Fresh Air

[hazlogs]

Date: Sometime during the latter half of the week that the Sept won back the caern.
Location: Harbor Park

The Glass Walker sits on a bench near the fountain, wearing a lightweight black trenchcoat despite the summer weather; the brim of his fedora's tilted forward, and sunglasses hide his eyes. He's half-slumped, tapping one-fingered at a PDA.

Lyra managed to get her sweatshirt to a washing machine...the old bloodstains have been replaced by faint light blue spots where bleach was vigorously applied, and the bullet holes down the left side and shoulder have been sewn together with an ill-matching shade of blue thread, the craftsmanship rather crude. Oh well, ragged is as ragged does. The cub seems to be just taking a stroll, a small knapsack over one shoulder. She sees Salem on the bench- her first instinct is to walk up and say hi, and her second is to turn the other direction. Lyra stops for a moment, looking up at the sky and searching for the moon...so early in the afternoon, it was a bit hard to find...

Salem has that inborn aura of Rage about him, as he usually does, but his posture suggests more weariness than ready-to-frenzy tension. Also, as Lyra deliberates, he shifts his position on the bench, face twisting into a suppressed grimace of pain.

If one stood tiptoe and peered behind the line of trees, one could make out the sliver of a moon. Anything but full. Lyra glances back at the Walker, tapping away at his PDA. She takes a deep breath, then puts on her most respectful smile, the kind you used on the vice principal. "Hey, Mr. Salem," she calls out, walking towards him jauntily. "I'm glad to see you're back from your business trip."

Salem glances up. The dark lenses keep the Walker's eyes from view, but the set of his mouth is merely solemn, not irritated. "Lyra. Hello." He gives the PDA another few taps, then turns it off. "Business trip?"

Lyra stands at the other end of the bench, sneaker pressing against one of the legs, body rocking a bit back and forth. "From earlier this week?" she says softly, still smiling. Her hands go up to tug the knapsack on a little tighter. "I mean...I guess the charm worked. You're here. You're not hurt very badly, are you? Yi has arm trouble now, and..." The cub sighs. "I saw Anneka...."

Salem says, "Ah," as he puts two and two together. "_That_ business trip." He straightens up on the bench, jaws clenching slightly, and then gives the Gnawer a curt nod. "It did. I don't _seem_ to have contracted any lasting damage, despite falling foul of one of their traps."

Lyra's smile gets brighter at that bit of news. "That's good," she says softly. "Jacob was worried. He was staying at the shop, with the other cu- kids. He really likes his computer, managed to string it to the Internet in no time flat." She shrugs a bit, rocking back, grinning. "It's a nicer machine then mine... do all of your kids get them?"

Salem folds his arms across his chest. "Generally, yes. Part of the... perks, you might say." He rubs at his beard. "Nothing, mnh, unfortunate happened while we were off in the woods, did it?"

Lyra's grin fades a bit; her rocking-on-heels slows. "There was an incident," she murmurs, tone not as lighthearted as before, but calm. "A break in, by some men who were after possessions of my aunt. Rhiannon and Dr. Alec were there. Rhiannon got the kids out while Alec shot at the intruders and I...well, I mean, everyone got out safe. Alec got shot in the foot."

Salem grunts. "The doctor attracts trouble. Bad timing, then." He stifles a sigh, then pushes the sunglasses up to rub at his eyes; there are dark smudges under both.

Lyra notices. It's hard not to, when every other cliath had been bone tired also. "Sir? Haven't you gotten sleep since then?"


[Lyra is disconnected and unable to return.]
[Later...]


Salem sits on a bench near the fountain, dressed almost entirely in black, arms folded across his chest and legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. Activity in the park is thinning out as the shadows lengthen; local people generally /don't/ want to be in the place after dark.

Raven appears at one far end of the park with a shorter, four-legged counterpart. Their silhouettes in the new moon become more distinct as they near the Glass Walker. "C'mon, Bear, stop slowing down," the girl grumbles, tugging on the lead. The German Shepherd seems intent on staying away from Salem, however, as they reach hearing distance of him.

Salem sits up at the unfamiliar voice, suppressing a wince, and turns toward the girl and her dog. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes narrow; his lips compress into a thin line.

The struggle continues briefly with the dog whining and straining, but finally he relents to Raven's firm grip. "Baron!" Giving the dog a reassuring pat, she turns around and almost starts at the sight of the man observing her. "Uhm, sorry 'bout that. Stupid ol' sod's been gettin' really jumpy lately. Guess s'better than having him jumpin' on people like before," she explains easily. "Nice park, isn't it?" Her voice appears too sincere to be sarcastic.

Salem continues to study the girl and her pet steadily, the former in particular. "Yes, it is." His tone's polite, albeit with an edge of weariness. "Though not a favorite these days, I'm afraid. Are you new in town?"

Raven leans down and pats Baron's side in the way that people do with big animals they aren't scared of hurting, and the dog sits reluctantly, though he warily regards Salem in return. His mistress nods, speculatively. "Kind've new." Her eyes survey the dreary landscape for a moment, and she gives an easy shrug. "At least this place's interesting. Sometimes my friends hang out here, so it's gotta be a favorite to someone, right?"

One corner of Salem's mouth twitches, very slightly, upwards. "It does have its share of interesting history." The smile, minor as it was, vanishes.

"Yeah?" The girl squints at the dilapidated state of the park. "What kind of history? Some kind of grounds for political d'sputes? Always have some of those with public nature recreation types of areas." Her brows draw together thoughtfully, and she looks directly at the philodox, expecting some sort of explanation.

"Gang wars, mass death, exploding fountains..." Salem delivers this in an utterly deadpan tone of voice.

Raven purses her lips into a thoughtful frown, absently scratching her extremely tense dog between the ears. "This one in't so bad a replacement," she murmurs, adding more to herself in speculation, "Sure lot worse than gang wars happened."

Salem rubs absently at his chin. "Hm. Not often. Not here, in any case."

Raven continues to study the area, this time focusing more of her attention on Salem, and remarks candidly, "You don't seem like a bad person. But are you?" Despite sounding ridiculous, the girl asks this with flat sincerity.

Salem's brows lift above the level of his sunglasses. "What kind of question is that?" he asks her, rather dubiouslty. "If I was, would I admit it?"

"It's a question I'm asking," she replies, simply. "And who knows nowadays, right?" Giving Baron a good scratching of the back, though he seems little reassured by it, she explains, "He in't never been scared of anyone in his life. Till recently. An' only sometimes." Her mouth parts again as though to add more, but she leaves it at that, with a shrug.

Salem considers for a moment, his lips compressed, and then asks, "Who are your 'friends'?" The reserved pleasantness has gone from his voice.

Raven's posture tenses slightly, and she replies a bit warily, "People who take care've me, some of 'em."

Salem's mouth twists into a tight grimace. "Kaz, perhaps? Brittany? Robert?"

Raven's face breaks into mild surprise at the names, and she nods, though her grip on Baron's lead tightens with white knuckles. "Yeh...Kaz. An' Brittany, I'm stayin' at her place." A pause and she asks in a smaller voice, "They're okay, aren't they?"

Salem leans back against the bench, carefully. "As far as I know. So. Whose cousin are you?"

The question elicits a pinching of facial features for a moment before Raven brightens in understanding. "Jarred," she says, then adds a second after in a quieter tone, "I'm Raven Hunter, under the full moon, and a cub."

"Ah," says the Walker, still polite, but cool. "A Shadow Lord." He extends a hand. "Salem, of the Walk. Half."

Raven takes the offered hand and shakes it firmly with contained enthusiasm. "Really? You're the first Walker I've met. I -- " At this opportune moment, the German Shepherd finally makes a break for it, streaking down the park with the lead sailing wildly behind him. "Bloody, foetus-faced hell!" the girl spits, then with a slightly embarrassed smile excuses herself with a, "Got to catch the ol' tosser. Maybe, sometime, you can tell me what it's like t'be a Glass Walker. Always nice to hear what everyone has t'say about everyone else, y'know?" She darts after her dog. "Nice meeting you!" is the last coherent string of words from the girl, followed by cursing that fades as Raven disappears from view.