It is currently 18:45 Pacific Time on Sun Jan 5 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partially cloudy. The temperature is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 30.44 and falling, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 41 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (18% full).

Forgotten Church

The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.

The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or been eaten away.

Renee is near the front of the church, pacing up and down. By all apearances, she is trying to wear a groove into the floor.

Salem pushes the doors of the church open and slips inside, out of the cold. In one arm is a paper grocery bag, about half-full; his free hand knocks loudly on the door to announce his presence.

As Salem steps inside, he is greeting by a mass of barking dogs. They come bounding toward the Walker, only to shy away at the last minute. Slinking away to their respective corners. Renee stops her pacing, shifting her attention to the Walker. "Hey..."

Salem gives the mutts only a slight, passing glance. Then he disregards them. "Evening. Mind if I come in?" It's her territory, after all -- her tribe's territory, anyway -- and for the sake of that, at least, he's being more polite than usual.

Renee hitches one shoulder in a shug, slightly more tense then usual. Or distracted, rather hard to tell which. "Long time no see. Q was here eariler. Interestin' hair cut."

Renee

Renee stands at a height of 5'4 inches tall and is probably somewhere between sixteen and seventeen years old. A old, dirty, woolen cap covers her head and hides her hair. The Gnawer's eyes are a deep chocolate brown and framed by light olive skin. Hinting at some Italian, or Asian ancestry, blended in with a primarily Caucasian background. When she speaks, the Gnawer's voice is rough and misused.

Renee's clothes consist of a pair of baggy jeans that are a couple of sizes too big and a atleast five different pairs of sweatshirts. An oversized man's jacket tops of the ensemble and the overall effect, makes the young woman look... fat. The Gnawer could used a bath and a certain odor clings to her clothing.

Salem eyes the Gnawer's appearance critically. "You mean the dye job?" He snorts and moves forward, setting the bag down in one of the front pews. "Hm. Interesting, yes." He nods toward the grocery bag. "I brought some things over. Canned food, other nonperishables."

"Yea the dye job." The food causes Renee to smile, just a little. "Food is always good. Been havin' everyone an' their uncle bringing stuff over, since hearin' I was stuck here." Tilting her head to one side, the Gaiilard tlooks toward the doors for a second. With a grunt, she returns her attention to the food. Opening up the bag, she takes stock of the contents. "I'll stuff'em downstairs. Waitin' fer Andrea-rhya ta show up."

Salem reaches into his coat for his cigarette case. "Another cleansing, or other UL things?" His tone is calm, pure business.

Renee shakes her head, pulling out a can of alphagetti. "No. Finally figured out what was in me. Even talked ta the Caern's Totem. That was a new one. Even went an' talked ta a Mage she knows." THe Galliard considers the can, then makes a brief disapearance downstaires. Returning with a opened can and a spoon. "I've got vampire blood in me. Thats what that strange magic was."

Salem wrinkles his nose slightly as Renee prepares to eat the canned pasta cold and looks even less happy with the news. "So. They _are_ involved with this. That explains the extra strength, too. But not the mutations... unless..." The Walker pauses, lips thin, brow furrowed.

Renee shrugs. "Don't forget Sale, I was Tainte an' had a Bane followin' me. Thats all ya need ta make a Formor and those fuckers ain't exactly normal."

"Certain vampires have been known to truck with Wyrm spirits," the halfmoon notes, grimly. "Anything for an edge, or greater power."

"Creepy fuckers," Renee notes, helping herself to cold pasta. "Blood is startin' t a leave my system now. Body wants more. Can feel the wantin', right down ta my bones."

Salem grunts, lighting up one of the handrolled cigarettes and inhaling deeply. "It's an addiction, like any other. As long as you fight the withdrawal successfully, you should be fine."

Renee wrinkles her nose. "Easy fer you ta say. Can feel it pullin' on me. Gets bit worse, with every day that passes. Thats why Andrea-rhya is comin' by. Plans ta drop me of on that island in her territory, until I stop wantin' the stuff."

Salem lifts an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Even worse is the fact that you might have been Bonded to the vampire that blood came from, and a Bond sometimes can last even after the blood's gone from the system." He takes another drag, then exhales smoke through his nostrils.

Renee blinks. "What the fuck? How the hell does that happen?"

Salem snorts. "How the hell does a six foot man turn into a nine foot werewolf and then a ninety-pound wolf? Magic. Fucking magic."

Renee snorts. "Full of fuckin' info, ain't ya?" The Galliard mumbles, before scooping more pasta into her mouth. "You had alot of experience with Leeches?"

"A bit, yes," the Glass Walker confirms, tapping cigarette ash onto the floor. "None of it particularly pleasant."

Renee scoops more pasta into her mouth, falling silent for few minutes. "Hey, Lyra said ya talked ta her at one point. Seemed ta start turnin' around after that. Ya got my thanks, fer that much."

Salem smiles, very faintly, just for a moment. "Has she done anything about the boy yet?"

Renee's nostrils flare, gaze drifting toward the exit, before flickering back to the Walker. "She is plannin' too. Haven't heard word that she has, yet." The Gnawer shakes her head. "Was still tryin' ta avoid it, but I sat her down an' talked ta her. So I figure she actuallys plans ta nail him now. Gotta let her do it. Got wounds on the inside. SHould help'em heal up better, then havin' someone else do it."

"Whatever she does," Salem says calmly, leaning against one of the pews and examining the burning end of his cigarette, "it will be what _she_ decides to do about it. Her decision. Her... judgement." He makes another of those faint, twitching smiles and takes in another lungful of smoke.

Renee nods. "Yea. She is a half-moon and an adult now. Gonna hoveta accept whatever she decides ta do."

Salem looks at the Gnawer, eyebrows rising slightly. "Adult. You've Rited her, then?"

Renee grunts, past a mouthfull of pasta. "Yea. 'Bout fuckin' time too. She managed it. Didn't know if she would, honestly."

"Hm." Salem studies the end of his cigarette again, waiting the thin trail of smoke rise toward the church ceiling. "How are the others doing?"

Renee ehs. "Aiyana still need a fair bit of learnin' ta do. Craig," the Galliard shoots the Walker a very brief look. "Is doing well. Learning stuff fast. Gonna be one of those that ya can Rite pretty face another two ta four months an' he should be ready."

Salem drags on the cigarette again, nodding. "And... that other issue?" He regards her critically, one eyebrow lifted.

Renee scowls, mood souring almost instantly. "Keeps growin'. Leech blood doesn't seem ta have hurt it any."

Salem's eyes narrow slightly. "You have any thoughts about the birth?"

"Oh bugger off," Renee mutters to herself. Looking up, she speaks more directly to the Walker. "Yes. I've been tallin' people thet I'm gonna be leavin' town fer a bit. Found a place ta stay, an' someone ta help. Has some experience in this kinda thing."

Salem studies her for a moment and then nods. "You won't be needing my assistance, then?"

Renee grunts softly. "No. Don't think so. Was gonna start lookin' inta where ta send the kid, but this kinda happened and I ain't been able ta do much."

If Salem's disappointed that the Metis won't be taken into Cockroach's tribe, he doesn't show any sign of it. "Fair enough." He straightens up. "Just out of curiosity, who's going to lead your tribe while you're away?"

Renee hitches on shoulder in a shrug. "Elan. He is livin' here again. Atleast, he says he wants ta take over while I'm gone. Hopin' that he starts showin' his face more often. Rank is only worth somethin' if yer around ta help people."

Salem hmphs, looking less than pleased. "In that, we're in complete agreement. Do you have my cellphone number?"

Renee shakes her head. "No. I don't. Here, one sec." The Gnawer wanders over to the back of a chruch and comes back with a cel phone, that looke like it was made in the late 80s. Its slightly smaller then a brick. "Eb gave this ta me. Still work. Number?"

Salem rattles it off, adding, "In case anything comes up. I have to be going." He takes a step for the door, then pauses, turning back. "When are you going to be going... underground?"

Renee shrugs. "Don't know. When I haveta. Been makin' a show of eatin' like a pig an' complainin' that all the food an' sittin' around is gonna make me fat. So, people have that idea in their heads. Safer, if people already think they know why yer puttin' on weight."

"Misdirection. Right." Salem nods curtly. "Good luck," he adds, and though as aloof as ever, he seems sincere enough. He heads for the door.