New Cubs

[hazlogs]

It is currently 23:13 Pacific Time on Sat Mar 16 2002.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (21% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is lightly snowing. The temperature is 32
degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the east at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.87 and
rising, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 31
degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius.)


Farmhouse: Kitchen and Dining Room

Homey is the first word to come to mind when looking at the farmhouse's
kitchen. Dark, wood-paneled wainscoting covers the walls to about waist
height, dark beige wallpaper continuing to the ceiling. Twin refrigerators
occupy the north wall, facing the large six-burner stove on the south. The
kitchen counter runs the length of the eastern wall, broken only by the
double-basin sink. Cabinets run above and below the counter and a
twin-pane window is set in the wall above the sink. A small pantry is set
into an alcove alongside the refrigerators, presumably holding the deep
freezer as well as shelves of dry goods.

Some twelve feet above the floor, a large chandelier hangs from the
ceiling, lighting the dining room and casting long shadows over the bar to
the kitchen. A long table occupies the center of the dining room, three
chairs setting along each side, and one on each end. On the west wall, a
large window looks out on the trees alongside the western pasture. Set
into the north wall is a large cabinet, its glass doors closed on shelves
containing a full compliment of fine china and glassware as well as a few
decorative nicknacks. On the east, a wide bar separates the dining room
from the kitchen.

An opening in the southern wall allows passage to the front entryway of
the house, while a sliding glass door in the kitchen opens to a clearing
behind the house.


Aubrey nods to Luke in reply, "Of course!" Then she turns back to
Lancelot, "Speaking of hockey, how are you doing?" Aubrey is going in all
directions at once as she finally turns to Tobin with a puzzled look over
her face as she notices him scowling, "What's up?" she asks the Fang cub.

Salem raps twice on the door before pushing it open and stepping inside.
"Anyone home?" the Glass Walker asks, somewhat dryly.

Geoffrey pretty much attempts to dodge nasty looks, and heads for
somewhere out of the way to sit. Anywhere where he isn't right up front
will do.

Luke says "Hell yeah, someone who plays a real sport." Luke grins. "And is
a contact for me at the auto yard, if I need anything for my truck. Oh,
and a bringer of steak, to boot. I can tell we're gonna get along just
fine."

Peggy flits her eyes between Sepdet and Geoffrey, trying to discern
whether or not they've met.

Tobin just shakes his head at Aubrey, still looking decidedly unhappy but
not willing to talk about it for the moment, it seems. He leans his
walking stick in a corner and starts poking around for hot chocolate
ingredients. He does notice that look that Sepdet gives Geoffrey, and
comments over his shoulder as he searches, "Sepdet-rhya, I /think/ that
Geoffrey there is a new cub of your tribe. He wasn't sure the first time I
met him, and I don't know how much he's learned since. But his kinfetch
found Seeker."

Sepdet doesn't give Geoffrey much of a chance to find a corner. "Who are
you"" she asks very quietly, her near-whisper carrying at a different
level from the rest of the room. As Tobin answers for her, she scoops up
her bowl and jerks her chin towards the living room. "Ah. Come."

As Tobin and Sepdet 'talk shop,' Lancelot puts on his best 'I'm not
listening' face, concentrating on his soup for a moment. As they head for
the living room, he answers Aubrey's question. "Pretty good. I've earned a
spot in the second scoring line, so I'm getting a bout fifteen minute a
game now. We're not doing as well as I'd like, record-wise, but there are
some tough schools in our division."

Geoffrey doesn't make a sound, at all. Nothing. He just takes a curious
glance towards Sepdet, and heads for the living room as told. Not like
he's got much of a choice.

"Apparantly so," says Salem -- mostly to himself -- as he tugs off his
gloves. His good eye sweeps across the gathering, marking faces. His gaze
pauses briefly on Sepdet, a twitch of frowning place-the-face passing
briefly across saturnine features.

Peggy watches Salem without seeming to watch him, not wanting to get his
attention. Every so often she spares him a sidelong glance, looking away
hurriedly if he glances in her directon.

Sepdet's eyes lock briefly on the intimidating new arrival who's fully
half again her height. There's an acknowledgement of sorts--apparently she
recognizes him--and then she moves past him without any sign of unease or
alarm.

Aubrey rolls her eyes at the ceiling as she listens to Luke, "Terrific."
is the Fianna's reply. She still, however, has a light smile held across
her lips. Then she hops on her toes, "That's great, I mean, at least
you're trying? You weren't as far earlier in the year." Tobin is ignored,
dispite that Aubrey would like to talk with him. Everyone seems to have
issuses going on at the moment and Aubrey is stuck in the middle
somewhere.

Sepdet passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.

Geoffrey passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.

In the front rooms, Sepdet plants herself in one of the chairs and nods
for the Strider cub to take a seat. "You know who I am. I assume you have
questions."

Salem nods politely to Sepdet, though still without full recognition, and
then turns toward the person most trying _not_ to look at him, rather like
a teacher singling out the student who wishes the hardest not to be called
on. "I don't bite, generally speaking," he says to Peggy.

In the front rooms, Geoffrey slips into a seat, still looking out of
place. "I'm guessing you're one of the Elders I've heard about. I'd have
questions I suppose, if I knew what I'm asking about."

For a fraction of a second, Peggy meets the eyes of the imposing stranger,
looking away quickly, unnerved. "Hi," she forces out, keeping her voice
flat.

Tobin glances at the new arrival briefly, blinks, and looks back to take a
closer look. His eyes go wide as he looks the tall man over, not bothering
to hide the fact that he's staring. "Shadow Lord," he says to himself in
an awed whisper.

Luke doesn't know the guy, so he gets a curious glance. Food is still
higher on the priority list than conversation, however, so he doesn't say
anything just yet.

Salem's attention perks, and his eye swings rather sharply toward Tobin.
His expression has hardened a notch, but his voice remains perfectly even,
his tone pleasant. "No, Glass Walker. Jack Salem, Philodox."

In the front rooms, Sepdet is quiet for a moment, letting Geoff get used
to the tiny slip of a woman barely older in human years than himself-- and
the odd scars presently marring her face and hands. "Learn by listening.
That is the first task of a Silent Strider: to notice. The second is to
find the right questions." She takes a few sips of soup. "I am Sepdet.
Seer and Harbinger of our tribe, two things you will understand someday.
You are Garou, and most likely Silent Strider as he and I. This means you
have great gifts, great responsibilities, and will be a risk to yourself
and others until trained. Learn, and you shall inherit all the roads of
the world. Fail, and this is your last road." She looks at him
expectantly.

Luke looks up at the large man's introduction. Apparently that draws his
attention where a simple arrival didn't. "Glass Walker. Don't suppose you
have any friends in the newspaper or TV news business? The kind that could
get a filler piece put on the air?"

Tobin shakes his head briskly, then stands up straighter to a polite
posture. "Sorry Rhya, I thought I recognized you, is all. Or maybe one of
me did or--" he breaks off and shakes his head again. He takes a deep
breath and introduces himself, "I am Tobin, Theurge cub to the Silver
Fangs." He still doesn't look entirely convinced of Mr. Salem's tribe.

Lancelot just eats his soup, hoping like hell a fight isn't going to
start.

As the conversation progresses, Peggy appears more and more out of place,
looking around for a way to escape without seeming rude.

Salem gives Tobin a rather critical visual once-over, and then nods. "A
pleasure," he says, all courtesy, and then glances at Luke. "Perhaps. What
did you have in mind?"

Aubrey watches the room quietly as she leans against the counter next to
Lancelot, actually being able to eat as well. She seems to inhale the soup
as if she hasn't eaten all day.

In the front rooms, Geoffrey blinks. Brain overload. Woah. He's only a kid
you know. "Well, nice to meet you." Yeah, he's utterly lost. Just to prove
it, he shift back and forth nervously in his seat. Trying not to let
confusion turn to frustration, which in turn can be anger. "Maybe we can
find someplace with a bit less.. noise?" He motions to the busy room that
pours noise into this one. "Otherwise, I'm listening."

Luke says "A piece about a rare species of owl breeding in the area. We'd
have to get with Sepdet on the timing, but I'm intending it to be a lure
for some bastards who are killing owls around here."

In the front rooms, Sepdet does not relinquish her soup, cupping it in her
hands. A second time this evening, she wills away weariness and rises to
her feet, moving towards the front porch.

In the front rooms, Sepdet leaves through the front door. You can hear the
screen door swing shut again with a clatter.

In the front rooms, Geoffrey leaves through the front door. You can hear
the screen door swing shut again with a clatter.

Tobin shivers once, very slightly, at being examined by the Shadow-- er,
Glass Walker. Strange vibes from this fellow. He turns back around and
busies himself with prepping hot chocolate.

Salem arches an eyebrow at the notion of owl-murders, then nods. Reaching
into his coat, the Glass Walker removes -- no, not a Palm Pilot -- a small
black notebook and jots down a few words. "Any particular rare species?"

Luke shrugs, "Our resident expert is out with her cub -- I know more about
the spirit variety than the physical ones. We'll need one that will draw
some notice, but not _too_ much notice, because we want to draw in our
poachers but not nearly so many people just there to study birds."

Now that the path through the living room is free, Peggy heads out that
way. "I'm going to sit on the porch for a bit...get some fresh air," she
says softly when she's certain it won't interrupt anything. "Anyone else?"
Having thus provided an escape hatch for anyone scared of Salem, she
leaves the room as quickly as she can without being obvious about it.

Peggy passes through the open doorway for the front part of the house.

Salem glances over toward the front rooms briefly. "Sepdet?" That
where-do-I-know-her puzzle is suddenly solved. "Ah. Of course." He makes
nother note, closes the book, and secrets it back into his coat. "I'll see
what we can do," he says to Luke.

Peggy slides open the door in the kitchen, passing through into the back
yard.

Tobin finishes with the making of the hot chocolate, and now proceeds to
the drinking of the hot chocolate. He's turned around and is leaning
against the counter. He cradles the mug in both hands and stares wide-eyed
at Salem over the rim, in between sips.

Luke says "Thank you. If you don't mind giving me your number, then I'll
let you know when the best timing for it would be."

Salem, for that, reaches into another pocket and produces a plain white
business card. No name, just a phone number and an e-mail address. He
hands this to Luke. "I check both daily. If you're in the city, you can
also contact me at the safe house." For the moment, at least, he ignores
Tobin.

Luke nods, taking the card and putting it into his wallet. "I'm usually
around here, if there turns out to be a limited amount of spots for the
story, or something along those lines."

Tobin's eyelids start lowering of their own volition until he starts awake
and blinks. In one motion he drains the mug and sets it in the sink. He
starts moving tiredly towards the living room, moving like an old man. "My
lords," he says in an equally tired voice, but tinged with a Russian
accent. "It has been a long day and we are weary. So, I bid you
goodnight." He goes out into the living room and up the stairs.

"Of course," says Salem to Luke, and then turns his head to give the
departing Fang cub a bemused, dubious look. "'We'?"

Luke just shrugs. "Silver Fang thing," is the explanation he offers. "But
anyway, I've gotta be heading up to bed. It's late, and you don't get a
name like Runs-at-Dawn by sleeping in," he says with a faint grin.

Salem returns the grin with a thin, controlled smile of his own. "I
understand perfectly, being something of an early riser myself. It was a
pleasure meeting you."

Luke says "Good meeting you, too." Gathering any excess dishes from the
cooking, he puts them in the sink and starts heading for the stairs.
"G'night."

"Good night," Salem returns. As Luke vanishes, the Glass Walker helps
himself out the back.