It is currently 20:14 Pacific Time on Wed Mar 3 2004.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 43 degrees
Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
east at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.98 and steady, and
the relative humidity is 97 percent. The dewpoint is 42 degrees
Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (83% full).
Harbor Park -- The Meadow(#194RJ)
One of the last bastions of green left in the city, mottled and withered grass
and weeds covers the earth like a badly stained carpet, with the
construction work turning what is left into just bare dirt. The
vegetation seems marginally healthier the further it is from the river
and much healthier towards the central area of the park around the
fountain. Construction work is ongoing here: a raised earthen berm about
five feet tall is being built all around the park perimeter, with two
breaks each at the Bridge Street entrance and the First Street end.
Wooden posts are being erected at regular intervals all along the earthen
wall, while tasteful iron gates and fences are being added at the
entrances. Overpowering the scent of living vegetation are the exhaust
fumes from a busy street to the west and an unpleasant stench from the
Columbia River to the east. From the street view or river view, the park
is now isolated, as if it existed apart from the city. People in tall
buildings have an excellent view of any goings-ons for now, though. In
the center of the park, a small glade of six tall trees and a flower bed
surrounds the fountain.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the
park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St.
Claire.
The Rush Hour Joggers where gone with the sun, leaving the Park mostly empty at
the hour. Who could blame them? The park was dark, cold, and was mostly
populated by derelicts at the hour. Joshua makes his way on through,
still wearing the surplus BDU jacket that Salem gave him, and look even more the
military person for it. He seems alert, watching the faces as he passes
them, as if looking for an individual.
Salem hoves into view, in the process of tucking something inside his coat. He
pauses to scan the park, and for a moment something flashes across his
eyes, a flicker of light that seems oddly familiar somehow. The full
moon's out and the overcast night sky catches the streetlights enough to
bathe the park in a definite night-glow... and maybe that's why he seems
able to pick out Joshua almost immediately. He heads toward the young
Ahroun, and his face is set into a neutral mask.
Joshua is not far behind catching sight of Salem. He comes to a stop inside the
park, sliding his hands into his pockets as he waits for the ex-Elder to
make his way over. Once Salem is within a respectful distance, the Walker
bobs his head slightly. "Uncle Salem." If he is feeling tense from the
moon, which he is, he's doing a damn good job at not letting it crack
through an equally inexpressive visage.
Salem's mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. "'Uncle _Jack_' sounds a little less
awkward." He cocks his head, seeming to look the teenager over. "Well.
I'd invite you for a beer, but in mundane terms you're still underage.
Pity. Still, I wanted to talk to you." He doesn't sound angry.
"Rina said to stay away from calling you Jack. But if that's what you
wanted..." The Ahroun responds easily, arching a brow. He reseats his
hands down into his pockets, eyes flicking from person to person in the
Park. "I need to learn that string trick sometime... it would be useful
as all get out for hunting." He mutters, not looking back to Salem.
"Questing Stone?" Salem grunts, looking over toward the river. "It isn't hard
to learn. Might want to try Dedication first. The trick with the
clothes." He purses his lips, frowning minutely, then looks back at Josh.
"So. Talk to me. Why did Natalie throw you out of the Dominion?"
"Not Homid enough for for her tastes." Josh responds sourly, turning to face
the river, but not looking back. "Didn't like how I slept, my tastes in
food, or any of that." He watches the river intently for a moment,
remaining silent before he adds. "So, she kicked me out."
Salem makes a low 'mm' noise and is silent for a long moment. "You've proved
yourself to be worthy to Gaia, Joshua," the halfmoon says at last.
"You've proven yourself a Garou." A dark eye fixes on the young warrior,
his expression stern even if his words and voice are not. "I think you've
come a long way in a short time, and I'm proud of you." There's an
unspoken 'but' in there somewhere.
"... and you doubt my loyalties to the tribe." Josh finishes the statement, as
if it was solicited. Not a question, a statement. "Y'all think I'm a
anti-city anti-human technophobe ludite or some variant there-of." He
keeps his eyes on the river, missing the stern expression entirely.
Salem's broad shoulders lift and fall. "I had wondered. I know that Natalie
does. I suppose that's why she reacted to poorly... when Cat lounges
about in lupus a good deal as well." His voice turns wry. "All that mess
with 'Guides' didn't help things, I suppose. But let me put the question
to you, Joshua." He faces the younger man squarely, arms folding across
his chest. "Do you love the city?"
Joshua turns looking to, but not at, Salem. "I came from Howe, a town of about
four, five hundred in the summer. More left in the winter, we'd be down
to about three hundred, two hundred. Saint Claire is a hell of a lot
bigger than that. It is loud, and the people in it confuse the heck out
of me." He takes his hands out of his pockets, clasping them behind his
back.
Salem nods. "Where I grew up, you couldn't see any other houses. Not from the
front door. Not from the end of the driveway. Rode the bus for, mm, about
an hour or so to get to school until I was twelve." He reaches into an
inside pocket of his coat and takes out a box of Camels, tapping one out
with the automatic ease of one who's smoked more cigarettes than he can
count. "Then, the summer after I'd turned thirteen, my father dragged us
all across the ocean to some tiny, and I do mean _tiny_, little town in
the middle of the mountains. So I understand where you're coming from."
He lights the cigarette, puts the rest of the pack away, and inhales
deeply. "But that isn't what I asked you. Joshua... do you love the city?"
Joshua's shoulders lift for a moment, followed by a sigh. "How can you love
something you don't understand?" He offers, shifting his jaw in place
uncomfortably. "But I'm still here. I could have stayed on the Bawn... I
got a nice little place there, I got good food, I have a warm rock in the
Caern... and I'm still staying here."
Joshua looks like someone who just got out of some sort of boot camp, despite
his mid-late teens age. He stands about 5' 8", his frame covered by a
layer of muscle visible under his skin from obsessive training. He lacks
almost any fat, lean from months of slim eating. His skin seems stretched
over his frame, pale and of clear northern European descent. His face is
cold and lined, no real defining features present: dull brown eyes, thin
lips, a smaller nose. His head is covered in short red stubble, near crew
cut lending to the "In the Army now" look. The Ahroun has a near constant
disheveled, almost feral quality about him in spite of how clean he keeps
himself.
Bruises and cuts are scattered across his frame; one could deduce that he gets
in more than his fair share of scrapes. Currently, Joshua is wearing a
black t-shirt tucked into a clean pair of blue jeans. Looped through the
jeans is a simple brown belt, off of which hangs currently nothing. His
feet are clad in a pair of shin high muddy hiking boots, the pair broken
in from overuse. Not particularly attractive, he stands out only in the
blandest sort of way.
Salem smiles faintly at the question, a wry touch of amusement quirking his
lips, as if the idea of loving something (or maybe someone) without
understanding them is a concept he's very familiar with. He receives the
rest of the reply with a nod. "We're all different, we city wolves," he
says. "Mobsters, criminals, technogeeks, urban primitives, corporate
businessmen... more shades of philosophy than you can imagine. But what
makes us different from the Gnawers, or even from people like Signe or
Cutter who stay in the city by choice, is that we're here because we love
it. Even if we don't love humanity, and not all of us do, we love its
works. We have ever since the first city was built. We didn't understand
it, none of our people did, but _we_, our ancestors both spiritual and by
blood, we loved it anyway." It's perhaps the most passionate tone the
Ahroun has ever heard the stolid Philodox use, and it's clear that every
word is sincere.
Joshua's look wanders on off to the river again as Salem talks, a nod every now
and then showing that he still listens to the ex-Elder. Otherwise, the
Ahroun intently watches the water, and the distant forest beyond that.
"But... what about the forest?" he near mumbles, before swallowing once.
"It seems that my liking the forest over the city doesn't sit well with
any of ya. Why can't I like the one more than the other... I mean, I've
heard how some of ya talk about it, and the 'naked savages', and the rest
of the ludites. Can't I live... or at least exist in both?"
Salem absently taps ash from the end of his Camel. "Other tribes do that,
Joshua," he says quietly. "But a Glass Walker does not prefer the forest
over the city any more than a Red Talon prefers the city over the
forest." He looks down at Josh, his face somber, and still no trace of
anger. "If you don't love the city, you can't be one of us. If you prefer
the forest, you'd be better off considering another tribe."
Joshua would fidget with something if he had something to it with. Instead he
squeezes his hands behind his back, shoulders tensing more than a little
under the full moon. "That... is a hell of a lot to think about." He
finally responds sullenly. "Shitload of the metric variety."
Salem nods, taking a drag off the cigarette. "Indeed," he says. "Indeed it is."
Joshua stands there silently, letting the noiseless void grow between them for
a while. "You saying that I got to decide where my loyalties lay now?" He
finally asks, much quieter than before.
Salem answers only with another nod, smoke curling around him like a lazy cat.
"Fuck." The curse sort of just hangs there in the air much like Salem's smoke,
the Ahroun looking to the moon. "Sure know how to lay it on a guy."
"You're an adult now, Joshua," Salem says dryly. He inhales another lungful,
then tips his head back and, casually, blows a couple of smoke rings.
Salem adds, glancing at him, "You don't have to decide right this _minute_.
Just... soon. Within a few days."
Joshua nods sharply, still staring off over into the river. "A few days. I'll
get back to ya."
"Excellent," says the Philodox, and he gives the younger Garou a faint smile.
"Not from my bloody point of view it isn't." He near growls back. "It's a
fucker of a choice."
Salem utters a low, dry 'heh' noise. "Life's full of choices like that. Hard
decisions."
"Your asking me if I want to give up the hunt in the forest forever, If I'll
willingly give up the forest for something I don't understand, and if I'd
willingly go urrah." Josh points out, not looking over -still-. "And here
I thought I'd just me taking a nice night to hunt the city..."
Salem and Joshua are standing within conversational distance, more or less
facing the river. They seem to be in some deep discussion, and the taller
of the pair is smoking a cigarette. "If you don't love her, you shouldn't
marry her. That's what _I'm_ saying."
Joshua shrugs once. "Let me think about it." He repeats, taking his hands to
straiten out the BDUs, turning slightly to leave. And his brow furrows.
In German, he mutters: (What the hell?) He glances at Salem quickly.
"Sonova bitch. Uncle."
"Mm?" Salem follows Joshua's look, and his expression hardens. "Mm. Let's go
say hello." Setting the cigarette between his lips, he starts toward the
Shadow Lord, trusting the Cliath to follow. Almost cheerily, the Philodox
calls out, "Mr. Radolenko! What a pleasure to see you!"
Konstantin's eyes narrow suspiciously. He lifts his chin toward the halfmoon,
the cub barely gets a glance.
Joshua follows, a grim grin spreading across his face. From the moon or from
the conversation he just had is anyone's guess. His hands are out of his
pockets, carried casually at his sides. Otherwise, he lets the Ex-Elder
do the talking... while staying off to the side far enough that Salem
wouldn't be in the way, should push come to shove.
The Shadow Lord Ragabash is, in this manner, somewhat flanked. "I've been
meaning to have a chat with you for some time," Salem says as he gets
close, the cigarette bobbing with each word. "But you're quite elusive.
Have you met Josh here, by the way? He completed his finals recently.
Straight A's, flying colors."
Konstantin smirks faintly. "Congratulations," the Russian offers evenly. He
pulls out his own frayed box of smokes and puts on between his lips. "Got
a light?" he asks, studying the philodox intently.
"Danka." Josh responds curtly, patting his pockets to indicate he has no
lighter on him. He otherwise doesn't take his eyes off the Shadow Lord,
of whom he had been hunting the entire day.
Salem pulls a Bic lighter from his coat pocket and flicks it on for the
Russian. His own gaze is just as intent. "Been feeling better these days?
Not coughing up anything black and bilous recently, have you?"
Konstantin lights his cigarette, turning his head to exhale the first plume of
smoke. "I'm in perfect health," he answers. His English is unaccented,
there is, though, the hint of an upper midwestern accent. "Thanks for
asking." The no moon's attention stalks back to Salem, as he cups the lit
smoke in one hand.
Joshua just hangs off slightly to the side, looking very much like someone you
don't want baby sitting your children. Other than keeping up appearances,
he remains quiet.
"Good, good." Salem pockets the lighter, then takes the cigarette from his
mouth. "We need to talk about your work." He isn't smiling anymore, and
the mismatched eyes are hard and cold.
Konstantin takes a long slow drag off his smoke. "Yeah?" His exhale leaves his
lungs just as slowly.
Joshua's nose wrinkles at all the tobacco in the air, but he otherwise sticks
to his role.
Salem nods. "I seem to recall giving you some... starting cash after you'd
brought to me the idea of getting in with the in-crowd." His eyes narrow.
"It was my understanding that in return you'd produce something useful.
Like information."
Konstantin eyes the older, taller Garou steadily; his eyes don't flinch. A
slight twitch on his upper lip is about the only reaction Salem achieves.
He seems to be sending the message of, "That all you got?"
Joshua's left hand reaches up, unbuttoning the BDU and letting it hang slightly
open as he watches the conversation between the two.
Salem, smoldering cigarette in hand, takes a step closer to the Shadow Lord.
"Now, Mr. Radolenko," he says, the evenness of his voice belying the
rising coil of potential violence tightening under his skin, "I find
myself wondering when I will get a return on my investment. Or _if_ I
will. I've been extremely patient. I've given you the benefit of the
doubt. And in return... nothing." His eyes narrow.
The silence grows as the philodox ends his sentence. Heavy and awkward, it
hangs in the air for several long counts. Konstantin finally, slowly,
deliberately blinks. He takes a puff off his smoke. "You're right," he
says, smoothly. "May I ask you a question, though?"
Salem cocks his head, favoring his good eye. "Naturally." His voice is flat.
Konstantin's eyes dart toward Joshua for a moment, but they return to Salem
quickly. "Someone's taken it into their head to spread nasty rumors about
you amongs some of my, uh, colleagues." The Shadow Lord pauses, his mouth
pursing a touch, showing some distaste at the thought. "Something about
demons. Any truth in that, or is it just raving madness?"
Salem doesn't look at all surprised at hearing about this rumor. "You mean that
I gave up my left eye for great power and et cetera?" He snorts, flicking
ash from his cigarette. "No truth to it at all. Do you know how that
little rumor got started?"
Konstantin lifts a shoulder, shaking his head. "No idea," he murmurs.
Salem takes in another long, slow breath of smoke, staring at Konstantin all
the while, as if he could wrest the information in the no-moon's head by
sheer force of will. "How did you get tainted?"
"Too much supersizing," the ragabash replies with a glib smirk. "Well, enough
chit-chat. I need to do a better job of passing along information --
point taken. Anything in particular you want to know about?"
Joshua scowls, but Salem's temper flares up dangerously at the tone of
Konstantin's reply, and the halfmoon's jaw muscles clench as he stamps
down on his rage. Taking another step toward the Sjadow Lord, looming, he
snarls, "I want to know how you got tainted, you little _fuck_, and I
want _details_. Who you've talked to, what you've done... _everything_
you've done. I want a _full fucking report_ from you, and then I want you
to find Natalie and repeat it to _her_."
Konstantin edges back. "Who's Natalie?"
Salem smiles like a Kzin, showing teeth. "Family of mine. I'm sure you'll have
no trouble getting in touch with her if you try."
"Yeah, well, as /tempting/ as your request is, I'm not sure now is the right
time to have a lot of jaw jaw about something that's only going to make
me into your lunch, savvy?"
Salem's nostrils flare as he takes in a breath, but he nods. "Before the end of
the week, Konstantin," he says. "If neither I nor Natalie have gotten a
full accounting of your activities with the Russians, I'll make sure
you're hunted down and that the information is _dragged_ from you.
Understood?"
"Perfectly," the no moon replies with an almost infuriating unctuous
ingratiousness.
Salem wrinkles his nose. "Until the end of the week. Come on, Joshua." He and
the young Ahroun move off, the latter pausing to look over his shoulder
to give Konstantin a cold, hard stare.
Konstantin finishes his cigarette in the face of Salem's Look. If he's worried,
he's awfully good at suppressing it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hazlogs
