Differing Philosophies

[hazlogs]

It is currently 16:47 Pacific Time on Sun May 26 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 67 degrees
Fahrenheit (19 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from
variable directions at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.92 and
falling, and the relative humidity is 61 percent. The dewpoint is 53 degrees
Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (100% full).


Harbor Park -- Fountain


Salem is seated on a bench facing the fountain, elbows resting on his knees
and hands clasped together. Lost in thought, brow lowered, the Walker
watches the cascading water.

Renee makes her way though the park, hands stuffed into her pockets and
shoulders hunched. The girl comes to a stop when she reaches the chalk lines
at the edge of the fountain and crouches down, studying the artwork.

Behind his sunglasses, Salem's gaze shifts sidewards toward the Bone Gnawer
cub. His mouth tightens slightly; he straightens up, lacing his fingers
together and turning them palms-outward as he stretches his arms.

Renee continues to study the artwork, not looking up until Salem is
relativly close. "Hello Salem," she rumbles, before her eyes go back to the
chalk drawing. "Do you know who did this? I like it."

Salem relaxes from the stretch and slips his hands into his pockets. "No
idea," he replies, curtly.

Renee grunts and runs a finger parallel to one line, then takes her hand
back and slowly stands. "I don't usually do stuff like that, but it would be
interestin' ta try."

Salem makes a disinterested, noncommittal 'hmnh' noise by way of reply.

Renee looks up at the Walker, frowning thoughtfully. "Ya know, I don't
understand you."

Salem turns his head down toward the Gnawer. One brow rises, but otherwise,
his expression is impassive, a mask worn over a viciously-controlled temper.

"I've heard about the stuff ya did before comin' here, killin' my people."
Renee elaborates. "But, killing normal folks bothers you."

Salem's mouth curls into an expression of distaste. "That, girl, was a war.
And..." He pauses for a moment, folding his arms across his chest. "Hmnh.
And we are not at war with 'normal folks', as you put it. 'Normal folks'
have _nothing_ to do with what we do, and have _no_ chance, no chance at
_all_, against us. Oh, certainly, once in a very long while, one comes along
with superlative skills and strength of will, and a fool or two dies, but by
and large, there is no contest." He turns to face her more fully, scowling.
"Except in those cases, or in cases that pertain _directly_ to the war, we
have _no_ _right_ to interfere with them. Interfering with them is half the
fucking foundation of the _shithole_ the world is in." He unfolds his arms
and juts a finger out at her. "And most of all, their lives are not. Ours.
To. Take. Understood?"

Renee's lips thin, but she drops her eyes when the Cliath looks directly at
her. "I'm a Galliard," she rumbles. "I've been taught the old stories. A
long time ago, their lives used to be ours to take. We kept their population
in check, then things changed. I don't get a kick outta killin' humans an' I
only do it if they mess with me, or its somethin' that needs doin'. The last
thing we need, is to have them find us. Still, I don't know why you say
that. Their lives have been ours to take since the begining of time. They
freak out when they see us, because they remember being hunted. Sometimes,
thats all that saves us from detection."

Salem's temper flares. "You stupid little bint, what the hell do you think
drove them away from the wilds? From the woods, from the forests and plains,
from _Gaia_? What do you think causes them to shoot wolves, cover the world
with tar and concrete, to consume and burn and take and destroy? _Fear_.
They built their walls to keep the wolves away, to keep _us_ away, and when
it didn't work, they built _bigger_ walls." His temper is wearing
dangerously thin, and he takes a quick breath to re-establish a bit of
equilibrium. A mite more calmly, he adds, pure acid on his tongue, "Fear and
hatred and pain. The Wyrm _feeds_ on that, idiot."

Renee's jaws clenches visibly, as she shoulders hunch. "I'm not an idiot,"
she half-growls. "Just because someone doesn't think the way you do, doesn't
mean that they are stupid. Thats why we have ragabash, to remind us of
that." If the kid had fur, every hair would be standing on end. "They are
the Weaver's children, thats is why they build. That is why they try to make
everything the same, unchanging. They have lost what Gaia gave them
orrigionally, so they turn to the Weaver to survive. I live, where I am
surrounded by fear, hatred and pain. Its not caused by us. Its caused by
assholes, like the ones I killed. Those that prey on other humans because
they enjoy it, because its fun."

Salem snorts, then reaches up to remove his sunglasses, brown eye and dead
eye fixing on the Bone Gnawer inexorably. "You know _nothing_," he tells
her, lips twitching away from his teeth. He radiates anger, the killing rage
snarling and snapping in his tense, rigid stance. "And you understand
_nothing_." He keeps his gaze on her, steadily. "And let me make something
extremely and fatally clear." Out comes the finger again, pointing for
emphasis. "If you kill one more human, _one_ _more_, you had better pray
that I don't hear about it." His voice drops in pitch at the last, taking on
a growling tone, and his good eye flashes, briefly, from brown to gold.

Renee's fingers twitch inside of her pockets, as her eyes remain on her
toes. She can feel the Rage that pours off Salem and in all honesty, it
frightens her. "It is my duty to remember the past and the present, as it
becomes that past." The girl says quietly, voice having lost is pecular
harsness. "We call ourselves Gaia's warriors, but we've lost our way. We
fight and kill eachother over stupid, petty things. We have allowed the
humans to cover Gaia's face, slowly killing her. We do not hold our own
lives sacred, we do not hold HER life sacred enough, how can we call the
lives of any other species sacred?" Her words trail off in nearly a whisper,
as the cub turns and begins to walk away.

Salem grimaces, folding his arms across his chest again. "Bullshit logic,"
he rasps, but says no more than that. He lets Renee exit without hinderence.