It is currently 20:19 Pacific Time on Sat Mar 15 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.58 and rising, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (85% full).

Salem calls KC, asks her to meet him in Harbor Park, by the fountain. Groovy?

K. C. says "Coo'."

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

Tall and dark, he stands a few inches over six feet, a well-built and rather dangerous-looking man somewhere around thirty years old. A mane of thick black hair, usually gathered into a loose ponytail that hangs nearly to the middle of his back, frames a somber, hawkish face, the left side of which is twisted by scars. If not for this disfigurement, he could be considered handsome -- albeit in a dour, moody, saturnine kind of way. His face is one designed for brooding and cynicism, and the short black beard that lines his mouth and jaw makes him look all the more satanic. His left eye is dead white, lost within the tangled jungle of scar tissue covering that side of his face; his good eye, on the right, is dark brown, not quite black. Both are shadowed, as if from lack of sleep. In short, he has the look of the very devil about him, or of a Christ figure gone bad.

A stark white button-down shirt hangs open over a plain black t-shirt, and the cuffs of crisp BDUs are tucked into a pair of black combat boots that look well broken in. Something hangs from a black cord around his neck but is tucked away under his t-shirt and hidden from view. The long, thick black hair's currently tied back into a ponytail, away from his face. The tails of the long black leather duster sweep around his ankles; the coat appears new and is in excellent condition.

Salem stands over by the fountain, nursing the end of a filterless cigarette and looking, in general, like the man at the end of a really bad day. Dour and restless, he watches the park with shadowed eyes.

K. C.

Cafe-au-lait skin. Amber eyes. Hundreds upon handfuls of micro-braids, the ends spiraling to the middle of her back, and left loose to hug her shoulders. Manicured nails, currently painted something close to mother-of-pearl, and just enough makeup.

She stands 5'10" on a slender frame and has gone for casual today: a white poet's blouse with full sleeves, faded denim jeans and open toed sandals. Gold jewelry: simple single strand necklace, hoop earrings, bracelet on her right wrist, watch on her left. The pager's kept at her waist, the cellphone in a pocket, and occasionally in her purse.

K. C. wanders around the fountain, arms folded across her chest. She might just be someone out for a stroll, but given the nature of the neighborhood, and the area around the fountain, that's unlikely. She heads for the smoking man, slowing as she comes. "Mr. Salem?"

Salem greets the woman with a curt nod. "K. C." He takes a final drag off the cigarette, then drops the butt and crushes it out underfoot. "You settling in all right?"

K. C. dares a faint smile. "Yes, sir. More or less, anyway. Are things all right with you?"

Salem shrugs. "Business is a bitch, and the natives are getting restless." His mouth twists into an irritated expression, briefly, and then he shakes it off. "Come on, someone I want you to meet." He gives the park a quick once-over. It's empty. "We can cross over here."

K. C. takes a breath to ask, then her eyebrows lift. "Cross over? I, ah." Little smile. "Sure. We can do that. I'll just need a minute." She unfolds her arms and starts to remove her earrings.

Salem arches an eyebrow, the smiles thinly. "I'm not fond of it, either." He slips his hands into his coat pockets. "Whenever you're ready."

K. C. tucks jewelry into her pockets, and toes out of her sandals. "I didn't know we were going over, that's all. I might have found another way to get here, so you didn't have to, you know, wait." She picks up her sandals, looks for a suitably dark spot, and sets them down again. "One more second."

Salem is patient, or at least he does a fair job mimicking patience.

The zipper first, then the shimmy. When she steps out of shadow again, she leaves the clothes behind. She wears Glabro, as well, and pads toward Salem, shoulders hunched. "Sorry 'bout that."

Salem lofts an eyebrow, but makes no comment. "No problem." He takes his hands out of his pockets and turns away, focussing on his reflection in the fountain.

Salem's eyes stop contemplatively on his reflection.

A ripple of Umbral wind swirls about you, and the Gauntlet parts.

Salem seems to shimmer momentarily, and then vanishes.

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.

K. C. appears in a swirl of wind and light.

Salem grits his teeth, pushing through the gauntlet more with force of will than spiritual talent, and as he steps into the brightness of the park's Shadow, he rolls his shoulders as though trying to work out a kink.

K. C.'s shoulders are still near her ears as she manages to push her way through the gauntlet, a moment behind Salem. She forces them down and takes a deep breath. Wry: "Could have been worse."

K. C. (Glabro)

Almost six and half feet tall. Close enough for government work, and she's female, or so the hint of heavy curves suggests. Maybe she's a body-builder. Maybe she should be. Braids drape broad shoulders broad shoulders and obscure the better part of what shouldn't be seen. What's missing is the hint of a single stitch of clothing. No shoes, no shirt, and definitely no pants.

Salem glances back at the other Glass Walker and gives her a thin smile. "I'll remember to warn you next time." He takes a deep breath and looks around, surveying the park with approval. "It's not a caern, but it's probably the closest thing the city has."

K. C. smirks. "Not complaining. Much, anyway."

Tesla, appears on a fine mist over the ground infront of Salem and the stranger. "I thought you would be coming tonight. And I sensed another, one I have not expirenced before." He scurries up to K. C. his feelers shooting small arcs of electricity over K. C.'s skin, "It does not bare my mark, though it has my people's."

Salem blinks, his gaze shifting from the park at large to the spirit scuttling across the ground. "New family, fresh in town," he says to the Cockroach. He explains to K. C., "This is Tesla, the patron of my pack."

K. C. catches sight of the totem just before she's touched by the arcs of electricity. She takes a quick breath, but doesn't flinch, doesn't retreat at all. She exhales and nods her head, respect in the gesture. "It's an honor to meet you."

Tesla raises the shell upon his back, splitting open and throwing out his wings like unfurling a cape. Flapping them at an impossible rate he is immediatly up in the air at eye level with Salem. "She can not replace them." the spirit says in a cryptic message that is tinged with a sadness to its electric voice... a deep sorrow only a spirit can express.

K. C. tilts her head at the totem, then glances at Salem. Her forehead wrinkles. "Replace them. Replace who?" She looks back to the roach. "Who was I supposed to replace?"

Salem's eyes narrow. He regards the spirit with a bland express and replies, flatly, "No one's asking her to replace them. But she is here, and she is Family." Glancing to the other Philodox, he explains, "The pack's lost two members since it was founded. Roger, a Galliard, and John Smith, Ahroun and our former Elder."

Tesla tilts a feeler towards K. C., almost like an eyestalk studying her. "Then it is welcome. What does it call itself?" The voice returns to electronic neutrality, quicksilver in the change of moods.

K. C. ohs and ducks her head again. "I'm sorry. Don't mean to bring up bad memories." She turns her attention back to Tesla. "K. C." She glances at Salem and clears her throat. "Kyla Corrine Edmonton. Cliath Philodox from the Sept of the Awakening, back in D. C. Call me Talks-the-Talk back at home."

Salem merely shrugs faintly at the apology, his face still quite bland. He nods at the introduction. "Jack Salem. Also Philodox, and Elder, as you may have been already told."

Tesla flits away quickly at the introduction, circling around and settling on the ground at a small distance from the two, folding his wings back under. "Talks-the-Talk has been given a task to speak of her character and determination in protecting this place and its Family?"

"Ah. No. But I will," she amends. "Jester sent me to do what I could, to smooth things over between us and the humans. Law's my thing, in their world, too. We know there've been troubles out this way. Thought maybe I could help."

Salem takes a seat on the edge of the fountain. "I dislike hoops," the ex-Ronin says simply. He turns to K. C. "Have you met Lianne yet?"

K. C. holds up a hand, palm forward. "Not trying to put you through hoops, boss. I met her. She bought me out. Offered me more than I was making. Now she writes my checks."

One corner of the older halfmoon's mouth twitches upward. "I was talking about _your_ hoops." He nods once, the half-smile vanishing. "Good. Frankly, the city needs you, so I won't set any formal chiminage. You've passed your Rite, so I assume you know how to find your ass with both hands." Touch of dry humor there. "Stick around, get involved. There's plenty to get involved in." He pushes to his feet.

Tesla sits there, unmoving for a moment, then suddenly with a sound of dry cracking and crumbling paper the spirit's body starts to harden and turn a bleak and dead black, then gray. Seconds later it falls off to a powder at the spirit's feet and a new shell more brilliant then the one before it, a whole different swirling pattern of color strong in reds and oranges, is visible. "Eldest of my children, I have something I need from them... a task."

Salem frowns, eyebrows lifting as he looks back over at the spirit. "A task?"

K. C. grins slowly. "I'm pretty good at knowing where my own ass is, sure." She nods. "I'll stick. I have a ques -- " She looks to Tesla again. "But it can wait."

Tesla flickers his antenae through the air wildly for a few seconds, shaking small particles of dust off of them. "Yes, but it will wait until my children are all in one place. Those who are away, should return before they are to leave again."

Salem gives his farewells to K. C., who departs. Then he turns his attention back to the spirit. "Alicia, you mean?" His mouth thins. "It could be weeks before she's back. If she comes back." He shakes his head, mouth twisting into a pessimistic frown.

Tesla instantly gives an arc of deep purple energy between his feelers at this. "She may not have the Walker blood, but she has the blood of a survivor. All may die around her, but she will return to us. As will the other I know among those who have left to the great pit. Three-Blades, she wished to join with my children as well, did she not?"

Salem pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat and nods. "She did express that desire, yes, and Alicia vouches for her. Do you approve?"

Tesla returns the question quickly to the eldest of his pack. "Do you approve?"

Salem's mouth thins. "I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt despite her tribe, based on what I've heard about her. And what I've heard is generally good."

"You forsake too many cousins. Rat is a friend. If you approve of her, I will send her with you on this task when she returns... if she returns, I do not know her. We will see if she has a place within the Synthesis. If not, she will walk her path alone. If she does, then I will approve as well."

Salem's face tightens. "Rat may be a friend, but its children are less than reputable." Then he shrugs, his gaze skimming away from the spirit and over the rest of the park. Keeping an eye out. "So, we hold until Alicia and Yi return from Hanford."

The spirit finishes speaking for a time then goes on, "Yes. I require something be recovered for me. I can not appear in your realm. I have forgotten how, and the place is lost to my memory. But one of my sisters was bound to a fetish by the Silver Kings in a time of their need. Those who bound her found they did not require her services and soon, forgot about her. They hold her bound form like something they have the right to own as part of birth, and she suffers from the loneliness and disconnection with her children... but not in silence, for I can hear her."

The Walker's eyes narrow again as he turns them back to Tesla. He folds his arms across his chest and paces, slowly, around the spirit. "Do you know where they're keeping her?"

Tesla doesn't bother turning to keep up with Salem, just leans his antennae to follow. "I have forgotten... but you will remember for me, when my children are all together once more."

Salem stops and exhales a frustrated-sounding breath. "_All_ together? That may be impossible." He stares off toward the river. "Tatt is off doing god knows what. Leala likewise. And Francisco..." He shakes his head. "Francisco may be back from the Umbra, but he may also be damaged goods."

Tesla offers quickly, more sadness tinging the edge of what can be called his voice. "I feel it to... they have lost their focus. But time will tell if they will find it again. When Guards-The-Flame returns with the Rat child, bring them and Talks-the-Talk before me... if they are dedicated, then this should be enough."

Salem frowns and turns back to face the spirit. "K. C. may not wish to join Synthesis," he notes, blandly.

Tesla lets his antenae wilter in a frowning motion. "We will see. Do not be so bleak, all things in their time... patience and understanding. The mother will see us through... I trust in her as I trust in you."

"Mmn," says the Walker. "Thank you for the vote of confidence. Is there anything else, tonight?"

Tesla, in answer, simply unfurl's his wings and hovers for a moment above the ground before disappearing from view.

Salem watches him go, then mutters, "Right." He glances around at the empty park, then paces over toward the river. Thinking.