Impromptu Moot

[hazlogs]

7/21/02

It is currently 17:47 Pacific Time on Sun Jul 21 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 82 degrees
Fahrenheit (27 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
northeast at 10 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.01 and falling,
and the relative humidity is 40 percent. The dewpoint is 56 degrees
Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (79% full).

Location: Jeremy's Apartment


Salem knocks, giving the door two sharp raps.

Quentin had finally relaxed enough to try playing with the entertainment
system, and while others slept and were out had seated himself down in
front of the television and was playing a rousing game of 'State of
Emergency' on the PS2. The sound of gunshots and explosions fills the
apartment. At the knock on the door, he blinks up.. and drops the
controller, pushing to his feet and considering the door dubiously for a
moment before walking over-- he's not sure if he's allowed to open it.
"Hello?" He calls out. Maybe they can hear him out there.

Salem glances up toward where he knows the hidden camera is located, then
leans closer to the door to speak through it. "It's Salem."

Quentin briefly chews on his lower lip, frowning at the door-- and then he
reaches over to flip the lock and open it up to let him in. "C'mon in.
Everyone else is out or asleep," he admits, dropping back a step even
before Salem enters.

Salem glances at his watch, arching a brow, and then nods. "Just you,
then?" His eye sweeps over the front room, noting the game paused on
screen, and then settles on Quentin.

Quentin, for safety's sake, drops back another half-step at the look
towards him. "Yeah," he says near-defensively, "Just me. Why?"

Salem regards the cub for perhaps a moment longer than is comfortable,
then makes a 'hmh' noise. "Nothing wrong with that." He shrugs out of his
jacket and drapes it over the back of a couch before settling into it
himself.

"I guess they figured I wasn't going to go run off or anything," Quentin
says with a near-boneless shrug of one shoulder, backing up to the other
couch and sprawling back onto the seat, admitting, "Nowhere to go anyway."

Salem leans back, steepling his fingers. "I imagine that you find the
thought of fleeing us rather tempting." There's no condemnation in his
voice.

Quentin's lips pull up a bit at one corner, as he replies dryly, "Well,
let's see.. you kidnapped me, broke my hand, forced me into a rigid
hierarchy I have no choice in, erased my life, told me that I'll never
/have/ a life of my own, and oh yeah-- at the end of all of this I might
just end up dead anyway." A glance back to his game, as he says more
quietly, "Yeah, it's tempting."

Salem looks neither surprised at the answer nor particularly angry. In
fact, his nod is almost understanding. "Frankly speaking, if we could have
kept you out of it, we would have. Circumstances, however, do not permit
that choice. There _are_ Garou who run alone, either by choice or by fate
or mishap, and their fate is no easier. It is, in fact, much more
difficult, and these lone wolves -- who we call 'Ronin' -- die much more
quickly." He delivers this in a completely matter of fact tone of voice.

There's a firm series of knocks on the door. Standing outside, John and
Kaz are visible through the peep-hole. Not speaking. Kaz has a box of
donuts with her, as she shifts from leg to leg, trying and failing to get
comfortable.

"Why?" Quentin just sounds frustrated.. frustrated, and hurt as he looks
up with a sullen glare to him, "Just.. why? Nobody's explained why all of
this.. bullshit is necessary, you know? Do this, do that, don't do that.
But /why/?"

Salem is about to answer, then pauses at the knocking. He holds up a
finger. "We'll explain. One moment." The Philodox rises from the couch and
let the other two urrah in. "Hello again, Kaz. John." He inclines his head
to both.

John gives Salem a short nod, and then inclines his head towards Kaz -
taking a half-step back, to allow the woman through first.

Kaz slips in. "I already brung /you/ donuts," she tells Salem, as if
criticizing him. Which means that she hands Quentin the box, and heads
into the kitchen to get a Coke, as if she owned the place.

Salem corrects Kaz, dryly. "You brought me _bagels_. Which, granted, I
prefer."

Quentin's hands lift as he leans over to accept the box, offering a faint
but genuine smile towards her. "Thanks, Kaz.." He leans back, settling the
box into his lap as he looks over towards the other guy who walks into the
apartment for half a moment before the name sinks in. He eyes him for a
moment, before venturing in wary tones, "John.. Smith?"

Kaz looks blankly at Salem. "Right," she says, after a moment. "Them
bagels." She leans against the door into the kitchen, and slowly slides
down into a seat, shooting Quentin a smile as she does so.

Salem folds his arms across his chest, looking from Elder to cub. As tall
as the Philodox is, the Ahroun is not only taller, but even more heavily
scarred.

Scars that jostle each other and move out of the way, as John gives the
boy a thin smile. "Yes. 'Smith'." Stalking smoothly into the apartment and
closing the door behind him, John's ice-blue eyes focus thoughtfully on
Quentin for a while. "And you would be Quentin?"

The apple of the cub's throat rises and falls once, as he tips his head in
a slightly nervous nod back towards John. "Yeah," Quentin says, forcing a
slight smile and curling one hand around his box of donuts, "That's me. I
seem to be famous, everyone's heard of me."

Kaz explains, from the floor, "Salem talks a lot."

Salem drops back into his place on the couch. He snorts, sounding amused
at Kaz's comment.

John breaks into a genuine smile, now that the boy's identity has been
confirmed. He shakes his head at Kaz's comment, with an amused 'hm', and
takes another step towards Quentin. Extending his hand to shake. "That's
because you're 'man of the hour' for the time being, Quentin. A new member
of the Tribe is always an important thing. John Smith - Walks-Thin-Ice.
Cliath Ahroun and Temporary Elder of the St. Claire Glass Walkers, Alpha
of Synthesis. A pleasure to meet you."

Salem nods, adding, "Daisy isn't coming back any time this century. You're
elder, John. Period."

Quentin hesitates for perhaps half a moment, before reaching out to clasp
the offered hand in a grip that's intentionally firmer than he'd usually
use. "You all have ten billion titles after your name?" The question is
spoken a touch ruefully, as he flickers a look towards Kaz and then back
up to John again.

After shooting a vaguely annoyed look towards the other two elder Garou,
John hitches a shoulder in a half-shrug, releasing the boy's hand. "You
only have to say them once. And you'll have it too." He shoots Salem a
look. "Explained what all the names and titles mean, yet?"

"He's had the auspices," Salem says, steepling his fingers. "Kaz went over
the Litany, but not the tribes... not in detail, anyway." He glances over
toward the Bone Gnawer for confirmation.

Kaz says, "I tol' him a buncha what alla them titles mean, yeah. Did my
spiel and explained alla it, though some of it, he sorta decided to absorb
later. I /mentioned/ alla the tribes, but I only really talked 'bout the
Walkers an' Gnawers."

"I couldn't name a single one of them other than those two, though,"
Quentin admits, with an almost apologetic glance shot over towards Kaz,
"It is, um, a lot to remember."

Kaz shrugs. "Hey, I know it better'n anyone. Don' worry about it -- It
comes eventually."

John nods in mild agreement, slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's
all part of this grand new world you've stumbled into," he murmurs wryly.
"You'll get there. For now, you just need to come to terms with what you
are. Which... isn't easy." Another curious glance towards Salem.

"Quentin and I were just discussing that," says the half-moon. "Right
before you and Kaz arrived. I was about to give him the grand picture and
backdrop."

John waves a hand, and turns, to find a seat. "Then don't let me
interrupt," he says smoothly, stalking away.

Quentin glances after John as he moves away, then looks back to Salem
again expectantly..although he does suggest, dryly, "Maybe you should make
a 'Werewolf's Guide To Dummies' to make this easier, huh?"

Kaz puts her elbow on her knee, apparently interested to listen to someone
/else's/ version of the Big Picture.

Salem nods, then turns to Quentin. One eyebrow rises slightly at the
suggestion; he notes, dryly, "Remember that law about the Veil? Nothing
gets written down. Oral tradition's the way." That said, he grows more
solemn. "There is a war going on. It began while humanity was still
learning to chip rocks into more useful rocks, and the outcome of this war
will affect the entire planet, if not all of existence. If you'll forgive
the cliche, it's a war between darkness and light, between life and
corruption, between good and evil." He pauses to let the cub absorb this
-- and probably comment -- before continuing.

"You're right," Quentin says with a slight shake of his head, "That is
kinda cliche. I'm listening, though." He drops quiet again, leaning back
in his sweats and delving into the donut box.

Kaz mulls Salem's adjectives. "Cliche, but accurate," she eventually
decides, and takes another gulp of Coke.

John inclines his head in a nod, as he leans against a wall, next to Kaz.
"We're the 'good guys'," he notes softly, with what might almost be wry
amusement.

Salem spreads his hands slightly. "The world is out of joint, Quentin," he
says. "There are three forces at work in the universe. One we call the
Wyld, a force of change and raw creation. The second we call the Weaver,
which brings form to the energies of the Wyld. Shape. Order. The third is
called the Wyrm, and in the beginning, it acted as balance between the
two. When one grew out of control, the Wyrm would either destroy the
excess, or force the lagging member of the Triat to work harder.
Unfortunately, the Wyrm has long since become corrupted and forgotten its
purpose. Now, it is only a force of destruction and decay. Death without
renewal. It is because of this corruption that we, the Garou, were
created. Our purpose is, bluntly speaking, to protect the earth from the
corruption of the Wyrm."

A knock-knock-knock sounds at the door.

With Kaz on the floor and Salem busy, John pulls himself away from the
wall to answer the door. Seeing Jacob, he puts a finger to his lips, and
gestures for the boy to come in.

Kaz wouldn't answer it anyway. Not her house; hosts answer doors. She
contributes, from the floor, "Like I said, first time I met you,
destruction incarnate."

Quentin's brow furrows just a bit as he listens to those words, before
nodding ever so slightly. "So.. chaos, order, and balance, basically. Just
that balance is nuts and is trying to destroy everything, so, there's a
bunch of werewolves now to pick up his slack and stop him from blowing
everything up?" A glance around, as he tries to see if he's got the
nutshell definition right at least.

Jacob peeks around the door to the Walker version of CIA Headquarters.
"Good afternoon, John-rhya. Is it okay if I come in?" His eyes dart around
the room to Salem and Kaz. He smiles uneasily at both of them.

Kaz nods at Quentin. "'Zactly." Then she's telling Jacob, "Yo, hey."

John gives Jacob a tight smile, and jerks his head back towards inside and
makes the gesture again. "This means... Get in," he murmurs, moving to
close the door. If the cub's too slow...

Jacob dashes in quick and barely escapes the door smackin' his ass.
"Sorry, sir." He smiles at Kaz. "Good to see you again, Kaz-rhya. And you
as well, Mr. Salem, sir."

Salem glances up, giving Jacob a thin, faint smile of welcome before
turning back to Quentin. "...Generally, yes," he says slowly. "Animism is
real, Quentin. The earth is alive, awake, and sentient. We call her Gaia,
the Mother, and She is in pain. Has been, ever since the Wyrm went mad.
You can think of Gaia as the body, the Wyrm as an infection, and we, the
Garou, as Her immune system."

The locks on the door unbolt and turn, soon followed by it opening. Jeremy
heads inside, looking tired, fatigued, if not a bit stressed and twitchy.
He is wearing his work uniform, CompUTronix, carrying a brief case,
haggard. At the sight of everyone, he pauses, glancing about.

Quentin's gaze flickers towards Jacob for a moment, taking him in with a
curious look before returning his full attention once more towards salem
as he continues to speak. He purses his lips for a moment, and then nods
slowly, "Alright. That's a simple enough cosmology, I suppose.. I've read
weirder in books. Straightforwards, at least."

Kaz gives Jeremy an apologetic look. "I brung you a case of Coke," she
says, almost as a peace offering for invading his space.

Salem nods to the arriving kin, somewhat distractedly; most of his
attention's on Quentin now. "There's more. Parallel to the world you know,
_this_ world of flesh and matter, is another of spirit and thought.
They're separated by a thing we call the Gauntlet, a barrier of reality,
you might say. We'll show you how to cross it, because it's as vital a
skill as changing forms." He lifts a finger. "I mention it because it is
in this spirit world, the Umbra, where you'll be best able to interact
with the soul of the world. Corruption is more visible there, too, less
veiled, and the two worlds are linked. What happens in one echoes in the
other. If a forest is felled in the Realm, the real world, the spirits of
those trees die as well. If the spirit of a lake is destroyed or
corrupted, the lake will either dry up or become foul."

John almost mirrors the look of apology from Kaz. Smiling tightly and
keeping his voice low - so as not to interfere with the important lesson -
he adds, "I'll cook dinner for you two before I go, if you just want to
kick back."

Kaz gives John a strange look.

Quentin tips his head just a bit towards Salem, his expression showing
comprehension at that. "Yeah.. Kaz mentioned that Umbra thing. It sounds
kinda like the astral plane that everyone always mumbles about in all
those books and games and stuff. The 'spirit world' where only spirit
stuff lives."

Jacob settles into a chair and, kicking his Birks off, pulls his feet up
under hi, listening to the lesson and getting just as absorbed into it as
he probably should.

Jeremy pauses for a bit, glancing around, then over to Kaz. ".. Um..
Its.... Its ok..." He says, stammering a tad as he takes a deep breath.
Quickly moving past them, through the cloud of rage, he disapears into his
room, closing the door.

Salem nods. "Like that, yes." He looks up as Jeremy passes, a rueful
expression flicking across his face and vanishing before he turns back.
"Any questions or confusion, so far?" A look includes Jacob in this.

Jacob shakes his head. "No, sir. Not yet." He looks over at the new guy
and smiles.

John shakes his head mildly, watching Jeremy, and heads into the kitchen.
It's faint, but there might have been a muttered, "Hope he likes rice
dishes," under the Ahroun's breath.

Quentin slants another look over towards Jacob, his brow furrowing.
"Yeah," he says, "Who's he?"

Salem makes introductions. "Quentin, this is Jacob, another Glass Walker
cub. Jacob, meet Quentin. Jeremy and I collected him a few days or so
ago."

Kaz looks at her Coke thoughtfully, then rises, limping, and heads into
the kitchen. Her main contribution is lots of herbs.

Jacob nods. "Pleased to meet ya, Quentin." He looks back at Salem. "You
mean someone who -doesn't- outrank me? Kick ass!" He beams, then looks
slightly, ever-so-slightly ashamed. "Sir."

Salem makes an amused sound. "You don't have to say 'sir' _all_ the time,
Jacob," he says dryly.

Quentin's lips twitch just a bit at the observation. "Hey. Good to meet
you, I guess.." A look back over towards Salem, then, and he asks with a
furrowed brow, "Why does /he/ get to walk around by himself?"

"Because," says Salem, "he's been with us longer." A simple enough answer.
"You'll be allowed to walk around by yourself too, eventually."

Jacob smiles at Salem. "Yessir, I do." He looks at Quentin with a smirk,
but surprisingly, not a bitchy one. "I can come visit, if they say it's
okay. That way you won't be trapped in here all by yourself until you get
the OK to go wandering." He shrugs. "I've been there, dude. It sucks.
Sucks big. Big unwashed moose whang."

"Oh." Quentin nods just a bit, looking a little more relaxed at the idea
that he won't be locked up in the apartment forever.. though he glances
towards the entertainment center, and the paused game of 'State of
Emergency' in mid-explosion of the city bank, before admitting, "Well.. it
could be worse. Anyway, um, you were saying? Corruption, order, chaos,
mother earth, all that?"

In the kitchen, the tall, heavily-scarred Ahroun doffs coat and jacket,
and those special leather gloves - revealing mutilated hands which he rubs
together. The kitchen is his domain, and he is master of all he surveys...
temporarily derailed by moose whang, he shakes his head and begins
searching the fridge and pantry for ingredients.

Kaz mostly serves as veggie chopper or chef's assistant. She mutters,
"Moose whang? Have to remember that one..."

"And soldiers of light against the dark," says Salem, folding his hands.
"Yes."

"Alright.. so.. that's the whole metaphysical mumbo-jumbo part of it,"
Quentin says, tilting his head back to Salem, "How's that translate into
the flesh-and-blood part?"

Flesh and blood knocks on the door, a few times.

Salem glances up. John and Kaz are in the kitchen. "One moment," he tells
Quentin, and gets up to answer the door, checking the peephole before
opening it.

Rina flashes him a smile. "Room for two more?" Her helmet is /not/ tucked
under her arm, having been loaned to Rhiannon--and as a consequence, her
dark hair is a wild, spiky birds'-nest. She rakes a hand into it; her
other hand holds a bottle of white wine by the neck.

"My god," Salem says, utterly deadpan. "It's a moot." He steps aside to
let the two women enter. "John is in the kitchen with Kaz, fixing dinner.
Quentin and I are discussing cosmology."

Rina's eyes are bright. "Excellent. I can help cook, maybe..." Her grin
turns wry. "Since I'm not real good at explainin' the spiritual crap."

Rhiannon waves to the room at large. Her eyes carry tell-tale signs of
being exhausted, although she's still alert, and has apparently even been
out jogging. She's carrying Rina's helmet, as well.

John - minus coat and jacket, with the addition of a cook's apron (boring,
with blue and white vertical stripes) he somehow managed to acquire, pokes
his head out of the kitchen at the sound of familiar voices. A soft smile
for his fiance, and he wanders back into the kitchen to continue his
pottering. "Gonna have to cook for more, maybe," he murmurs to himself as
he disappears.

Quentin raises one hand in slight greeting towards the two women as they
come in, his lips curving in a faint smile. "Hey. Um, Rhiannon, and.." He
pauses, realizing that he's not quite sure who Rina is. He's seen her, but
he doesn't remember her name.

Salem closes the door behind the two latest arrivals and settles back onto
the couch. The Philodox laces his fingers behind his neck and stretches,
pausing in Garou 101 to let Rina introduce herself.

Kaz, who's got a chopping knife in hand, limps out and brightens faintly
at the two kin. "Yo. Food constructors, atcher service."

Rina grins at the sight of John, and turns her attention to the kid; she
crosses the room with authoritative stops, holding out a hand to the boy.
She still wears her motorcycle gloves, thin black leather, unpadded for
the summer. Her smile is criminal. "Hey. Saright, I din't get your name
either, I don't think. Sorry if the other night scared ya... we try ta
make it as easy as we can." Her grip is firm, strong. "I'm Rina. Ah,
Kinfolk--did they tellya about that yet?"

Rhiannon walks over to the kitchen and and catches John's eye. "I have
stuff to talk to you, Salem, and Rina about," she says in a low voice,
sounding as tired as she looks. She turns to Kaz, and continues with, "I
also heard back from LA about the IDs. No joy." This news is accompanied
by a grimace.

Quentin's upraised hand reaches out to clasp the offered hand with a firm
enough grip, offering a faint and wry smile at the words about the other
night.. although there's a flicker of darkness behind his eyes and a
subtle tension in the touch of his hand when it's mentioned. "It's
alright," he says quietly, shaking his head, "I'm Quentin. And yeah, they
did."

Jeremy peers out of his bedroom once he opens up the door, seeing two new
arrivals to the room. He lets out a breath, swallows, then heads out,
having calmed his nerves a tad.

Kaz sighs. "Didn't expect nothin', really, but... thanks f'tryin'. I'll
keep pokin' at my shit."

John pauses by the entrance to the kitchen, to arch an eyebrow at
Rhiannon. Though Rina and QUentin's interaction gets a glance.

Rina nods minutely. "Well. Okay. I'm kin, and I kinda run the, ah,
'business' side of things, along with John. I do street stuff, he does
Garou stuff. Nice to meetcha, Quentin. You need anything... feel free
t'ask any of us. Here ta help." Her smile is chamring and crooked, one
corner of her mouth quirking upward more than the other.

"In another month or two I can maybe try sending out to a few other
states, but it'll have to wait. That kind of request has to get
authorized, and then I'll need to have an actual reason." Rhiannon smiles
ruefully at the thought of having the resources at her fingertips, but not
the means to use them. Jeremy's entrance earns a real smile, though, and a
tilt of her head. "Jeremy."

Salem relaxes from his stretch and folds his arms across his chest. He
adds to Quentin, "Rina is John's fiance, and has been in town longer than
any of us, including myself."

Quentin lets his hand drop back down to his knee, as he tips his head in
an understanding nod back to Rina - a glance at Salem's explaination - and
then a slight smile offered back up as a pale shadow of her own. "Thanks.
I'm still in Werewolf School, but if I think of anything."

Jeremy nods his head over towards the Garou, lifting a hand, wiggling her
fingers slightly.

Rina glances over to Salem, offering him a grin. "Well. Not longer than
/everybody/... " She gives Quentin a quick, wry half-smile. "Sometimes it
gets hard t'be around the other Garou. All that rage, the violence... if
you have trouble, y'need someone not so dangerous to talk to, you just
call. A'ight?"

Rhiannon enlightens John with part of the tale. "Dylan was arraigned.
Hundred thousand bail, Dad posted it within an hour. He's not supposed to
be considered a flight risk--" the mingled contempt and sarcasm in
Rhiannon's voice indicates just how much she agrees with *that*--"and his
trial starts next week."

John simply snorts with contempt and heads back into the kitchen. He knows
how this works...

Kaz looks from Rhiannon to John in confusion. "Why do we give a shit about
a bad rock musician?"

Salem corrects himself. "_Almost_ everyone, then." He turns to Quentin.
"You were asking about flesh and blood."

Quentin's head bobs again in a quick and briefly grateful nod, before he's
drawn back to regard the scarred form of Salem. "Yeah," he says simply,
"The, you know, actual stuff." A pause, "Well, that wasn't the best way to
say it, but.. you know what I mean."

Rina attention is diverted, sharply, to the kitchen; she carries the
bottle in that direction, setting it in the fridge to chill. And letting
someone else answer.

Rhiannon manages a laugh. "This is something else," she tells Kaz. "Drug
dealer was killed and Rina was framed. It gets more complicated from
there."

Kaz blinks. "Well. /That/ ain't no good. Complicated how? I mean, you can
tell me to butt out, if you want, but..."

Salem leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "As I said, the
Umbra, or spirit world, is linked to the Realm, or flesh world, and what
happens in one effects the other. The enemy works in both. So, we fight in
both."

"We think he's dirty," John grunts, as he continues to raid the pantry.
With Rina here, it looks like pasta.

Quentin flickers a look over towards the conversation about the drug
dealer and Rina, a frown furrowing his brow.. then he drags his attention
back to Salem. Sooner he figures all this out, sooner he knows what's
going on. "Okay.. so.. if you burn down a building in one, it burns down
in the other, like that?"

Salem considers. "Not quite. But if the building's spiritual essense is
strong enough to be reflected in the Umbra, then if one is destroyed, the
other will sicken and die as well. That may include burning, or it simply
may fade or fall apart, depending on whether the survivor was spirit or
matter."

Kaz asks, "'Dirty' in what sense?"

"John would have to have the say on giving out details," Rhiannon
explains. "It's looking like a mob-thing." That's as far as she's willing
to go without John's say-so.

John simply grunts again. "She's free to know it all. Doesn't seem Wyrmy,
so it looks like it's just our problem."

Kaz says, "Fuckin' marvelous. Y'all need help, just holler, obviously."

Quentin gnaws a bit on his lower lip, a nervous and thoughtful habit of
his, as he considers those words. "Okay.. so.. it's not a direct
relationship, but sort of a.. sympathetic one, instead."

Rina shoots a quick glance at Kaz, and a smile. "Thanks. Ditto," she adds,
before sliding an arm around John's waist and looking up at him.

With the engaged couple distracted in the kitchen, John soon becomes
temporarily incapable of answering any more questions as he leans down to
say 'hello'. Rather enthusiastically.

Rhiannon rubs her temples. "From the beginning. Drug dealer is killed.
Rina is identified by his fiance as having been there before the murder.
Rina has an alibi, and is arraigned and let go. Anonymous tip comes in,
fingering one Dylan Seagrave. Cops execute warrant, and find the murder
weapon and the key he was given by the fiance that framed Rina. Turns out
Seagrave is a drug dealer, although higher end than the victim, and his
daddy is a Salt Lake City lawyer for--yes, you guessed it, the mob."

Salem nods to the cub. "Sympathic, yes." He glances at his watch, then
gets up. "Excuse me a moment. I have to go make a call." He tugs his
cellphone out of his jacket and vanishes into one of the back rooms.

Kaz shoots a look at John and Rina, mutters, "Get a room." Then she
realizes, "Oh, wait, you /got/ a room. Nevermind." She nods at Rhiannon,
and sighs. "Like I said. Fuckin' grand."

Rina steps up beside John, and insinuates herself under one of his arms.
"Caro mio," she murmurs, tugging on his shirt. "Dammi?" That's about as
far as they get, at least in verbal terms; the kitchen becomes... a bit
quiet, after that. She probably doesn't even /hear/ the Bone Gnawer.

Rhiannon hmmphs in agreement. She continues with, "The DA's case
is...okay. They've got the gun, they've got the key, and the fiance rolled
on Seagrave. They've got the money Seagrave gave her. Unfortunately, they
don't have proof beyond the fiance's word that the money was ever his,
which of course means they've got no motive, and she's no shining example
of a witness. Naturally Dylan has refused to turn in anyone."

Kaz says, with polite irony, "Naturally."

Cooking is neglected for a while, as John and Rina engage in the sort of
kiss that suggests that a room (a bit more private than the kitchen) might
be a good idea indeed.

Rina ends up embracing John with some enthusiasm, turning his backside to
the edge of the counter and pressing her own body close. She loses herself
in the kiss, her head tipped back to let the taller man lean over her.
Perhaps it's fortunate that the kitchen counters hide them from the waist
down, at that.

Seeing that John and Rina are otherwise...occupied, Rhiannon turns to
Quentin. "So, how's it going?" she asks. "They getting you up to speed?"

Kaz shakes her head faintly at Rhiannon, and then detours through the
kitchen to grab some chocolate. Muttering, "Nice show," she limps over to
Quentin, and lowers herself onto the other side of the couch.

Quentin tips his head just a bit as he looks towards the kitchen, and as
he catches sight of the pair a slight flush burns its way across his
cheeks.. and he clears his throat, head snapping up as Rhiannon talks to
him. "What, huh-- oh. Um, yeah, I guess so. They've been explaining
everything, a little at a time.."

Kaz breaks the chocolate in three, and offers some to Quentin and
Rhiannon. "So, like, yeah, Salem was talkin' about the physical
manifestation of shit, right?"

Rhiannon nods at the cub, and settles herself onto the other couch.
"That's good. If you're lucky they'll take you out to the Farmhouse. A
little more secluded than this, and there'll be other Garou there." She
remembers her most recent trip, and adds, "Other...interesting Garou."

Quentin reaches over to accept the piece of chocolate, glad for some
distraction again as his blush ever so slowly begins to fade again. "Yeah,
the.. application rather than theory. So to speak." A glance to Rhiannon,
and he blinks, "Interesting?"

Rina's hands are nowhere in sight, at least from the living room. That's
probably a good thing. She murmurs something to John, but the words aren't
audible--only the low, intimate tone of voice.

Kaz says, "Yeah, I heard the place was untouched by them Dancers. Anyways.
What we fight. Well. It varies. The thing is, some of what we fight is
shit like polluters bein' morons, some of what we fight is abusive
husbands an' wives, an' some of what we fight are the physical
manifestation of perverted, corrupted destruction, and are pretty fuckin'
disgustin'. So, y'know, it's a smorgasbord."

"Well, you've only met folks from--what, two Tribes? There's ten others."
Rhiannon doesn't get any more detailed than that, and instead sits deeper
into the couch and shuts her eyes.

Quentin tilts his head a little to the side, "Dancers? And oh.." He
frowns, "That must make things complicated."

Kaz sighs, tightly, that accent fading again, "There are Garou who have
gone to the Wyrm, who have embraced corruption and destruction. They are
called Black Spiral Dancers. And they are what took our Caern, for the
time we did not have it. They are what almost destroyed it, and they are
what our companions gave their lives to defeat."

Rina laughs, low and soft. She makes a little scolding 'tsk, tsk' and
slides away from John, to check on the boiling of the water. "You found
some pasta, yeah?" The two of them continue to make domestic noises in the
kitchen, for quite a while; after a few minutes there are sizzling noises,
and the smell of garlic starts drifting out. "Hey, nobody's a vegetarian
or allergic to garlic or nothin', right?" Rina calls out.

Rhiannon opens her eyes, and her exhaustion slips away long enough for her
to tell Quentin, "They've got Kin, too. So, don't go thinking all Garou
Kin are okay. I've had run-ins, and I'm lucky to be alive." There's no
love lost in her voice when she says this, but her tone warms as she
answers Rina, "Fine with my, hermanita."

Salem returns from the back, expression tighter than it was earlier. "Not
recently," he says in response to Rina's call, and drops his cellphone
unceremoniously onto his folded jacket.

Rina's brow furrows, and she pulls away from John's arm a touch.
"Everything okay, Jack?"

John goes from being master chef, to assistant, as the couple move about
the kitchen. Picking up tasks silently as Rina checks with the others.

Kaz shakes off her precise tone of voice, and calls, "I could /bathe/ in
garlic an' be happy about it, s'go for it."

Quentin purses his lips for a moment, before nodding slowly to Kaz. "The
bad guys," he says, doesn't ask. It's a rhetorical statement, really.

Salem waves a hand in Rina's direction, dismissing his own mild downturn
of mood. "Nothing important." He settles back down on the couch.

Kaz says, "That would be a yes."

Rina turns from the frying garlic and onion for a moment, her attention
sharpening. There is something in her eyes, a grim look as she watches
them talk.

Rhiannon remembers her own encounter, and mutters, "And how."

Quentin drums his fingers over his knee for a moment, gaze considering hte
expressions of Kaz and Rhiannon for a long time before he asks softly,
"How can you.. tell the difference?"

Rina strips off her jacket, coming out to hang it on one of the chairs;
that reveals a double shoulder rig, two holsters holding handguns. She
sets that in the chair; her face is turned from them, as she says, softly,
"You can't."

Kaz shakes her head, slightly. "Or, anyway, not reliably. Sometimes, they
act different, sometimes, they attack anythign that moves, sometimes,
they're just normal, fucked up people. Now, me, I can scent people that's
strongly affected by the Wyrm -- it's a Gift I got, from Gaia -- but most
people can't."

Quentin glances back over towards Rina at her soft words, and his eyes
widen a bit at the sight of the guns. No comment, though, as Kaz draws his
attention and a slight frown once more. "A gift? What, like a Wyrm-O-Meter
you carry around?"

"More like a... power. A knack. And even then," adds Salem, "you have to
be careful. The power that Kaz speaks of will not always pinpoint where
the smell of Wyrm is coming from, just that it's there."

John simply puncuates Rina's answer with grim silence for a time -
listening to Kaz. And then he rumbels, "I perform a ritual which is less
reliable, but serves as something of a warning, too. The sun shine very
brightly on the Wyrm, to my eyes. /If/ I am in the proper state of mind to
see it."

Rina returns to the kitchen, to stir up the saute pan. "Yeah, well. Those
of us without the furry gene-mark don't get shit, what can I say." Half
light and half bitter, that voice holds something: a secret, perhaps.

"Gift," Kaz says, capitals practically audible. "Gaia gives 'em to us,
see. Some of them are more... useful than others. The Wyrm sensin' one,
like he said, is only /sometimes/ useful, 'cause especially in the city
there's a /fuck/ of a lot of Wyrm. But there's others, more visual
ones..." She pauses for a moment, and then, in her hand, is a small
fireball. She drops it quickly, and a small splash of water follows it,
snuffing it before it even reaches the ground.

Rhiannon simply nods in agreement with everyone else. "The Spiral Kin I've
known were usually fucked up in the head somehow. Broadbent was a
sociopath. Aside from that, though, it's not like they carry ID cards. 'I
am Black Spiral Dancer Kin', nothing like that."

Rhiannon also watches Kaz's small display curiously, but soon sits back
and shuts her eyes again

Salem lifts a brow at Kaz's demonstration. "Show off," he murmurs, not at
all nastily.

Quentin's gaze flickers back over towards Rina as she calls out that
bitter-touched comment, and he replies in quiet but clearly audible tones
to it. "Yes you do. You get to have a life." A shift of his position, one
leg curling under him as he gets more comfortable to listen to Kaz's
lesson-- and then blinks, at the fireball. Blinks again, at the splash of
water. Ground, Kaz, ground, Kaz, and he asks in startled tones, "How'd you
/do/ that?"

John pauses in his task to put arms around Rina for a moment and murmur
something reassuring softly by her ear. He gives a soft kiss, before
continuing to prepare food. Though the fireball draws a concerned look.
"Don't do that," he snaps grumpily. Then amends, more politely, "Please."

Kaz looks at John as if he just stomped on a kitten. "But I put it out..."
She shoots a grin at Quentin, watching his incredulousness with barely
restrained glee. "It's magic," she says, simply. "You can do shit like
this, eventually, although you don' wanna be learnin' this one."

Rina leans back into John, hidden from view by the tall man's body. She
closes her eyes and takes a deep breath or two--and then returns to her
cooking, muttering, "Tomato cream or carbonara? Tomato cream." Milk is
fetched from the fridge, and some canned tomato from the pantry. There are
odd noises as she dumps things into the frying pan.

Rhiannon takes a deep breath, smelling the food, and smiles to herself.

Quentin's green eyes are actually sparkling with a hint of wonder that's
broken through the wariness and fear, as he looks back down to the wet
spot on the floor. "You mean we can do more stuff than just turn into
giant wolves?"

"Mother gives many gifts," says Salem dryly, his glance shifting back
toward the kitchen.

John, while Rina works on the sauce, focusses on the pasta. "Half an hour
or less," he notes, for the benefit of the world in general.

Rhiannon opens one eye and grins at Quentin. "Yes. You can turn into a
small wolf too," she reveals, then closes her eye once more.

Kaz says, quietly, to that sparkle, "/Oh/ yes. There are some of us who
can heal terrible wounds, and some of us who can speak to spirits, and
some, like me, who can speak to and understand animals, or build new
realities in your mind. It's... a whole new world."

The apartment begins to smell like an Italian restaurant. "Less," Rina
says, glancing over her shoulder to the others. "It'll only be maybe ten
minutes for the pasta... didja set a timer, hon?" The domesticity verges
upon sickening, in there.

Quentin smirks - actually smirks, and not in a derisive way - over towards
Rhiannon at her words, before looking back over to Kaz with a thoughtful
nod. A moment of silence, and he laughs aloud, "Well, hell. I suppose that
puts this whole 'Gaia' thing one up on all the religions people've tried
to sell me before -- you can actually /do/ shit."

John shakes his head slightly, as he finally rests back on the counter,
just watching Rina cook. "Don't need to," he murmurs. The conversation
receives half an ear. Gifts... He turns and looks at Quentin. "One
problem, though. You'll hear the whispers of our 'goddess', and you'll see
her work and her heartbeat everywhere... and she'll touch you every now
and then, but you'll never know her. S'something you'll wanna get used to
the idea of. She can't save you. Only you can."

Kaz says, "We can indeed. And, well, we have more of a connection to
divinity than most I could name..."

Salem gives his pack alpha a rather odd, frowning look, then adds, "She
gives us what power she can. But it's not Her job to save us. It's ours to
save _Her_."

Quentin's head tilts to one side, as he looks back over to John with a
slightly upraised brow. To those words of deep wisdom, he replies dryly,
"Well.. yeah. There are no quick fixes. There's no happy ending unless you
make it. Even I know that."

John smiles tightly. "I've met those who've had problems with the idea.
It's tempting to blame Christianity for those."

Rhiannon sits up a little. "It's tempting to blame anyone but yourself,"
she adds quietly.

Rina tosses the tomato sauce and cream and garlic, and says nothing.

John turns his back again and just watches the sauce. And Rina.

Kaz shrugs vaguely.

Salem laces his fingers together and regards Quentin. "So. Does this make
things a little more understandable?"

"Is there any bread, caro?" Rina murmurs. "We could pop it in the oven for
a few." Her attention is focused on cooking.

The Ahroun mumbles back something about not seeing anything except large
sliced loafs, and maybe wanting to put a garlic paste on it anyway.

"I think so," Quentin says with a slight blink, looking a bit stunned
again as his brain tries to process all this information, "I guess.. it'll
all sink in in time."

Salem nods, his gaze intent on the cub. "It will. But if you begin to feel
like you're out of your depth, let us know. We may occasionally be harsh,
but more than anything, we want you to succeed."

John rumbles, "It's not all spirits and mysticism and righteous battles
for good, Quentin." He straightens, turning again. "First thing you learn,
and need to learn, is to control our curse. That thing you feel when
growing up, and that stays with you, where you can taste it and draw upon
it, /forever/ after you've shifted for the first time. The Rage." His eyes
flick to Salem. "And I'd suggest that since you're living here now... you
learn as much about these things from Jeremy, as you can. Our perspective
will be much the same as what you will come to know, but his
perspective... is invaluable."

Now that the kitchen is not a fascinating minefield, Kaz goes to fetch
another Coke.

Quentin runs the tip of his tongue lightly over his lips, nodding in a
quick, curt acknowledgement to Salem.. and then he turns to listen to
John's words attentively, frowning just a bit. "Yeah. He.. told me about
this 'curse' a bit, although not much."

"And there's food," Rina adds, creating a rattle of stylish dishware as
she gets down shallow bowls.

"And I live in the other building in this complex," Rhiannon says to
Quentin. "Jacob and Francisco are with sometimes, too. I think Jeremy's
neighbor is Kin as well." She smiles slyly. "We're all over."

Kaz blinks at Rhiannon, as she re-energes with her Coke. "Wait, yeah?
Who's this?"

John turns and murmurs, "Vicki lives in this building," as he moves to
help Rina. A little more lowly he grunts, "Though she should've moved out
a long time ago..."

Rhiannon points at one wall. "A teacher, or maybe just a TA, at the
campus. He's mentioned him vaguely, and I'll admit to not remembering the
name. But Jeremy can tell ya."

Salem looks at Quentin. "Do you remember when I broke your little finger,
and then threatened to break your ring finger as well? Do you remember the
pain, the fear, and then finally, the anger? The anger like a heat behind
your eyes, like a heartbeat pounding in your skull, like a rising tide of
blood and a screaming desire to do nothing but _kill_?"

Kaz says, with a riveted sort of air, "Well. Yeah. I'll poke Jer', then."

Salem delivers this little speech in an utterly calm, utterly bland tone
of voice, by the way.

Rhiannon glances at Salem, curious, as she missed Quentin's initiation all
together.

Quentin's breath catches briefly at the reminder, his left hand curling
into a fist and drawing unconsciously back out of sight against the
pillows of the cushion. "Yes," he says curtly, a hint of that anger - but
only a hint - shining in the green shades of his eyes as he looks at
Salem, "I do."

John ducks his head at Salem's speech, and wanders back over to his fiance
to inspect her sauce.

"Well, I hope Rage makes you guys hungry," Rina calls out. "We got a
shitload of pasta here. Come and get it, cause I'm not gonna serve your
ass."

"That's rage," says the Philodox, his voice still quite calm. "And
non-Garou, even kinfolk, can sense it, and sometimes, it makes them...
uneasy." That said, he unfolds himself from the couch and starts toward
the kitchen.

Rhiannon levers herself from the couch, stretching as she makes her way to
the kitchen. She secures a drink first--a Coke from the fridge--and allows
some of the others to go before her, leaning against the counter in the
mean time.

"Oh." Quentin's gaze slants back over towards the door to Jeremy's
bedroom, a slight frown on his lips, before he pushes himself in an
awkward rise to his bare feet and pads along a few strides after Salem in
search of pasta.

Kaz actually hangs back a few moments, to let growing teenagers snarf
food, before she brings her Coke over to get some.

Rina sets out bowls and forks and spoons and pasta, setting a spoon in the
pan of tomato-cream sauce. "There's bread and stuff, too," she murmurs,
waving a hand at the pan of garlic toast John's taken from the oven.

Rhiannon returns to the couch with her food and a generous supply of paper
towels (don't want to get food on the leather). She sits down carefully,
and begins with some of the garlic toast, dipping it in the sauce. "Mmmmm.
Excellent. My compliments to the chefs," she says after swallowing a
mouthful.

John takes off the oven mitt after depositing the tasty bread on the
counter, and then slinks behind Rina for a moment to lean down and murmur
into her ear a little. He looks up, judging the amount of food and the
number of guests.

Rina doesn't look to be eating, having nibbled her way through bread, a
glass of wine, and a sampled bite or two of the pasta and sauce during her
cooking. She closes her eyes for a moment, leaning against John. Then she
straightens, taking a deep breath and going over to retrieve holstered
firearms and street armor from the table. "Well." Everyone seems to be
eating, and the smile she gives seems to indicate that she is satisfied
with a job well done. "I think we're gonna jet. Hate to cook and run, but
I'm not hungry anyway."

Salem actually only snags for himself a piece of garlic bread, giving Rina
a thin, faint, apologetic smile. "I need to be going."

Rhiannon eyes all those leaving. "Fine by me. More for us." She glances at
Quentin, then takes another bite of pasta."

John simply follows Rina's lead. There's perhaps a subtle suggestion of a
dog following its mistress, in those gestures. Should anyone dare to think
it.

"I'll do the dishes," Kaz tells Rina, and adds, to all three of them,
"Catch you later."

Quentin makes his way along back into the living room, plate loaded high
with pasta balanced in one hand and a coke in the other. At the farewells,
he glances over with a hint of surprise, "Oh.. um. Take care, I guess.
Thanks for, uh.." He sits down heavily, "Talking to me."

Rina flashes Salem a smile. "No big. I know how much you hate my food." It
seems to be a joke, maybe, between them. "Take care, kiddo," she tells
Quentin. Then she is retrieving her black helmet and pulling on her
gloves, gearing up to leave/

Salem heads back to collect his coat and cellphone, gripping the piece of
garlic toaste in his teeth as he shrugs into the former. Garment donned,
he bites down, chews, and swallows, then nods toward Quentin. "Practice
shapeshifting. Beware tearing clothes... for now. We'll take care of that
tomorrow, perhaps." He makes an amused noise at Rina's joke.

Francisco knocks, blissfully unaware that he's about to be trampled over
by half the tribe.

Quentin's brows draw together slightly at the request, looking a touch
troubled as he frowns down at the pasta. "I only did it once," he
comments, admitting, "Hell if I know /how/ I did it.."

John simply smiles tightly at Quentin again. "Nice meeting you." Slipping
his coat back on, the Ahroun flips a lazy salute towards the others and
opens the door at almost exactly the same time as Frankie knocks. And then
stands there, momentarily surprised. "Hi."

Rina glances to the door, tensing slightly. A sharp look comes to her
eyes, and then relief as John opens the door. "Yo, Frankie. There's
linguine. We're just leavin'."

The door to the bedroom creeps open, Jeremy finally revealing himself
again after possibly taking a nap, or finishing up some homework. Maybe he
needed a break from the rage. Whatever it is, he's back, rubbing at his
eyes.

Francisco blinks back. "Hi. Food?" He looks cleaner than he has in weeks,
but no more well-rested or, for that matter, fed.

Kaz hasn't actually started washing dishes yet. "Well. I can give you
tips, Q. Yo, Jer', come an' eat." She gives Francisco a nods. "Home made,
even."

"Food," confirms Salem to the other halfmoon. He exits.

Rhiannon glances up at the knock, and upon seeing Francisco she can't hold
back a warm smile. "Well. Hail the treehugging hero," she says happily.
Her lap covered with a well-laden plate of food, she doesn't stand, but
she does wave to the newly-arrived Philodox.