It is currently 08:07 Pacific Time on Sat Aug 3 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 45
degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The
barometric pressure reading is 30.06 and steady, and the relative humidity
is 100 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (36% full).


Saturday morning. Salem's been awake for hours, the early-bird bastard.
The Yugo's more sluggish than its lycanthropic owner, but it's behaving
itself today. He picks up Alicia and Leala without incident and makes his
way to the outskirts of the city to the bus stop. Like bus stops
everywhere, it's in one of the worst parts of town.

Half an hour late, a Greyhound bus that's seen better days pulls in, and
like people hypnotized, passengers slowly disembark while an equally
lethargic team of bus depot staff unloads the bus. They seem to wake up a
little as an Asian teenager steps off the bus last, and give her plenty of
room. Lyra gets her bags, one large rolling suitcase and a bright green
duffel bag, out and stands off to the side a bit, looking for a familiar
face.

With a pair of headphones over her ears, Alicia bobs, riding shot gun in
the 'Yugo', arm hanging out the window as she sings along. "For twenty
days I've been lost in cyberspace, I surfed through the web to catch up
with the trace, cuz' I wonder, who you really are. I only caught a hasty
screenshot of your smile. You told me all your hotspots, you really make
me wonder. Do you know who I am? Breaaaathe me, its so exciting, I only
wanna know if you're for real." Here comes the chorus. "Damn I think I
love you! I think I really love you. Yaaaaah. If you mean what you say but
don't say what you mean ain't true. I think I really love you." Her voice
rings out in that typical popstarish manner, windswept red and black bangs
filtering over her features.

Leala grumbles to herself as she peers down at a small device she's hold
in her right hand. She punches little buttons with her left hand, and
frowns, lost in the apparent pain that she's suffering. Another couple
button presses reveal an even more pained expression. She sighs, and
closes her eyes, leaning back against the fairly uncomfortable back seat.

The three members of Synthesis reach the bus stop about the same time as
Lyra's Greyhound. Salem, at least, is easy to spot. He scans the crowd of
disembarking passengers, arms folded across his chest.

Lyra looks happy to be home, albeit a bit blurry eyed. She blinks and
looks around when she hears someone singing loudly, their voice easily
distinguished in the sluggish atmosphere of the depot. Then the Philocub
spots Salem. Breaking out into a grin, Lyra tugs her bags behind her as
she trots to the Walker. "Mr. Salem!"

Alicia is standing besides Salem, thumbs hooked into her belt loops,
trench coat dancing about her in the breeze. She continues to hum along
with the headphones, her body dancing from side to side slightly. "Hey
Lyra!" She says overly loud, then blushes, taking off the headset.

Salem turning sharply at the sound of his name, the Walker Phildox spots
Lyra readily enough and heads her way with long strides. The crowd parts
before him as he moves to intercept the cub and take up that suitcase.
"Welcome back," he says. "Have a good trip?"

Leala doesn't bother to disembark from the vehicle, as she's wedged pretty
tightly into the back seat. She just peers out the window towards Salem,
Alicia and the unknown girl.

Lyra nods emphatically, adding "Thank you" when the Philodox takes her
bag. "I learned so many things, and New York- it's incredible. Like a
double edged sword." Then she beams at Alicia, quickly weaving her way
through a few passengers like a whirlwind to hug the Gaian, green duffel
bag falling to the ground. She doesn't notice Leala, not knowing what
Salem's car looks like.

Alicia wraps the Gnawer up in her arms and gives her a strong hug.
"Heeeey." She says with a grin, ruffling up her hair a bit. "Didja have
fun?"

Salem's car is small, boxy, and a really ugly shade of dull orange. He
goes around to the back to open the trunk -- which is completely empty --
in order to stow the Gnawer's bags. There's just about enough room, mostly
because the duffle bag is somewhat squishable.

Leala fidgets in the back seat. She looks like she might either be getting
claustrophobic or that this bus station is giving her the willies.

Lyra smiles shyly, not minding as her hair gets mussed- she already had a
bedhead. "Mmhm," she chirps brightly. "Some of the cubs took me to Coney
Island last Saturday. And I learned how to get to the Umbra, and not to
annoy spirits." She pauses for a moment, then laughs. "It's nice to be
home, though."

[Lyra]

At sixteen, this girl is a slim 5' 3", shorter than most of her Caucasian
classmates yet taller than most of her Asian relatives. Her eyes are
almond-shaped and slightly slanted, set above high cheekbones. They are a
shifting-hazel color instead of black or dark brown, often changing to
dark amber or green with her emotions. Her hair is raven black, falling
past her shoulders when she lets it down, and her bangs have grown out in
the months after her cubnapping. Her skin is a shade lighter than the
girls who work at the Chinese Restaurant. The Gnawer cub's not very
strong, but she's flexible and acrobatic, the product of four years of
dance class and almost one year of judo. When she walks it's graceful;
when she talks it's in perfect, if slightly Brit-accented English (or
Mandarin). ...Lyra is a product of the Chinese/British culture that raged
in the 1980's.

         Lyra managed to get another set of clothes Dedicated. Now she's
wearing vintage olive-green corderoy flares, courtesy of Salvation Army, a
tan, long sleeved shirt, and a blue zip-up hooded sweatshirt complete with
bunny ears.


Salem grunts, a final shove firmly wedging Lyra's duffle bag into the
trunk. The car, with Leala in it, actually rocks. Then he slams the trunk
shut and brushes off his hands. "I'm certain that Adrian will be pleased
to see you," he notes, as he comes back around toward where Alicia and
Lyra are standing.

Alicia smiles to the cub. "Awesome. I'm glad you had fun." She gives her a
nudge. "You want shot gun or do you wanna be packed behind Salem?"

Leala looks relieved that people seem to be ready to depart, and scoots
over as far as possible to make room for someone next to her. She remains
pretty quiet though, still kind of distracted by whatever was bothering
her earlier.

Lyra smiles up at Salem. "I hope he got some work for the Cub Pack done
while I was gone. Did he ever find his pants?" The Gnawer flips her hood
up and slips her hands in her pockets, wishing for a moment she was back
in warm NYC. Alicia's question interrupts such fruitless thinking. "Shot
gun?" Lyra peeks behind Salem to look at the Yugo. She blinks, noticing
Leala finally. "Er, well, I'm smaller, perhaps I should sit in the back."

"Alright, thats cool with me." Alcia says as she climbs into the front
seat, flopping down comfortably. She pulls her trench coat tail in and
tucks it under her legs, buckling up.

"Better get behind the driver's side, then," Salem says, opening the door
for the petite teenager. The driver's seat is pushed back about as far as
it will go; six-foot-plus Garou combined with sub-combat European-made
automobiles don't really mix well. "Where should we drop you off?"

"Thank you," Lyra says to Salem as she climbs into the back of the car,
smiling uncertainly at Leala, even giving her a tiny wave. "Oh, drop off-
at the shop I suppose. Unless there's somewhere I should be?"

Alicia rolls her shoulders a bit as she leans back, stiffling a yawn. "Not
that I'm aware of. Could drop ya off at the shop and see if you can get in
touch with Kaz."

Salem climbs in himself, buckles up, and starts the engine. The Yugo fires
to life reluctantly. "Kaz is away, or so I heard." He pulls out of the bus
stop and heads back onto the streets of St. Claire, driving with a
narrow-eyed concentration. "And I've no idea as to the status of Adrian's
pants."

Leala smiles back at the young girl, waiting until all the discussion
about where they are headed has finished before introducing herself.
"Leala Marx, nice to meet you."

Lyra covers her mouth with one hand to hide her chuckle at Salem's answer,
then glances at the strange woman sitting next to her. "Lyra Tobias,
pleased to make your acquaintance," she replies, smiling. Her glance goes
to Alicia and Salem briefly. "Philodox Cub of the Bone Gnawers."

Alicia twists her head about to peer at Lyra. "She's one of our pack
mates." She gives off a wry grin.

"Did you get to attend a moot there, Lyra?" Salem asks, a good ninety-five
percent of his attention still on the road. He mutters something
vicious-sounding in Serbian as an SUV carelessly cuts the smaller vehicle
off.

Leala checks her seatbelt, and mutters something to herself under her
breath.

Lyra nods to Alicia in an "Oh, I get it!" sort of way. She places one hand
against the window for balance as the car lurches a bit. "Um, a moot? Yes,
a Philodox moot. I got there late though, so I didn't see all of it."

Salem grunts. "We're about due for one of those," he says. "I don't think
there's been one since Adam organized it." He purses his lips slightly,
thoughtful.

Leala finally speaks up. "So, where did you just get back from?"

Gingerly Lyra takes her hand off the window. "Oh, New York City. The Sept
of the Green. Mama Kaz thought I need a little away from home
training...since the Caern isn't quite up to par," she adds quickly. "Or
at least, it wasn't a few weeks ago. Did all the water go away?"

Salem answers. "The water's gone, and most, _most_ of the traps have been
cleared, as well as the graffiti. During the Sept moot, Andrea and Sepdet
managed to invoke the Wyld spirit strongly enough that it made grass grow
spontaneously in the caern, and Robert loosed a pair of, erm, special
worms to help renew the soil. Francisco's trees are doing well, too."

Leala says, "Ah, New York. I lived there myself for a few years."

Lyra blinks, envisioning walking inside the Caern as grass suddenly
bloomed under your feet. Huh. "It's an -amazing- city," the cub tells
Leala, the awe of what she'd seen not dulled by three days of solid bus
rides. "I met so many Garou, especially Gnawers and Walkers."

"Any vampires?" asks Salem, glancing at Lyra via the rearview mirror. If
there's humor in the remark, it's utterly deadpan.

Leala snorts softly, amused by the cub's awe-struck response. "It's just
another city, one rife with corruption and usery. At least here, people
/seem/ to care."

"No," Lyra grumbles, frowning a bit. "Pigeons." She says it as if pigeons
were more feared than vampires. She digs through her sweatshirt pocket,
looking for a hairtie. "Oh, it's corrupt, quite, I'll give you that. But
people there do care." Lyra blushes a bit as she starts tugging her mess
of hair into a ponytail. "Especially after September 11th. And the Garou,
or at least the Gnawers...they're like a small army of people looking out
for the homeless. We helped take an abandoned infant to a hospital."

Salem merely grunts. He's gotten further into downtown, where traffic is
thicker despite the fact it's a weekend morning, and focusses entirely on
navigation.

"I sincerely doubt that the people I worked with would have any concern
for the homeless or an abandoned infant." Leala shrugs and looks out the
window, her eyes narrowed. "I guess some Walkers are different than
others."

Lyra bites her lower lip, watching Leala. "Well, people are different,"
she agrees quietly. She leans back into the seat, watching Salem's arm
move as he drives. "Like Renee. She doesn't think too much of humans,
really. But Mama Kaz said once the Gnawers look out for the people in the
slums. And in New York, the Gnawers did that. It's dirty business. The
Walkers spent more time with...um, what's the word..." There's a long
pause as she tries to think of the word and fails.

[Salem eventually drops Lyra off at the shop.  Handwaved because various
people had to head off to do various RL stuff, myself included.]