the door and glances over at the voice. One eyebrow rises at
      sight of Katrine, and then he gives the girl a slight smile. "Good 
      evening. Just the person we wanted to see. Care to join us inside?"
Natalie, playing caboose, has to stop before likewise nearly plowing into
      Jeremy. Just call them Larry, Curly, and Moe, though she at least steps 
      over to the side to make room on the porch. "Girl Kat, not boy Cat. Heya."
Her lips quirk in a brief smile at the two near-collisions, but Katrine merely
      nods in assent. "Sure," she replies, unclasping her hands and walking 
      toward the base of the porch steps.
Salem looks back at Jeremy and Natalie, smirks, then heads inside.
Stepping into the living room after Salem, Jeremy rolls out of his trench coat
      and tosses it onto the couch, then flops down ontop of it. He continues 
      to tap away at his PDA, quietly humming under his breath.
Salem hangs up his coat and wanders into the living room. Settling into an
      armchair and stretching his legs out, the Elder looks over at Katrine, 
      studying her. "Have you met Natalie yet, by the way?"
"Nope," Natalie tosses out from where she's hanging up her coat. "I've met
      Joshua - and may I say that you're a paragon of patience - but I haven't 
      had a chance to meet either of the Cats. Natalie Baker," she adds, 
      sticking her hand out for the other Galliard. "Galliard, Cliath. 
      Jeremy..." She casts a look toward the goth and amends to, "Has told me a 
      bit about you."
Katrine walks straight into the living room, as she's not wearing a coat to
      hang up. She shakes her head to Salem. "No, I haven't," she replies, 
      though Natalie already spoke. The girl glances down and hmphs softly at 
      the last comment, then tosses a shoulder in a slight shrug.
Salem looks curious at Natalie's last remark as well, and glances over at the
      older Galliard briefly before turning back to the cub. "How have you been 
      finding it out here?" he asks, steepling his fingers.
Natalie frowns faintly as the offered hand's utterly ignored, then follows the
      girl into the living room. She takes one of the other empty armchairs, 
      her arms folding across her chest, and eyes Katrine sourly.
Katrine cants her head for a moment, considering Salem's question, then shrugs
      again. "It's been all right," she answers. The girl looks towards Natalie 
      as the woman enters the room, frowning slightly in confusion at the 
      expression on her face, then glances around the rest of the living room.
Salem purses his lips slightly, his gaze still on the girl. "Just 'all right',
      hm?" He shrugs. "Yes, well, I suppose it is a bit rustic. Been out to the 
      caern yet? Met anyone interesting?"
Natalie doesn't contribute to the interrogation. She's too busy keeping an eye
      on her shoes, on Jeremy, on Katrine. None of them will leave without her 
      knowledge.
Click. Click. Click. Jeremy continues to tap away at the screen silently
      without a word. He may as well be non existant.
Katrine shakes her head once more. "No, I haven't been out there yet. And...
      well, I've met Taslyn and Josh," the girl answers. Her attention is 
      focused on Salem, but she gives Natalie a glance out of the corner of her 
      eyes every once in a while.
"Ah, Josh." Salem rubs his hand across his mouth. "And how much do you think
      you've learned out here, Katrine?"
Natalie snorts faintly and smirks at the other Walker cub's name. Her flash of
      ill-temper seems to be oozing away as she relaxes.
Katrine is silent for a brief while, crossing her arms in front of her. "I've
      studied some on the Tribe; Jeremy's been out here with me a lot," the 
      girl finally answers. "I don't know how /much/ I've learned, though, in 
      absolute terms. Relatively? It generally seems like a lot."
Salem grunts. "Well, you don't need to know _everything. Your tribe, your
      auspice, the Litany, our purpose. The other tribes, breeds, and auspices. 
      How to fight, shapeshift, step into the Umbra. And get used to listening 
      what's going on around you and spreading the news to others. News and 
      stories -- that's your main role as a Galliard."
Jeremy tilts his head up a bit. "I haven't touched on the Umbra and fighting.
      But I have at least got her up to speed on shape shifting without a 
      problem, and the history of our tribe, at least from my point of view. "
"As a Galliard, you're not expected to know /everything/ until you're Fostern,"
      Nat pipes up. She sends a smirk Salem's way, then tilts her head at 
      Jeremy. "You've been teaching her?" She sounds equal parts bemused and 
      impressed. "That's a lot."
Salem smiles thinly. "Jeremy's been clued into the family business for quite
      some time."
Katrine moves back a step as Jeremy speaks, clasping her hands behind her back
      once more. The girl drops her head slightly, glance flicking between the 
      trio, but not interrupting their conversation.
Salem notices Katrine's withdrawal from the discussion and frowns. "Quiet sort,
      aren't you?" The observation is made without any note of condemnation.
"Fourteen years out of the twenty-one I have lived." Jeremy says, going back to
      his PDA, tapping away once again. "Served two Septs now and three Don's. 
      Katrine makes the eleventh cub I have trained at least." He says softly.
The door rattles, swinging shut after it admits one Ahroun Glass Walker Cub. He
      looks a lot better than he did even an hour ago, the majority of the 
      damage gone, leaving just a few nasty cuts and such as a sign of the last 
      night's battle. He takes a deep breath before slowly stepping over to the 
      assembled trio of Elder, elder and Kin. He waits quietly until someone, 
      anyone, acknowledges his presence.
Natalie accuses Jer, "Show off." There's no ire in the accusation whatsoever.
      "There's nothing wrong with being quiet," now she's defending Katrine. 
      "Just as long as you do know when to open your yap. Most of us have to 
      learn when to /close/ it." Joshua? Nope, hasn't noticed him yet.
Salem shrugs a bit. "I agree," he says to Natalie, looking her way. Past her,
      he notices Joshua and raises an eyebrow at the Ahroun cub.
One corner of Katrine's mouth quirks up in wry acknowledgement of Salem's
      remark. She glances to the other two in turn, as they speak, but remains 
      silent. In fact, all she does is nod towards Joshua as the other Cub 
      walks past.
Glancing upwards from his PDA once more, Jeremy shifts his eyes to Josh, then
      back to his screen. He lifts up a shoulder slightly, before saying. "What 
      is tonight's agenda?"
Joshua doesn't make eye contact with Salem; he is very careful not to. But he
      does look at the Elder for once, a major change from his usual of 'lets 
      stare at boots'. "I do not want to interrupt you, but a moment of your 
      time, Salem-Rhya? I was wondering if I could talk to you on the porch for 
      a moment..." He keeps a very even, 'professional' tone to his voice, 
      again, not his usual 'mumble and mutter'.
Salem studies Josh for a moment, then stands. "Why don't you and Nat keep
      chatting here with Katrine," he says smoothly, "while Joshua and I go 
      upstairs to chat." He heads for the stairs, not looking back and trusting 
      the cub to follow.
Salem glances into the infirmary and, finding it empty, gestures the cub inside
      so they can speak in private. His expression is quite neutral.

Infirmary
Weak winter sunlight filters through to light the room. Thin white curtains
      keep the glare out while allowing enough light in to dispel shadows. A 
      small ceramic heater sits on the floor near the bed, available for use 
      when needed. A wide bed stands in the center of the south wall, white 
      linens carefully tucked in around its mattress. A low table stands beside 
      the bed, a small basin and pitcher perched atop it. Two large chairs sit 
      facing the bed, and a small wooden chair sits against the south wall 
      opposite the table. A tall cabinet occupies the northeast corner of the 
      room, its glass door revealing a well-stocked medicine cabinet, various 
      medical implements and supplies carefully arranged within.
The only exit from the room is a single door on the eastern wall.

Joshua follows Salem about a half minute later, shutting the door behind him. A
      bag is held carefully in one hand: the cause for the little delay as he 
      grabbed it off the porch. He slows, keeping his face on the Elder for 
      once, still not making eye contact as he approaches. He stops a 
      comfortable distance away, with both hands holding out the bottle shaped 
      bag. It's velvet and tied shut with a drawstring, and has faint lettering 
      written on it in dutch. "For you, Scar-Rhya." Still professional, still 
      composed.
Salem arches an eyebrow in bemusement as he accepts the bottle; he keeps that
      expression as he hefts it experimentally, then pulls open the drawstring 
      to examine the contents.
It's a bottle of Vodka, Grey Goose, and one of their more expensive and hard to
      aquire blends as well. Not something you pick up at the corner booze 
      store. The Ahroun clears his throat, grapsing his hands behind his back. 
"Since we last met, I've had a lot of time to think about it... and I would
      like to apologize for my former actions, Scar-Rhya. While I can plead 
      ignorance and attempt to shift the blame all I want, I was the one who 
      compromised the Network, I was the one who tried to break out twice. I 
      take full responsibility for them. I am ready to learn from you in a 
      proper way so that I may start fulfilling my obligations to my Tribe." He 
      pauses, taking a short breath. "The bottle is for you, as a token of my 
      regret for having to put you through all the shit I did, and for having 
      to do damage control after me." He glances to direction the barn is in, 
      adding. "I can preform an approximation of the Rite of Contrition if you 
      wish, Mr. Salem. I attempted to learn it so I could do it for you, but I 
      am not very good..."
Salem looks from the bottle to the cub as he starts to speak, and the hard,
      scarred face softens minutely. As Josh trails toward a close, he places 
      the bottle back in the velvet bag and shakes his head. "It's not 
      necessary. Your intention and sincerity are enough." He looks down at the 
      boy for a moment, then smiles faintly. "Well-spoken." The praise may seem 
      faint, but it's obviously sincere.
Joshua doesn't budge an inch, but he does looks faintly relieved that he
      doesn't have to go and attempt the rite. "Thank you sir."
Salem shakes his head a bit, lips still curved in that faint, aloof smile.
      "You've been a pain in the ass, Joshua, but if I'd really thought you 
      were unredeemable, I _would_ have culled you. As for the Rite that would 
      have taken your shifting ability, I mentioned it as an _option_... an 
      option to a cub who seemed to be very unhappy with his lot. You 
      understand?"
Joshua nods curtly. "Yes Rhya, although I would be lying if I said I didn't
      still regret you mentioning that option. But I understand the position 
      you where in, and why you did it, and do not hold it against you 
      personally anymore."
Salem nods, then hefts the covered bottle. "When you've passed your Rite, we'll
      share a drink of this. And you _will_ pass." He taps the cub on the chest 
      with the bottle, lightly. "If you want to, you will pass." It seems he's 
      not going to ask what prompted this change of heart... or where Josh 
      managed to organize a bottle of expensive vodka.
Joshua can just nod, remaining in his stance as Salem taps him with the bottle.
      "Yes sir. Everyone keeps saying that; I will start listening to them when 
      they say this." Even a note of confidence? -Someone- talked to him all 
      right... "Thank you for your time, Salem-Rhya."
Salem gives another of those faint smiles, then gestures toward the door. "Go
      on downstairs and join the party. I'll be down in a bit."
Joshua nods, heading down the stairs, leaving the door open behind him.
Joshua leaves the quiet of the infirmary for the hallway, closing the door with
      a soft click.