Weird Kid

[hazlogs]

It is currently 12:15 Pacific Time on Wed Mar 25 1998.
Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (16% full).
Currently on this gusty and cool spring midday in the general St. Claire area, 
  it is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8.3 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from 
  the west-southwest at 11.8 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with no 
  chance of precipitation.

Harbor Park Meadow(#194RJ)
A gentle dusting of newly planted grass covers the ground. In some areas, the 
  grass is thicker, lush and a deep summer green. The stench of the meadow is 
  gone with the bags and the tools, but the faintly unpleasant smell still 
  wafts up from the river banks. Through the rusted link fence the street is 
  visible, the hedges and vines trimmed back to open the Park to the community 
  outside.
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. The park extends to 
  the north.
Contents:
Xandra
Obvious exits:
Bridge Street  North  First Street  River  

Salem walks slowly into the meadow, moving rather more stiffly than usual, a 
  grimace on his face. He glances at the girl chasing butterflies and scowls.

Xandra notices the tall dark man almost as soon as he walks into the meadow. 
  She slows, then stops, eyes darting towards him nervously.

Salem's lip curls in scorn at the child's reaction, and with a dismissive 
  gesture he turns away, fishing for a cigarette from his coat and lighting up.

[Xandra]
This is a slight adolescent girl, thirteen or fourteen. She has long dark 
  hair, usually braided, and rich brown eyes. Her skin is a tanned olive and 
  her hands are calloused from work. Her body, slowly aquiring the curves of 
  an adult, is surprisingly well-muscled and moves with a trained grace. 
  Occasionally her movements across a room break into spontaneous dance, 
  completely without conscious thought. Her gaze is steady and thoughtful. 
  Usually, she's clad in either jeans and a t-shirt, or a leotard, tights, and 
  a small skirt.

Xandra narrows her eyes and peers at Salem. Then she calls, "Isn't smoking bad 
  for you?"

Salem sucks in a deep lungful of nicotine-laced smoke and turns back, eyeing 
  Xandra with arrogance undertoned with controlled violence. "Yes."

Xandra takes a deep breath and calls again, "Then why do you do it?"

"None of your damned business," Salem retorts.

Xandra shrugs and sticks her hands in her jeans pocket, walking a few steps. 
  After a moment, she pulls her hands out of her body and walks a few more 
  steps on her hands, her body arching gracefully. Then she falls to her feet 
  and darts a little north, looking over her shoulder at Salem again.

Salem watches the young teenager with slightly narrowed dark eyes, cigarette 
  smoldering between two fingers, the orange ember at its end brightening as 
  he inhales every few moments.

Xandra raises her eyebrows at Salem inquisitively.

Salem stares back, offering no reasons, no explanations for his watching.

Xandra makes a small gesture with one hand. Then she calls impudently, "Were 
  you here for the gang war?"

Salem pauses with the cigarette halfway to his lips. "Gang war?"

Xandra jerks her head behind her, to the north. "Big gang war up there. Lots 
  of people dead." She sticks her hands in her pockets again and glances up at 
  the cloudy sky. "Hadn't you noticed?"

"I don't read the papers," Salem replies curtly, taking in a lungful of smoke.

Xandra shrugs. "They had chalk lines, I think. I see you here now and then. 
  Spooky people. The gangs, they dare each other to come here, when they 
  argue. Like sleeping in a haunted house."

Salem snorts. "Stupid pricks." He exhales smoke through his nose and stares at 
  the girl, sharply. "Why are you telling me this?"

Xandra widens her eyes and taps her nose. "You're one of the spooky people, 
  Mister. You think this a haunted house? But, see, those are just stories." 
  She says this with a knowledgable air, but her eyes indicate she's not so 
  sure, and she makes that odd warding gesture again.

Salem's expression changes subtly, the growling rage shifting closer to the 
  surface. He takes a final inhalation from the cigarette and then drops it on 
  the ground, crushing it out underfoot as he takes a step toward her. "Who 
  are you?" he asks, and his voice is sharp with command.

Xandra takes a big step backwards, without even thinking about it. "I--" her 
  eyes show whites. "I'm Alixandra. I live at the Project... Elan? Do you know 
  Elan, or Dillan? Or Pids? Pids lives at the Project sometimes... Elan, he's 
  part of a gang, sort of. With Pids, and Jimmy. And Dillan, he works for 
  Oscar, but we never see Oscar anymore..." She trails off as she realizes she 
  is babbling and stares at Salem with wide eyes. Then she says softly, "Who 
  are you?"

Salem lets the rage growl just under the surface of his flesh as he regards 
  her coldly. Long-fingered hands fold themselves into the pockets of his 
  coat. "Nobody you want to know, little girl."

Xandra swallows visibly and attempts to regain her composure. "What I want and 
  what I'm responsible for don't always match up." Her voice is held steady, 
  but it's a clear effort.

Salem snorts. "You're not responsible for me. I'm no one you need to know."

Xandra raises her head. "I'm responsible to Buick, though, and Dillan, and... 
  others. And you might be... important." She looks at the cigarette again, 
  eyes unfocusing a little.

Salem smiles without a trace of humor, showing a gleam of white teeth. "They 
  know me. At least, your friend Elan does."

Xandra looks oddly reassured by this. "Oh... okay." She offers Salem a 
  tentative smile.

Salem doesn't smile back. Not even a hint. After a moment, he lights up 
  another cigarette.

Xandra lets her smile fade and stares at him broodingly for a moment. If he 
  takes no other actions, she heads north, to the fountain and the clean-up 
  effort.

Salem lets her go without further comment, as if he'd dismissed her from his 
  attention.

Xandra travels north, making her way through the tall grass to the fountain.
Xandra has left.