Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (74% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 52 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.61 and falling, and the relative humidity is 86 percent. The dewpoint is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)

12 April 2003

Harbor Park Fountain

Renee is seated under on of the six trees near the fountain. Back against the rough bark, with a book in her lap.

Salem comes prowling into the park from the south, hands buried in his coat pockets and a filterless cigarette dangling from his lips.

Renee flips the page in her book and draws her knees a little closer. Not paying any attention to those around her, she fails to notice the Walker's arrival.

Salem, on the other hand, spots the Gnawer almost immediately. His eyes narrow faintly, and his mouth firms into a thin frown. He heads her way, making no attempt at stealth.

Some sixth sense seems to kick in and Renee looks up from her book, face paling when she catches sight of the Glass Walker. Her eyes dart around the glade and finding no safe route of escape, they resettle on Salem. "Hey," she rumbles.

Salem stops a foot or two away from the girl, studying her with flat eyes. "Did it live?" he asks around the smoking cigarette.

Renee's eyes harden and her jaw visibly clenches. "Not any of yer buisness," she growls softly. "I held up my end an' thats all you need ta know."

Salem takes the cigarette from his mouth and taps ash onto the ground. "You'll regret that attitude one day," he says evenly. The rage is well-leashed tonight, firmly caged. "Should I assume, then, that you're back in town and back to business as before?"

Renee snorts. "What attitude? The trustin' you 'bout as far as I can throw you? I'm back an' I'm workin' on the buisness bit. Need ta pay Elan a visit an' bitch at him fer a bit."

"Check Ouro's turf," Salem says coolly, ignoring the first part of Renee's reply. "I certainly haven't seen him on the streets since you left."

Renee scowls. "I know. Fucker said he was gonna take over Eldership and watch over things while I was gone. He sure as hell ain't been watchin' the streets the way he shoulda been. If it ain't willin' ta do the job, he shouldn't be Elder."

Salem takes a long drag from the cigarette. "I could have warned you, had you asked. But nevermind." He toys with the thin white tube of paper-wrapped tobacco, passing it from finger to finger. "Had a couple of vampire attacks, so keep an eye out for them. Had some Strider twit go pop in the park, too, recently... if you've seen the article about the bear fight..." He nods, mouth twisting into a small grimace. "That was why."

Renee wrinkles her nose. "Guessed the bear-bit was somethin' like that. As fer Elan, I wasn't left with much fuckin' choice. Nice as Lyra is, she ain't suited ta bein' in charge. Too soft."

"And Yi is off in Hanford, with Jamethon." Salem shrugs. "Little you could do, either way, I agree. Personally, I would have chosen inexperienced and soft over experienced and completely apathetic, but that's merely my opinion." He smiles thinly, the expression not reaching his eyes; his tone is very dry. "And, as I'm sure you're going to tell me, none of my business."

Renee bares her teeth at the Walker. "He'd moved back inta the Church an' was showin' intrest in things again. Asked ta be Elder when I took off an' he is a fostern. Didn't last long after I'd left. Fucker." She sighs. "Lyra was the only one 'round. Elder of herself, so it didn't really matter. Splittin' hairs an' all that shit. Still gonna bitch at him."

Salem takes another drag, then sets the cigarette between his lips. "As would I." He looks down on her for a moment, eyeing the pinch-faced girl critically. "You eaten today?"

Renee eyes the Walker suspiciously, as if trying to detrmine the underlining reason for his consern. "Yea, I've eaten."

Salem's expression gives no clue; he seems just as cold as before. "When?"

Renee rolls her eyes. "Sometime 'round lunch. Look, food ain't a problem right now. Kay? Don't know wy ya got yer paties in a not over ma eatin' habits."

Salem's shoulders move in a careless shrug. "Whatever you say." He taps ash onto the ground and turns to go. "You need anything, you know how to reach me."

"Why do you give a shit about me?" Renee rumbles, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

Salem pauses, half-turning back. The Walker's mismatched eyes are flat and cold, like those of a crocodile emerging through the surface of a river. "You're family," he answers, plainly, and turns away again, walking. Unhurried.

Renee frowns, mentally chewing that over. "Willin' ta accept me as I am?" The Gnawer calls out to the departing Salem. The offering of an olive branch, perhaps.

His step slows; he pauses for a moment with his back toward her. "I'll consider it," he answers, and walks on.

Renee frowns and lightly shakes her head. Standing, the Gnawer streatches and briefly rubs at her face. With a yawn, she begins to trail the Walker from a distance. Her course changing from Salem's, once she has left the park.