"I am a fool, an asshole, a moron, a coward, and a thief with no honor."

[hazlogs]

4/30/04

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 77 degrees
      Fahrenheit (25 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from 
      variable directions at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.09 
      and falling, and the relative humidity is 28 percent. The dewpoint is 42 
      degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (74% full).

Flash(#2873Pce)

        He's tall but gawky, a rail-thin, bit-over-six-foot beanpole with dark
      blond hair that's almost brown and muddy blue eyes that usually are 
      forced to peer out from behind overlong bangs. While he's not out-and-out 
      ugly, his youthful, nerdish features are not particularly handsome, 
      either, and depending on what he's wearing he looks to be anywhere from 
      his late teens to his mid-twenties. His tenor voice, which tends to rise 
      in octave when he's worked up, has an accent that's hard to pin down.

        A brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt hangs open over a slouchy wifebeater.
      His jeans are faded and sport twin holes in the knees. On his feet are 
      white socks and a pair of Birkenstock-style sandals, and on his head sits 
      a Panama hat with an American flag bandana wrapped around the brim.

The Sept Compound(#2075RAM)

Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of
      this clearing, no more than an open space of grasses and beaten earth in 
      the heart of the forest. Some pains have been taken to keep wear and tear 
      on the area to a minimum, so the firepit tends to shift from time to 
      time. The firepit, several sawn logs polished from use, and a stack of 
      firewood discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, 
      are the only signs of constant occupation. However, a student of such 
      things might think that some minimal landscaping or planning has been 
      done, for the meadowlike profusion of grasses and other plants has an 
      unusually high concentration of brilliant flowers, which attract a number 
      of bees and butterflies.

A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.

Flash makes his way noisily through the woods and into the compound, thumbs
      hooked into his beltloops, lips pursed in a cheery Rogers and Hammerstein 
      whistling. If he has any woodscraft, he's sure not showing it.

Yi glances up from the spot she sits, somewhere near the center of the compound
      in plain view. The fresh remains of a fire left smouldering before her 
      provide what warmth she can get. Not recognizing this whistling guy, she 
      clears her throat of the awkward feeling. "Hello," she calls out to him. 
      Sheer politeness, really, with a twinge of curiosity.

Not that, with the thermometer climbing into the eighties, anyone /needs/ much
      warmth, though they're useful for cooking hot dogs. And marshmallows. 
      Flash's whistle rises in pitch, then lowers slowly as he looks her over. 
      "Hey," he greets, casually. "'Sup?"

Hidden under the Cantonese heritage and careful masks of calm is the cunning
      danger of the wolf within, peeking out in Yi's manner of observing her 
      surroundings in a discreetly alert manner. Though petite at about 5'4" 
      with a slim, boyish figure, she hardly gives off the impression of a 
      helpless, fragile woman. Her straight, long black hair streaks with 
      highlights, adding just a bit of color to enhance her dark eyes and give 
      her the classic Asian girl appearance that would blend her into the 
      crowds. Though technically an adult, Yi seems to take up the easygoing 
      street teen look well. Slim under her layers of baggy clothes, a hooded 
      double-layered flannel sweatshirt, navy, grey and white small-boxed plaid 
      on the outside with a thick grey hood covers around an ivory white 
      sweater. Peeking out from underneath the hems of the sweater, a large 
      sized olive-drab green shirt whose sleeves are long enough to pull out 
      and cover half her palms. A faded grey-blue pair of baggy jeans fit over 
      her lower body, the cuffs falling over rugged boots. The only things that 
      shine from the girl are the thin chain which loops her neck, and her dark 
      eyes that gleam brightly. Her hair is straight and black, framing her 
      face neatly and adding emphasis to her feeling of latent intelligence and 
      perceptiveness. One who pays attention to her might notice the thin scars 
      upon neck, forehead and her limbs which make her look as if she had gone 
      through some rough times before. (+detail Yi's Scars) Aside from that 
      though, she moves with a fluid grace and speaks with a mixed, distinct 
      accent of one whose native language clearly is not English but good 
      enough to be considered fairly fluent.

Yeah, one could question why Yi still deigns to wear so many layers on such a
      hot day, let alone have a fire going. Maybe it wasn't hers. "Not much at 
      all," she replies, looking the guy over in a similar manner. "I don't 
      think we have met before." Hers not a particularly scrutinizing gaze.

Flash saunters over, his manner all cock-of-the-walk, almost arrogant in a
      casual, easy-going way. "Nah," he agrees. "I think I woulda remembered 
      you." His accent's American, though from /where/ in the States is 
      difficult to say. He takes a seat on one of the logs near the fire.

Yi picks up one of the sticks she used to poke at the ashes with, twirling it
      in one hand as she takes some interest to this rather unique, easy-going 
      guy. Certainly not like any stiff Garou she's met. "I'm Yi." Her accent, 
      too, isn't from the States. It's not even American, though there's 
      probably an influence on it now since she's been here for awhile. "One of 
      the faces you might see around here, hopefully. A pleasure to meet 
      you..." The convenient pause is left in, for Flash to fill in with his 
      name.

Flash pushes back the brim of his hat a bit and cocks his head, studying her
      with muddy blue eyes. "Hmm... What? Oh, oh, right. Name's Flash. Flash 
      Gordon." He extends a hand.

Yi arches a brow at the name, and sets the stick down to shake Flash's hand.
      Flash Gordon. She's heard that name before. Then, she thinks of it. Ah 
      the wonders of television. "Interesting name. Like... the superhero?" At 
      that thought, she can't help but chuckle a little bit.

"Ah-ahhhhh!" he sings, in a falsetto that would do Freddy Mercury proud. "Yeah,
      I'm here to save every one-of-ya." He smirks. "Sad Sept, fulla rejects 
      and losers. So what's /your/ story?"

Yi sits back, heartened that yes, here's a Garou with a sense of humor. "My
      story? Not very interesting to hear. Sneaked into the city here in a box 
      of fish. I was looking for a Kin." She thinks back, and in brief 
      realization adds, "Human kinfolk. Not fish."

If only she knew. "Fish kinfolk would be weird." He cocks his head. "So...
      where'd you sneak /from/?"

Yi nods in agreement. Fish kinfolk would be Too weird, even for a ragabash.
      "Hong Kong," she replies, "from the Sept of Rat's Tail." With a name like 
      that, perhaps the tribe she's part of is rather obvious. "How about you? 
      Did you arrive here just recently too?"

Flash slides down to sit on the ground with his back to the log and his arms
      stretched out along it. He tugs the brim of the hat lower on his head, 
      making it shadow his eyes. "Rat's Tail... Bone Gnawer?"

Yi nods. "Yes," she answers, blinking at the hat tugging. "A ragabash of the
      tribe."

"Damn," says Flash. "I couldn't have told otherwise. You don't smell like shit."

Yi smirks. "Not now, you can't, but if you were there when I first got off the
      boat, you would have thought I did." She leans back a little too, setting 
      the firepoker down. "So, what about you? You're not a Gnawer, right?" 
      Presumably, if she were to go by his definition of a Gnawer... he doesn't 
      smell either. Or, whatever cologne he has must be damn good.

Well, it's been a hot day, so there's some sweat. But he clearly showered this
      morning and used soap and shampoo and all those other fake-smelling 
      things. "Nope."

"Hmm," Yi considers, watching the hat with thought. "Then, what are you?" Her
      mind thinks up various combinations to associate.

Flash takes off one sandal, pulls off his sock, and casually chucks it into the
      fire. "Guess."

Yi watches the sock simply smoulder. Perhaps even dry. "Glass Walker," is her
      first thought out.

"Nope." The second sock joins the first, and he sits up a bit to poke the
      flames with a stick and get things going. They're thin socks, and with a 
      bit of encouragement do start to burn.

Yi furrows her brow at the burning socks at first, but she seems more
      distracted with the tribe guessing game. "Strider," she guesses again, 
      though this time with a bit of doubt.

"Wrong again," says Flash, smiling smugly.

Yi hms again, sucking a tooth momentarily as she watches the fire go. "How
      about a hint, Mr. Gordon?"

Flash snorts. "I thought you Chinks were smarter than that," he says, with no
      hint of joking in his voice at all. "C'mon, slantyeyes, put it together."

Shrugging, Yi tosses out the one she thinks is impossible. "Stargazer then. You
      are stubborn enough to be one." She's not too fond of the insult, but it 
      seems way too commonplace for her to be offended.

Flash wrinkles his nose. "Bah," he says. "Doesn't count. You didn't actually
      /believe/ that guess."

Yi sits up at that response. "Who says I didn't believe it?" She didn't get a
      flat 'no' answer there, at least. "You're a Stargazer?" Oh, the irony -- 
      or rather, the humanity.

"You were /certain/ I'd say no. Admit it." Flash smirks, rather arrogantly in
      fact, and looks at her from under the brim of his Panama hat. "Yeah, I'm 
      a Stargazer."

Yi looks dubiously at Flash at first. She takes in the shirt, the hat, the
      insults, the smirk. Then, she just starts laughing. For a good minute or 
      so, the fits come and go before she manages to work her composure back 
      in, biting her lip to stifle an amused giggle. After a couple of deeper 
      breaths, she's picked up the pieces. "I'm sorry... I just thought, well, 
      you reminded me a lot of a teacher of mine. A Stargazer."

Flash wrinkles his nose, then shrugs, not joining her laughter. He pokes the
      burning socks with his makeshift poker. "Oh? Over there or over here?"

Yi clears her throat then. "Over there. Probably no one you know," she
      comments. "And I suppose you are also a ragabash, considering your 
      manners. Unless, you are an ahroun in disguise."

"Depends on whether he was born there or emigrated with the rest." Flash
      shrugs. "And, yeah, Ragabash."

Yi shakes her head. "He was born there, raised there, and very likely will
      still be there long after I'm gone from here. The old goat." Eyes turning 
      back to the other raggie, she tilts her head slightly. "So you're here to 
      save the Sept. Rejects and losers... and one Gnawer who doesn't smell 
      like shit. I don't suppose the others you've met have taken you very 
      seriously."

Flash slips his bare feet back into the faux-Birks and pokes the fire some
      more. "No, but that's a'right. I'm the scum of the earth, y'see."

"A title you made for yourself? Because I don't think that of you," Yi says,
      rubbing her nose a bit at the smell of burning sock. "No-moons do get the 
      worst names."

Flash sits up and looks at her, then pushes back the brim of his hat, settling
      it further back on his head. "See, that's the /problem/ with this Sept. A 
      man tells you he's the scum of the earth, and you don't believe him. 
      Would it help if I told you I was a mule?"

Yi shrugs again. "You're telling this to a Bone Gnawer," she reminds him. "Not
      to mention, this Sept has seen some pretty brave and wise 'mules'. Would 
      you rather have things and names thrown at you and be driven off?"

Yi pages to the room: That is a strange, but interesting mentality of a metis.
      'Hi nice to meet you, I'm the scum of the earth!'

"Hmph. That would be /forgivable/." He pushes to his feet and starts kicking
      dirt over the fire. "I could say this and that and the fucking other, but 
      for now, lemme make one thing /ultimately/ clear, Yi of the Hong Kong 
      Fooey branch of Gaia's Calcium-Chewers..." He turns toward her, hooking 
      his thumbs into his beltloops. "I am the eater of shit, the lowest of the 
      low, the scum of the earth, Gaia's worst mistake, the bastard and 
      embarrassment of my tribe. I am a fool, an asshole, a moron, a coward, 
      and a thief with no honor." He smirks, more sardonic than humorful. "But 
      you won't believe me. No one ever does." Shrugging, he turns his back on 
      her and starts to walk off.

Yi stares calmly at the Gazer's back before chuckling softly. Picking up
      pebble, she tosses it in his direction, just to retain his attention a 
      little bit longer. "Oh, I'll believe you. And if you would like, I'll try 
      my best to make life miserable." Then, she returns to tending said fire.

Flash glances back over his shoulder. "Don't do it for /me/, yellow dog," he
      retorts, in perfect Cantonese. Then he flips her off and vanishes into 
      the forest.