A Reminder of Hungry Shadows

[hazlogs]

It is currently 08:07 Pacific Time on Thu Oct 15 2015.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is foggy. The temperature is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.08 and steady, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.) For more detail, see: http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=98501

Currently the moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (15% full).

The Hub: Main Floor

The main floor of 'the Hub' is a spacious, almost sprawling room, with a two-story high ceiling and a large loft that looks out over the room itself, accessed via a winding metal staircase set at the opposite end from the heavy security door. One side of the floor is completely open, with a bank of windows facing north and offering a brilliant view of the city, especially at night. The other side contains a series of doors and doorways that lead into other rooms, large and small. One is clearly a kitchen (a very nice large kitchen with its own island and eating area), one is a bathroom, and one a repurposed conference room with a smaller central table than likely existed before, and comfortable rolling chairs that have clearly been reclaimed from various goodwill sources. Other rooms serve as storage, with one standing out as a well maintained server room, from which the local Walker server, various databases, and hardware responsible for the block's free wifi can be accessed.

The open floor itself sports several areas clearly designated for various purposes, though none have been walled off from the rest in any real fashion. One contains a comfortable, beat-up couch and armchairs arranged in a semi-circle around a large flatscreen TV and coffee table, another is a bank of multiple computers, each with their own desk and office chair, while a third is a modest exercise area mostly consisting of an open space of floor covered in a cushioned mat and several free weights. A number of monitors have been mounted on the wall next to the security door; the largest displays the area immediately on the other side of the door, with another showing the interior of the private elevator. The third and largest is split into sections, with one section dedicated to the sub-basement, another to the roof, and the others switching routinely between various parts of the interior and exterior of Maxwell Tower.

Salem was up and about early this morning, albeit not half as early as was his usual habit. He's currently over in the main room's modest exercise area, clad in baggy black sweatpants and tshirt, breathing hard and looking frustrated as hell.

Heading into main room is Briari, who is as always, up and early. Today she is dressed in a pair of Aerie jogger pants and a simple haltertop. In one hand is an extra-large Red Bull and in the other is her phone that she taps away with her thumb across the screen. As she spies the young Salem, she gives a pause, then says, "Good morning sir! Are you testing the limits of your new body?"

Salem glances sharply at her and then away. "I'm trying to re-train instincts that tell me I'm should be at least a goddamn foot taller, among other things, yes." His tone is irritable and impatient, though it's obviously not directed at anyone but himself.

"I see. I can imagine that this is frustrating for you. Do you want someone to train with?" Briari asks as she gives a few swings of her arms back and forth, balancing the Red Bull carefully so not to slosh her golden sugar in a can.

Salem thinks about it for a bit, dragging fingers back through his hair and scowling down at the mat, before nodding reluctantly.

"Cool. What are you trying to work on currently? Core strength? Combat? Just getting a feel for who you are again?" Briari asks as she puts her Red Bull down. "Also, with your change, does that mean you are physically weaker as well or do you still retain that on some weird supernatural level?"

"Definitely weaker," he says, cutting a glance over toward the weights. "But, I'm less concerned about that right now than I am about not being a complete--" He cuts himself off; it's obviously a sore point. Inhale, exhale. "Let's spar, if you don't mind. Homid form, nothing too... advanced. But don't go easy, ne? I can still shift and heal that kind of shit."

"Sure. I am a brown belt in Karate and I have been training here in the city in Jiu-Jitsu just as a head's up. If by chance I get lucky and put you in an arm bar or a naked choke hold, please tap." Putting the phone down, Briari gives a quick round of stretching, then steps out of her shoes to reveal bare feet. She holds her hands up in a ground to sky formation, shifting her stance and starts to bob on her hips.

Salem, already barefoot himself, gives a tight, humorless smile at 'lucky'. He takes a moment to gather himself, his stance less formal, more street brawler than martial artist, then goes on the attack. Nothing fancy, as he suggested, just a brutal one-two punch -- that misses by a mile.

Stepping backwards at the attack, Briari blocks them both quickly with a whirl of her hands, then shoves outwards, palm out against his chest for a quick push back. Her legs give a shuffle and she whirls herself about in a quick roundhouse kick, aiming head high towards the young teen.

Salem grunts at the chest hit and stumbles back, tripping over nothing on the mat and landing ungracefully on his ass -- it's more chance than ability that lets him avoid the kick. Grimacing, he scrambles back to his feet goes at her again; she's got plenty of time to dodge or counter his blows.

As her foot swings high over his head, Briari sets her ground once more, then moves forward into his attack as she blocks his blow, grabs him waist high and looks to give him a hip toss towards the ground.

Salem hits the mat hard and rolls away -- awkwardly, messily, he wasn't joking about being off his game -- to get back to his feet, though there's opportunity for Briari to press the attack if she desires.

Instead of attacking, Briari holds her hands up. "Alright, let's slow this down a bit. I think I see the problem here. Your equilibrium is all wrong and you are over-compensating here and there. Probably used to weighing more and being taller and you have a lack of muscle memory now. I don't think that throwing you around is going to fix the issue."

The heavy security door clicks and opens--slowly, as the person pushing it inward seems considerably hesitant. The reason for that is obvious when Ghost slips through the space she's created and then lets the door close a little more loudly than necessary. Apprehensive doesn't really do her demeanor justice. There's tension around her jaw, and both hands keep clenching and unclenching. After a moment she clears her throat. "Uh...hello?"

This is a young woman of average height or a little above, maybe 5'6 or 5'7, who looks to be somewhere in her early twenties in age. She has olive skin, shoulder length dark brown hair that's almost always pulled back into a simple, tight ponytail, and even darker brown eyes that look black from any distance when they aren't catching the light. She is neither ugly nor particularly pretty, and there's a certain haggardness to her features, a sharpness defined less by genetics and more by hard living. Her build is athletic, of a sort; not the sort you see on track fields, but the sort you find among young soldiers in distant countries, or refugees that are used to moving at a moment's notice and from which reality demands a certain sort of fitness or death.

Her clothing isn't ragged, but it does tend to be rather frayed around the edges. She wears faded jeans and old but sturdy sneakers with decent treads, a variety of cheap shirts, a long sleeved button-up shirt when the wind is up, and oftentimes has a light jacket tied about her waist, as if she wanted to be prepared just in case. Her hands are well calloused, both on the palm, fingertips, and knuckles. Oftentimes she wears a very well used pair of fingerless gloves, though often these appear to have been made fingerless after the fact.

Salem, back on his feet, drags his fingers back through his hair and works at regaining his composure after the embarrassing display. He glances over toward Ghost at her entrance and says, wearily, like he'd rather get this part over with, "Hello, Ghost. It's Salem. Yes, I know. Don't ask."

"I totally would have covered for you. I already created this back story for you as my cousin who was visiting me and hiding from the mob because you ratted out a known drug dealer in Miami and he has a hit on you." Briari says cheerfully before she gives a wave to Ghost. "Bonjour Madame Ghost. What is the ups?" She plucks her Red Bull back up and takes a sip.

Ghost blinks-she's startled, there's no hiding that-but she gives a tight nod in response to the instruction. Both of them get careful glances now. "I uh. I was looking for someone who could Sense Wyrm. Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt or anything."

"The way I look, he would have taken quite a few hits already on me," Salem says dryly. Then he shakes his head at Ghost. "Briari's helping me out with some... balance issues. I /can/ sense for Wyrm, in a matter of speaking, though."

Briari gives a nod of her head. "Well, yes, it would have made you my really tough cousin." See, optimism! "I cannot sense for the Wyrm. But, I am sure I can link you up with at least six Garou here that can. I even made a spreadsheet. What's going on?"

"Yeah?" Ghost looks vaguely relieved, though she's still clenching and unclenching her hands against her sides. "I need uh...I need someone to check me over." She looks at Briari again, but as before she's not maintaining eye contact with either of them; not even close to it. "Make sure I'm clean."

The newly young Philodox frowns. "Give me a moment to clear my head," he says curtly, and then sits down on the mat.

Giving herself another few stretches after pounding her Red Bull, Briari gives a nod to Salem, then looks over to Ghost. "So, what'd you get into that got you concerned about being tainted?"

Ghost gives Salem another tight nod. She turns a little more toward Briari this time when she answers. "Nothing specific. It's just uh, some weird things. And I haven't been checked in a while, so it's always, you know, it's always a good idea every now and then. Just in case."

Giving a nod of her head, Briari slips her phone off the table and starts to tap away at it. "What kinda weird things? Like, you missed your period kinda weird things or you are having thoughts about murdering my cousin Boris from Miami and baking him in a pie kinda weird things?"

Speaking of weird things, Ghost gives Briari the strangest, most confused look at her examples. "Uh," a beat. "No. Nothing like either of those."

Salem lets them talk as he focuses on his breathing; eventually he looks up and studies Ghost carefully.

Ghost pages: She seems pretty much like she was the last time he used the gift. Maybe a little tipped toward Weaver, but given what she is /that's/ not a shock. Wyrminess? She's fine. No more or less than any other Garou.

"No? Then what is it like then?" Briari asks curiously as she gives a few punches at the air to pop her elbows.

Ghost spares a very brief glance at Salem, but most of her focus remains on the other Ragabash. "Just." More hesitation. "Umbral stuff."

"Hey, Ghost. I really hate the game twenty-questions. How about you just tell us what is going on all at once so we can cut down on handle time." Briari says with a grin towards her.

Salem grunts. "You're fine," he says, getting back to his feet. "You're more Weavery than most of us, but no moreso than you were the last time I checked you. I don't sense any Wyrm-taint at all."

Ghost doesn't say anything in response to Briari, not right away, which gives Salem time to render his verdict. The glance she gives him is the briefest yet, and her eyes go somewhere to the floor in front of Briari rather than back to Briari herself. She looks confused, and not in any way relieved. "No? I. Okay. Okay, that's...thanks, Mr. Salem."

Briari lifts her brow upwards, at least one, rising upwards towards her blonde hair.

"What /is/ this about, Ghost?" Salem folds his arms across his chest and frowns up at the semi-rogue Glass Walker.

Ghost reaches up slowly, deliberately, and rubs at the back of her neck. "I've...been noticing some weird things, past few months," she says. It's like she's having to drag the words out with a string. "Maybe a little longer, actually. I uh. It was a long time since I had somewhere I could go in the Umbra that was relatively safe, you know? And Mr. Dalton wanted me to keep an eye on Harbor Park anyway. So every now and then I'd go looking for a spirit I could talk to. Make a deal to learn something." A faint grimace. "I don't actually know if that's okay with you guys. I'll make it up if not, I promise. It's just. Things were fine. Deals went okay. But then some spirits, they started acting a little...funny towards me. Not Cockroach, but some others."

"Like, what kinda funny?" Briari asks curiously as she flips her phone sideways and taps away at it slowly with both of her thumbs.

Salem takes a seat on the weight bench -- using it /as/ a bench, clearly not intending to start lifting weights. He continues to study Ghost, brow furrowed.

"Just...a little strange." Ghost seems to realize she's being infinitely unhelpful, because for all that she's still acting like she's having to drag the words out, she keeps going this time. "Sort've...stand-offish? I mean, more than they ever were. Usually I'm okay with the spirits that'll deal with me. That's how it started anyway. And, uh, and then some of them started getting skittish. Then...really skittish. Mostly smaller ones. Uh. Gafflings."

"You want to pop into the Umbra with me and take a peek and see what happens?" Briari asks curiously as she finishes typing, then slips into the pocket of her joggers. "I can even bring a Theurge along with us to talk on your behalf and see if we can get an answer."

"Are Weaver spirits skittish around you as well?" Salem interjects his own question.

"No," Ghost says, a little too sharply. "Uh. No. That's okay." To Salem, she nods. "Yeah. It's not...entirely the little ones any more though. Cockroach spirits aren't. At...least the last time I was around them."

"Well, it is not okay if it is a concern, and if there -is- something wrong with you that is not related to taint, then we should explore it." Briari says with a firm nod of her head. "It makes no sense for spirits to be wary of you."

Salem nods. "Spirits can often sense things we can't. Hell, nearly all of them are adept at just recognizing friend from foe. A Bane always knows when you're not another Bane unless you've got the appropriate fetish or whatnot. For example. I think a Theurge consultation would be very much in order."

Ghost wets her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. "I didn't, uh, I wasn't really worried about taint because of skittish spirits. Today, I mean. It's. There's...more now. More that's weird." The way she says weird, however, suggests it might be a last minute replacement. It feels a little weak when it comes out of her mouth.

"Maybe we should set you up with Dakota. I can give her a text and have her meet up with us at some point. Only other city Theurge I know of is Benny but I do not think that may be his skill-set." Briari says as she taps the screen a few more times. "It is worth investigating in my opinion."

Dryly, Salem says, "Well, there's also Mouse, but unfortunately she's got her hands full with other projects." He shrugs. "Besides, Dakota's quite skilled in her own right."

"I don't think it would be a good idea," Ghost says very, very delicately. "Not uh, not Dakota I mean, she's okay. Just. Theurges. Or. I've been working with Emma." Because an Ahroun makes so much more sense than a Theurge? "Haven't seen her recently though. I've been out of sight."

"Yeah, well, I was thinking Mouse may be overkill for something like this." Briari says with a wry grin. "And why would you think a Theurge would not be a good idea when this happens to involve spiritual relationships?" She squints her eyes. "You are throwing up so many flags that makes my investigative mind think there is something you are not telling us."

Salem mutters something that sounds like, "No kidding," and scratches absent-mindedly at a particularly ugly scar on his right forearm.

"A few things," Ghost mumbles, after a long, long hesitation. It's as much a confession as anything else. "I told Emma about the skittish thing when I started noticing it, it's just...it got worse. And now, uh, maybe, I think I know why they were--are--like that. I just don't want Garou freaking out." She lifts her eyes finally. "Because I'm kind've freaking out."

"Yeah, well, you are kinda freaking me out. I think there would be less freaking out if you were honest about what is going on and then we can try and find a resolution. And, I do not like freaking out, and because you planted that seed, now I won't be able to shut my brain up, which means I am probably gonna tag Dakota anyways, because it is the right thing to do." Briari gives a flex of her fingers on one hand.

"Call her," Salem says, glancing at Briari. He drags his fingers back through his hair, looking troubled. To Ghost, he says, "Believe me when I say I /absolutely/ understand the desire to keep things to yourself. How that gets to be a habit. But we can't help until and unless we know exactly /what/ is going on."

Ghost shifts her weight to her back foot and hugs her arms, though this doesn't do anything to stop the nervous clenching her hands are still doing. "I look different," she says, answering Salem without looking at him. "Over there. I didn't used to. And you said I'm not tainted. And the...the weirdness, it started after I accidentally helped Emma with." A beat. "When she was sick."

Salem raises an eyebrow. "Sick?"

Briari flips her phone up to her ear after tapping a button, then edges a few steps away from them as she listens to the ringback tone, chuckling to herself. Nickleback.

Ghost watches Briari as she moves, then looks to Salem. She nods, once. "Like a cold, or the flu. She said she got it from a Dancer that was infected with this...oozy shit? The stuff she and Val have been looking into for a while."

After hanging up the phone, Briari heads back to Ghost and young teen-Salem and says, "She is on her way over. I will let her in when she sends me a text."

Salem grimaces. "The Nothing, in other words. That would fit in with what we first learned about it, ne? Spirits were afraid of it." He nods to Briari, though much of his attention's on Ghost. "Are you saying you look like... what /are/ you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm worried about Garou helping," Ghost says. She clearly tries not to wince at Briari's news, but she doesn't quite manage that. "I don't know. I haven't seen any of that shit firsthand, just what you guys have told me. But uh. ...Different. It's hard to describe. My eyes, and uh. Hair. Freaky." A beat. "More freaky than usual."

"Well, I am sure if it got worse you would feel even more worried about not having pre-emptive help. Sometimes you gotta cut a finger off to save the whole hand." Briari says as she tucks her phone back into her jogger pocket. "What is going on with your eyes and hair? Are you leaking ooze or something out of them?"

Salem catches himself about to bite on a thumbnail, scowls, and disappears briefly into one of the other rooms. He returns in short order with a lit cigarette.

Ghost watches Salem go, and in the brief interim responds, "Yeah, but I'd rather not get cut off." She looks at Briari, and shakes her head. "No, I'm not...leaking."

Dakota can't have been too far away because it doesn't take her long to arrive. Upon arrival, the Gaian pauses outside the entry to the Hub and sends Briari the pre-arranged text to let her know she's here.

"Well, I think we'd rather you not go Super Saiyan and take your final form either if whatever it is is messing you up." Briari glances down at the phone, then starts for the door. "Holy shit she is fast. I will be right back." And off she goes!

"What she, ah, said." Salem watches Briari go, then turns his good eye back on Ghost. "How long has this been going on?"

Ghost doesn't look reassured at all by Briari's response--quite the opposite--and she eyes the door and then the windows for a moment before answering Salem. "Since the thing with Emma. Uh, the whole 'skittish spirits' thing. That was around March. Looking different? I uh, I noticed something was weird a few months ago, but it wasn't really something I could pin down as actually different or wrong."

"This is why we're best in packs," says the newly young Philodox. "So shit like this gets nipped in the bud."

After getting Dakota through security, Briari and the Adren of Excelsior can be heard catching up on a few things before stepping back into the room. "Ta-da" She motions dramatically with her hands. "May I present you the Mistress of rituals!" With that, the phone comes back out again and she starts to tap away. "Oh, Dakota. The young thirteen year old is Salem. Dem Umbral trips, right? Fucking Fae."

Dakota follows her way in behind Briari, giving pause at the Ragabash's dramatic introduction. There's a half smile from the Theurge as she remarks, "Only thing missing is the red carpet there. Hello everyone and... hm. Wow. Um, welcome back, Salem." She says with a faint note of sympathetic pity to her voice. "So! What's going on?"

Ghost nods in quiet agreement before tearing her eyes from the windows to look toward the door, and the new entry. Her fingers tighten a little on her arms.

Briari pages: Ding: Text message: G is calculating escape routes based upon proximity. She knows more than she is telling us.

Salem grimaces a little at Dakota's reaction and shrugs. "Ghost's been having difficulty in the Umbra. Spirits getting skittish around her, her appearance changing. Likely but not completely confirmed connection to the black ooze, the Nothing, or whatever the fuck we're calling it now." He takes a drag off his cigarette, exhales. His pocket chatters a text alert; he pulls out the new phone Mouse set up for him and takes a very brief glance at its screen before putting it away. He eyeballs Ghost.

As she types away, Briari lets out a bit of a hum in her throat as she listens to the ranking garou talk. "We were thinking you could take a look at her, maybe see if you can see something we can't."

Dakota glances towards Ghost and takes in her appearance with a studious squint and quick looksy over. "Oh right! I thought the name rang a bell. We met in the park the one time. Mm, this ooze is a right pain in the ass. I'm hoping the fetish I'm making might help with it, among other issues going around, but it's not quite ready yet. Only problem with those... they can hose at the last second if you're not careful. Spirits are so fickle. Anyway! So back to spirits being fickle and twitchy. I know they definitely do not like the ooze, not even stronger ones right up to the caern totems. They warned me once to ensure it doesn't come anywhere near the caern. So, if they're running from you then that definitely sounds like it's got some touch on you. Besides the physical, how are /You/ feeling? Off in any way?"

Though only 5'4", her slim athletic body is well toned with tight, sleek muscles. Her skin is a pale cream, left free of most cosmetics. Faded lines of white mark her wrists and arms, barely seen on her light complexion. Noticeably, however, is an ash-darkened scar running the length of the top of her right hand. Normally hidden by clothes is another - a jagged, large scar that runs from the back of her right shoulder blade up across and over her collar bone to her chest. Her eyes are a dark brown, ranging from neutrality to expressive. Her hair is long and wavy, a rich, dark auburn brown that is generally left loose, but occasionally bound. Her clothing is mostly cotton and denim, all of it generally casual and leaning towards a laid-back bohemian style.

Ghost shakes her head in answer. "I feel fine," she says. "Same as always. Uh, get sick now and then, like usual, no more, no less. Maybe more nightmares?" She hesitates, and then says, "Definitely more nightmares, I guess. Haven't been anywhere near any of this ooze whatever."

"But you had contact with Emma when she got sick after dealing with one of the ooze-tained Dancers." Salem's been paying attention. "So, perhaps not /direct/ contact, but..."

"Yeah," Ghost confirms, reluctantly. "There was that."

Dakota tips her head towards Salem in agreement. "Could be a bit of a contagious aspect. Well, I can't say I'm an expert on this by any means but then I don't know any of us that are. So, there's going to be guesswork involved in this. First thing will be seeing you on the other side. I'll see if I can get a spirit willing to tell us what's wigging them out. I do know /where/ a sample of the ooze is. I can't say what'd happen if you're near an actual part of it though so we'll save that for a later check. I rather avoid the actual substance if at all possible."

Ghost grimaces. "You've got samples?" She doesn't try to disguise the dubious note in her voice. "...Yeah. Okay. Emma and I went to ask when it first started happening. She uh, she asked her pack totem."

Salem raises an eyebrow. "What did the Oracle say?"

Briari peeks up from her phone at the conversation, looking just as curious.

"Not me." Dakota explains, "But there's one around, at least there had been. Scientific studies and the like. Dirk, Viv, and I went near Hanford in the Umbra - and by near I meant well away but in the area. It was a wasteland but the ooze was there. Praeses is a powerful spirit for a totem but even he was scared to death to be there but he came to save our asses. But then, even the caern totems fear this. Ideally though the spirits will like me enough to chat, we usually have really good rapport." As Salem asks the important question, she looks to Ghost for the response.

Ghost inhales slowly, as if steadying herself. "She said something about me was unsettling. That's uh, that's the word she used. And that I reminded her of 'hungry shadows'. Emma said I was Garou, and not tainted, and the Oracle agreed. She said I was..." She trails off, brow furrowing as she tries to dredge up the memory. "She said she didn't know what had changed, or if something had changed. She said before I was Garou, and now I was Garou with reminders, and that's why they were unsettled, because I was reminding them. Emma took some of my blood, to see if that was doing it? It didn't make them skittish around her though. The Oracle said it was just my blood."

"Reminders." Salem gets to his feet and limps a few steps away from the weight bench. "Interesting."

"So the Oracle said that you were not bon Garou, or did she mean before your first change?" Briari asks as she leans herself against the wall.

"Hungry... the same words the other spirits used." Dakota murmurs thoughtfully. "This isn't Wyrmish, we've determined that already. Cleansing helps to a small degree on things but not living ones. So something about your blood or in it has some connection or reflection of the ooze and it may not have always been that way or... in an active state, so to speak, as if something triggered this trait to wake up. The blood itself though didn't freak her out? Only felt a bit the same?" She says in the tone of someone asking a question but mostly thinking out loud. "I know you have no reason to trust me, so you'll either answer or no. I'm just hunting for any clues. Is there anything in your history that would potentially have any relations to this ooze? Experiments, really unusual spirit encounters, nightmares you'd mentioned but any in the past too... and what were these nightmares?"

Ghost shakes her head. "She said I was Garou before the weirdness started. And after the weirdness, I was 'Garou, but she comes with reminders'. That's how she put it. It was because Emma was telling her I was Garou and not tainted. And uh, and on your side." She licks her lips before answering Dakota. "Emma took some of my blood and asked the Oracle if it was part of the reminder. And she said 'No. Only a part of the Garou who reminds them'." She looks at the Child of Gaia now, the muscles around her mouth tensing. "Just what we had to do for my fetish, but nothing to do with ooze or Hanford or monsters. I've always had nightmares. Emma said, uh, Val too, there's nightmares about darkness and dripping and cold." There's a moment, a clear one, where she clearly holds back before continuing anyway. "I've always had ones like that too. Not all of them, or most of them, but some of them."

Salem glances at Dakota. "/If/ I'm remembering all this shit correctly, and it has been a while, but the Nothing is... old. Or at least the epitome of /other/. And spirits have very long memories." He eyes Ghost. "The Oracle didn't say what you were reminding her /of/, did she?"

Dakota purses her lips in a wordless oh. "Makes sense. Blood is blood outside of you, away from your spirit. The reminder is You. This ooze definitely reeks of primordial beginning of time sort of stuff. Like it was an avatar of, well, Nothing. It IS Nothing. Those nightmares are in the same vein. Alicia had those when she contacted the stuff in the house James Exorcised. Lifelong ones though? Crap like that smells of destiny if you're really meaning your whole life."

"Hungry shadows," Ghost says with an unhappy shrug. "She didn't get more specific." Nothing about what Dakota says seems to lighten her mood either. "...As long as I can remember."

Salem looks rueful. "'Hungry shadows'. Nice and cryptic." He takes another drag off the cigarette, looking restless. "Perhaps we need to speak to an older spirit. A /much/ older spirit."

"Well, what type of old spirit would you suggest?" Briari asks Dakota as she stops typing on her phone for a moment. "You would think earth spirits would be the oldest types. Dirt sticks around longer than anything, but, uh... this is not my forte."

"Then we go older." Dakota says. "I recall someone mentioning a dream, of this Nothing and its opposite forming the land itself. The mountains. Blue mountains here could be a place to start, old and bound to have a good memory. James I know has some connections with at least one earth spirit. I can ask if he's willing to inquire there too."

Ghost relaxes just slightly, now that she's not the immediate focus of discussion. "This is out of my element too," she says. "But earth, stone, mountains. That sounds like a good idea to me if you want old."

Salem nods. "Makes sense." He eyes Ghost. "As for you... I want you to keep close, and keep /communicating/ with us, especially if anything changes."

Briari gives a firm nod of her head. "As well as updates on your emotional and physiological status. If there are any changes, even if you get a tummy ache. It should all be documented, just in case something does happen to you, that we can try and prevent it happening to someone else."

"Keep a journal." Dakota says to Ghost. "Old-fashioned, but anything you feel, dream, think might be of use old or new. Then let the Walkers know. Soon as we get a safe night, I can check you properly Umbraside and I'll check on having a chat with the mountains. If I can finish this fetish, the goal is to use it in order to see the past and what happened at Hanford - or even before. I wanted to track the history of this stuff. If I can ask the right question, maybe it'd tell me the link to you."

Ghost inhales slowly. "Yes, sir," she says to Salem. Briari gets a hesitant, somewhat dismayed look, and Dakota a careful sort of nod. "Okay, I. ...Okay."

"That is an /excellent/ idea," Salem says of Dakota's suggestion. Then he asks, "Is there anything, any assistance you need in regards to your fetish?"

"Hmm," Mutters Dakota as she scratches at the back of her neck. "It'd made, purified. I'm just charging it up. Then once it has the juice I need to find the spirit willing to call it home. A squirrel, since the paintbrush head was made with the fur of a white squirrel. It's called an Omen Brush. The Howlers invented it so I'm a bit slow in the prep due to translating an old ass manuscript. Should work though."

Ghost goes quiet, though she's clearly still listening. Her arms have relaxed enough that her hands have almost, but not quite, dropped away.

Both of Salem's eyebrows go up. "That's... that's damned impressive." His phone chatters again in his pocket. He sticks the cigarette between his lips to check it, frowns, and heads up the stairs with a muttered, "Excuse me." (He almost trips over one of the steps near the top and swears in Serbian about it.)