It is currently 15:28 Pacific Time on Tue Aug 20 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 68
degrees Fahrenheit (20 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from variable directions at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.01
and falling, and the relative humidity is 54 percent. The dewpoint is 51
degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (82% full).

McDonald's

A small McDonald's which is devoid of any sort of garish trappings. Instead,
it seems to focus on fast, friendly service with a smile and good food.
Above the counter to the north, you can see the glowing yellow billboard
which details the food and prices. Behind the cashiers, a few people can be
seen scurrying about near the grill, making drinks or tossing finished
burgers down a small metal chute toward the cashiers. Along the side wall,
children's high chairs can be seen, each with the grinning face of Ronald
McDonald. A wall poster asks you to donate money to the Ronald McDonald
House. Opposite the cashier counter are both Smoking and Non-Smoking
sections for in-house dining. Fake plastic plants hang from the ceiling and
below the skylight in the center of the room is a square wooden basin that
rises 3 feet into the air. In the basin are live potted plants, including a
rather stumpy tree.

A glass door on the western side of the fast food joint leads back out onto
the street.


Jeremy heads into the Mickey D's with Quentin, having his nose nearly
plastered into a book. "Ok, now that we spent about three grand on clothes,
I guess we can scrape up the last three bucks to our name to get some cheese
burgers."

If Quentin was wearing red and green and white, one might mistake him for
Santa Claus what with the hefty shopping bags slung over one shoulder like
the jolly man's big sack of toys. "Well," he chuckles, "I can't complain
that I don't have any clothes, now, at least.."

Dizzy enters the fine family-oriented dining establishment and notices the
people who have walked in just ahead of her. She ponders leaving for a
second, but decides against it. Instead she walks over to the two boys.
"Hello there," she says in greeting.

Glancing over to Dizzy as she enters, Jeremy closes the book after folding
down a page corner to mark his spot. Sliding it into his jacket, he lifts
his chin up slowly. "Hey Diz'."

A sidelong look over towards the greeting, a dark brow raising over a single
green eye as Quentin regards Dizzy for a moment with an unreadable look.
Finally, he returns the greeting with a simple, "Hey." Turning away, he
steps over towards one of the larger booths and unslings the shopping bags
from his shoulder-- settling them in there where they won't fall over, and
coincidentally giving the other two a fleeting moment of privacy. Well, as
private as a McDonalds can be.

"Hey," Dizzy repeats. "You guys go shopping?" she asks, motioning to the
bags Quentin has. She stands there, looking a bit uncomfortable but trying
to deal with it.

Jeremy nods his head. "Yah. I took Quentin to the mall to get him some
things since he didn't have any clothes." He hitches a shoulder slightly,
then watches his room mate walk off.

Dizzy nods, "Yeah. The clothes thing. So, both he and that girl, huh? Within
the last couple of months I take it?"

Quentin raises one hand to rub at his now-sore shoulder as he walks along
back towards the pair of his room-mate and his room-mate's ex, lips quirking
in a faint smile.

Hands in her pockets, whistling cheerfully to herself, the Gnawer cub Aiyana
strolls down the sidewalk towards the fast food joint. She has a couple
dollars she managed to find and now she's gonna treat herself to a nice
afternoon snack.

The restaurant door opens, emitting the diabolic figure of the _other_ Glass
Walker Philodox, the one without the bright hair or cheery disposition. Jack
Salem enters the McDonalds just moments before Aiyana reaches it, and his
body language has all the tense, controlled viciousness of any high-rage
Garou on the full moon.

"Um.. Quentin is family.. Aiyana is a 'cousin' so to speak." Jeremy says,
shifting on his feet. "One of us, just.. on a different team, ya'know?"

"Yeah, I get the picture," Dizzy says, smiling. "She's staying at your place
and not the 'house, though? She's a city rat?"

"She doesn't technically stay there," Quentin provides informatively as he
returns to the pair, hands tucking into his pockets as he gives Dizzy
another suspicious look, "She's just there a lot." A look past them to the
door, and he quirks an eyebrow in surprise at the darksome figure who's just
entered-- calling over, "'Afternoon, sir."

Aiyana squints. That wasn't Salem she just saw go past, was it? She wrinkles
her nose as she frowns a bit, then sighs, deciding to go into the place
anyhow. Q did tell her to get a spine, and a spine she shall have. The
Gnawer opens the door and stops once inside, eyeing the menu with a
pondering look.

Salem's eyes are hidden behind dark lenses. He glances over toward the trio
of Walker-types, brows lifting as he spots Dizzy. He angles his path toward
them, hands folded into his coat pockets. Apart from the beast snarling
under his flesh, he seems to be in a fairly good mood. Everything is
relative. "Afternoon."

"Afternoon, Salem." Jeremy says as he swallows slightly in his throat,
aiming himself for the counter instead. Wham. He runs right into Aiyana
without even looking.

"Hey Salem," Dizzy says, happy to see one of the 'older' Walkers.

Quentin's fingers continue to work in against his shoulder's muscle, arm
crossing his chest as he curls a slight smile over towards the cliath-- thus
missing Jeremy's sudden introduction to Aiyana nearer to the counter. "We
were just out shopping for some new clothes," he says, "Me and Jer, anyway.
How're you doing t'day? How's the kid?"

Aiyana oofs and squints her eyes angrily. While she may be chipper most of
the time, she's been a bit on the edgy side lately, and she immediately
turns around to deal with whoever just hit her. "The fu--" Her rant is cut
off before it even gets a start. "Oh! Jeremy? Hi!" Temper sedated for now,
she smiles, "Wassup?"

Salem glances over his shoulder, noting the collision with a thin downward
twist of his mouth. He turns back to the two Walker cubs without commenting
on it. "Cat? He's fine." He tilts a look down at Quentin. "You should come
visit again." He glances at Dizzy. "Both of you."

Jeremy blinks his eyes and glances to the Gnawer, then grins widely. "Hey
Aiyana." He says, turning ten shades happy. Giving her a light nudge, he
chuckles in his throat. "Q an I just got back from the mall, bought a lot of
stuff."

Dizzy nods to Salem. "Sure. Where is everyone holed up at now?"

Quentin tips his head in a slight nod, a briefly frustrated glint revealed
in his eyes as he asks tenatively, "Think there's anything I could bring him
to apologize for.. you know.. blowing up at him?"

Aiyana runs a hand through her hair. "Have fun? Hope you picked up some new
boxers while you were out," she teases. "Preferrably some with color. Like
tye-dye. That's be cool. And Quentin feelin' any better today? I hope so."

"I'm over at Red Mill, over on Elson," Salem says, answering Dizzy. "There's
nothing central, not since... hm." He glances down, brushing absently at one
sleeve of his jacket. Then he looks at Quentin. "He's not angry with you. In
fact, he was worried that you'd be in trouble." The Philodox raises an
eyebrow. He also doesn't look over at Aiyana and Jeremy again. Yet.

Jeremy smirks slightly at Aiyana. "He's over there, with Dizzy and Salem."
He murmurs quietly, chuckling under his breath. Cheeks redden a little as he
murmurs. "I got some gray ones."

"Yeah okay," Dizzy says, pulling out a palm pilot from her jacket pocket.
"Red Mill... Elson... Salem..." she repeats to herself, as she starts
entering the infromation into the tiny computer.

"He was.." Quentin shoots Salem a rather incredulous look, before raising
one hand to rub at the side of his head a bit to ease the headache that's
been a dull throb for the last.. oh.. day and a half. "..jeeze. The kid's
like a friggin' saint."

Aiyana errs, "Oh yeah. Salem. Thought I saw him come in here." She rubs the
back of her neck and glances towards the table, clicking her tongue stud
against her teeth in agitation upon seeing Dizzy in the area. "Grey? That's
it? You really need to liven up a bit, bro. Don't make me go shoppin' for
you. I'll bring back leopard print and shit."

Salem glances toward Dizzy and recites his apartment phone number for her,
too. Then he says to the male cub, "He's eager to please. It's not quite the
same thing." His voice is dry.

Dizzy nods as she enters the phone number. "Okay. I'll be sure to stop in
sometime then." And with that she plops the device back into her jacket
pocket.

Quentin grimaces just a bit, before allowing, "Yeah, I s'pose. I should wait
until like.. later in the month to visit, though. Don't want to make the kid
piss his pants again or anything." Of course, he's about the same age as the
'kid'.

Aiyana grunts and shakes her head, smiling. "I'm gonna hurt you one of these
days..." Rummaging through a pocket she pulls out her money and goes back to
staring at the menu.

Salem's eyes narrow slightly, though it's barely visible behind his
sunglasses. Then he grunts and jerks his head in a nod. "Suit yourself." And
now he _does_ glance over toward the counter, toward Aiyana and Jeremy, his
expression carefully neutral.

Jeremy picks up his tray after filling his soda, then glances about to the
other three as they finish talking. Giving them a quick smile, he heads over
to catch up.

Quentin follows the cliath's look across the restaurant, raising an eyebrow
just a bit at the sight of Aiyana standing there looking over the menu.
"Huh," he murmurs, "What're the chances.. all we need is for Mr. Smith to
walk in now, or something."

Aiyana orders herself a double cheeseburger and gives the cashier her money,
then grabs her food once it's done. Her eyes trail over towards the group
and at first she takes a hesitant step towards them, before turning and
moving towards a table near the door.

Dizzy goes up to the counter and orders simply a medium coke. She pays and
takes the drink back over to where Salem, Quentin and Jeremy are. "Jeremy
was telling me that you guys watched Rog's DVD," she mentions upon her
return.

Jeremy glances over and notices Aiyana heading off. With a frown, he turns
and follows after her quickly, sliding down across from her. Leaning
forward, he engages in conversation, stealing a fry from her as well.
"How're you holding up?"

"We do seem to attract one another," Salem remarks, still looking over
toward Aiyana. His mouth thins as the Gnawer chooses to avoid the knot of
Glass Walkers. Then he nods to Dizzy. "We did. You were mentioned."

"Yeah, so it seems.." A brief departure from the knot of Garou, as Quentin
steps over to get into line for his own order.

Aiyana shrugs a little, eyeing her food. "Eh. Still kinda pissy from
yesterday, but that could also be from the moon. So I guess I'm goin'
through a lunar-induced PMS." A hint of a grin on her lips, and the cub
chuckles. "So I apoligize beforehand, in case I get all bitchy towards you
or Quentin."

Dizzy's eyes shift to the floor, "Yeah. He mentioned that as well. Is there
any chance that I could get to see it?"

"Jeremy should have the DVD," Salem says. "He also knows the password. I'm
sure he won't mind setting it up for you."

Jeremy nods his head and opens up his burger, picking off the pickles and
onions. "I won't take offense to any of it. I'm quite used to it by now." He
smiles, raising up a brow as he munches on another fry.

Quentin orders a crispy chicken combo, supersized, and steps along down the
counter's length to wait for his meal-- pouring himself a mixture of dr.
pepper and orange soda once he's handed his cup.

Aiyana takes a bite of her burger, chews, then hmms softly. "Yeah, but, I'll
still feel bad about it. And last thing I wanna do is make my friends upset
with me."


[Later...]


Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees,
a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a
flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and
about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of
old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel
slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around
the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright
mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a
large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in
robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek
symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its
feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any
residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of
the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of
St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several
feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.


Salem stands near the fountain, arms folded across his chest, a light
evening breeze tugging at his hair. The park is deserted, no surprise.

Little surprise indeed, with the moon bright and the park so often a
gathering of werewolves. Quentin makes his way along the paths of the park,
hands tucked into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt as he comes into
view. Pausing at the edge of the meadow and looking around briefly, he
catches sight of Salem and heads over in his direction.

Salem spots the cub and unfolds his arms, hooking his thumbs into the front
pockets of his jeans as he waits for Quentin's approach. Once the young
Galliard's near enough, the Philodox looks him up and down and asks, "Are
your clothes dedicated?" He's got that usual bland, stern expression on his
face, and his tone of voice is all business.

Quentin's eyebrows raise slightly at the question, coming to a halt just a
few strides away from the Philodox. "Ah. 'Cept for my shoes and jacket, yes,
rhya. Why?"

Salem's chin tips up slightly as he eyes Quentin. "Because you're about to
step from the world of the material to the world of the spirit. _We_ can do
this because we're made of both. Your clothes, however, are not, unless
they've been dedicated to you. When you cross, they'll remain behind."

"Oh!" Quentin straightens a bit at the explaination, a hint of eagerness
evident in his expression as a smile threatens to twitch onto his lips, "I
didn't know that.. ah.. should I take off my shoes, then?"

Salem nods, then gestures to a shadowy nook over to the side, close to the
fountain. "Your jacket, too. Leave them over there."

Quentin steps along over to that darkened corner, reaching down to unlace
his shoes and slip out of them-- shrugging off his jacket and dropping it
atop them before stepping back over towards Salem. "Alright.. what now?"

Salem motions the cub closer to the fountain, then points down at the water.
"The key to the Umbra is within your own reflection," he says, smoothly,
like it's something he's said a thousand times before. "Look into your own
gaze, and then past it."

Quentin's lips purse just a bit as he steps over towards the fountain's
edge, reaching down to rest both hands on its rim and look down at his
reflection in the gleaming moonlight. "Like.. one of those pictures that you
have to look past to see the hidden picture?"

Salem folds his arms across his chest again, his eye on the cub. He nods.
"Something like that, yes."

"Okay.." Silence, then, as the galliard cub stares down at his own rippling
reflection with a furrowed brow and a tight purse of his lips.

"Don't force it," says the Philodox after a few moments. His eye remains
steady on the teenager, his expression one that might easily be interpreted
as critical. "As with shifting, sometimes trying too hard will defeat the
purpose. Relax. Focus on your higher self. Transformation comes from rage,
from the beast within you. Stepping sideways relies on your wealth of
spirit."

A flicker of green eyes sidelong to the cliath, then back down to the
reflection as he frowns down at himself frowning back. "Alright. Relax,
higher self, spirituality.. just like church was supposed to be.."

Salem nods wordlessly. He continues to watch as Quentin strives to take his
first step into a parallel universe.

The sounds of the city, not so far away, is all that can be heard in the
park's silence for long minutes as Quentin gazes down at his own mirror
image, the pads of his fingers sliding over the fountain's edge lightly as
he focuses upon himself.. and beyond. Eventually, his eyes widen just a bit
as he reaches forwards-- and through, in the shimmer of softest moonlight.

Umbra: Harbor Park

The Umbral ground beneath your feet here is lush with vegetation, an oasis
of life amidst the concrete and webbing of the scab. Trees stand proud and
tall here, their branches full of leaves. Shrubs line the outer edges of the
park, tangled with encroaching webs. The fountain stands out boldly from
even the surrounding area, the sleek lines sharper and more pronounced.
Clean pure water roars and cascades from the figure in the fountain's
center, falling into a cold clear pool that looks quite inviting. Spreading
out from the fountain, the rest of the park is a green veldt that seems to
radiate life and strength. The river banks the east shore of the park,
bridged by a massive rusty bridge. On this shore, the glade seems to have
spread out on to it, vines winding around the supports. Further across the
river, the bridge melds into the scab again, flaked with rust and covered in
webs. The river itself is clean within a few feet of the shore, but black
ooze seems to encroach menacingly from the murk of the rest of the river.

A walkway leads out of the Glade-like atmosphere of the park from just north
of the fountain. Eastward, the dark span of the bridge stretches over the
vile river. Dark streets lead west and southwest into the blighted Umbra of
the city.

The cub is left alone in the park's Umbra for several long minutes. Then
Salem makes his way through the Gauntlet. The Philodox gives his head a
sharp shake like that of an irritated beast, then smooths the grimace from
his face and glances around to see where Quentin's got to.

In the passage of those minutes, the cub hasn't gotten very far.. he hasn't,
in fact, gone beyond the immediate vicinity of the fountain's rushing
waters. Quentin's standing near the edge of one of those artificial menhirs,
laced with gleaming webs of steel and stone, gazing out across the living
greenery of the park and the darkened blight beyond with a look of
fascinated wonder.

Salem notes Quentin's position with a nod of satisfaction, then tilts his
gaze upwards to view the moon. In the spirit world, Luna shines huge and
bright, and in the park especially, it's as bright as day. "First lesson,"
says the Philodox sharply, turning his eye again to the cub. "In the Umbra,
Luna rules and Helios, the sun, is weak. This is why we avoid the Umbra
during the day and beware it during the smaller phases of the moon."

At the sound of the Philodox's voice, Quentin nearly jumps out of his skin--
having not noticed the other Walker's arrival within the umbral realm-- and
whirls back towards him, exhaling in a burst of breath. "Jesus, you scared
me," he murmurs, stepping back over closer to Salem and tipping his chin
back to look at the sky. "Why?" The soft question touched with awe as he
gazes upon the brilliant silver disc of Luna above, "I mean.. what happens
when Luna isn't out?"

"It's dark," Salem explains, simply. His thumbs have hooked themselves back
into his front pockets. "Wyrm-spirits tend to be more active when the
Umbra's darker."

"Oh." A simple answer to a simple question. Quentin's head drops back down
closer to his chest as he turns to look out across the park once more, eyes
wide, "Everything is more.. kind of.. real. Brighter, darker.."

Salem nods. "The park is one of the most... spiritually strong places in the
city. It's not as powerful as a caern, not even as powerful as the weakest
caerns. It's a glen, a place where Gaia is strong. When the caern fell, many
spirits fled here and took refuge. It was... quite crowded." He tilts his
head, studying Quentin, his gaze less critical this time, calm over the
inner tension of rage. "The Gauntlet's not quite so thick, here, as it is in
other places of the city. If you went to the woods and crossed over there,
it'd be even easier. And when the caern is powered again... crossing is
almost effortless." He pauses a beat, then adds, with a certain mild note of
dry humor, "Even for a Realm-rooted homid like myself."

Quentin's lips purse in a frown at the explaination, as he raises his head
to look over towards the rusty, oily webs of the city in the distance. "What
about.. over there? Why's it all dark and.. slimy?"

Salem wasn't smiling before, and his expression darkens considerably now.
"The Wyrm. _That_ Quentin, is what happens when the Wyrm corrupts the
Weaver's work. It is, unfortunately, a common enough sight. The slums, the
filth, the crime... it accumulates, and the Wyrm grows fat on it." He tucks
a stray lock of hair back behind one ear. "Even that's not as bad as it
could be," he adds. "There's a place in the Umbra, the deep Umbra, called
the Scar, where the Wyrm has more or less taken over an urban environment
entirely. The Scar makes _that_," -- he nods toward the darkness -- "look
like paradise."

Quentin drops back a slow step to the Philodox's side, wrapping both arms
around himself as he gazes off towards the blighted hell of the city. "The..
whole city's like that?" A glance up to Salem with a frown and a furrowing
of his brow, "So we shouldn't come here while we're in the city?"

"It's better uptown," Salem remarks, looking back down at the cub. "And we
_have_ to go there, sometimes. That's where the war is." He looks back out
toward the darkness surrounding the city's glen. "We pick our battles
carefully. We don't ignore them. Remember, too, that the Umbra and the Realm
are reflections of each other. If, for example, the slums were cleaned up,
if crime and misery were reduced, those improvements would be echoed in the
Umbra. We have a cleansing ritual that helps as well, but if the cause of
the taint isn't removed, the cleansing has to be repeated, again and again."

"The sympathetic connection between things, that you explained.." Quentin
looks back out across the lush and radiant life of the glen itself, reaching
out to brush his hand lightly against the menhir's reflection as though
uncertain if it was really here.

Salem gives Quentin an approving glance, perhaps pleased that he remembered.
"Yes." He cocks his head to one side and arches a brow. "So," he says.
"Impressed?"

Quentin's lips twitch a bit in a rueful smile at the question, as he looks
over the park and up to the fountain's moonlit cascade with a look of
amazement in his eyes. "Yeah.. that's one way of understating it.."

Salem nods. "And don't be jealous of Cat," he says, his voice sounding
perfectly calm. "There isn't a set syllabus for Garou one-oh-one. You
learned the Litany first, and the tribes and auspices. He turned into a
wolf, ran himself exhausted, and then got to see the other side of the
world." Broad shoulders roll into a shrug. "As it happens, his auspice made
it appropriate, after the fact."

At that observation, Quentin jumps just a bit and casts a guilty look back
over in Salem's direction. "Oh. Um. I'm, um, not. Well, a little, I guess,"
he amends, mumbling as he looks back over across the park's umbrascape.

Salem has a faintly amused little glint in his eye, though the bastard still
doesn't quite smile. "I'm also not your only teacher. If I gave you the
impressed that only _I_ could take you on your first Umbral trip, I
apologize."

"Well.." Quentin shakes his head just a bit, observing quietly, "You're the
only 'Walker I ever see that's not a cub, 'till recently when John-rhya's
been around more often."

Salem lifts a brow, then frowns slightly, his gaze shifting sidelong as he
considers this. "Hmn. I suppose you're right." He looks back at Quentin and
now he _does_ smile, but it's a thin and rather feral thing, showing a glint
of teeth. "All the more reason to get you up to speed _quickly_."

Quentin raises an eyebrow ever so slightly at Salem's rather.. unpleasant
smile, and offers a faint but less feral smile back up to him. "Yeah, I
suppose so.. John-rhya said that he'd bring me umbral soon if nobody else
did, actually, last time we talked."

Salem's expression smooths back to its usual controlled neutrality, though a
glint of the wolf remains in his eye. "Good." He rubs his hands together,
massaging his knuckles. "Ready to head back? We should retrieve your jacket
and shoes before they go missing."

"Oh-- uh-- sure." Quentin glances back over towards the fountain with a
slight frown, asking, "How do we know if someone's around, though? I
wouldn't want to head back and there's some bum hanging out or something.."

Salem gestures toward the fountain. "Look through the Gauntlet before you
step through. You can also look through from the other side, to see what the
local Umbra looks like before you step sideways."

Quentin steps back to its edge, reaching out to brush the tips of his
fingers through the clear water in a rippling caress before drawing back
again to rest on the fountain's edge. "Alright. Just.. like, the same way we
came here?"

Salem steps up beside the cub, nodding. "Exactly. Just the same."

It takes less time this time, as once one's done it once it's easier
afterwards.. like riding a bike.. and Quentin focuses upon his reflection
once more, in the rippling waters of the fountain, focuses beyond it and
reaches.