It is currently 18:58 Pacific Time on Mon May 16 2005. Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 62 degrees Fahrenheit (16 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.73 and rising, and the relative humidity is 40 percent. The dewpoint is 38 degrees Fahrenheit (3 degrees Celsius.) Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (55% full). Safehouse: Common Area The foyer of this house is set off from the living room with its octagonal bump-out by a four foot high halfwall. Stairs lead up from the foyer, turning and disappearing to the right, and a wooden door with a keycard lock claims the wall opposite the living room. The rest of the main floor is taken up by a small bathroom across the hallway from a dining room which is separated from the kitchen at the back of the house by another half-wall. The decor is decidedly sparse - white walls, beige carpeting in the living and dining rooms and down the hall, unremarkable vinyl in the foyer and kitchen. A used couch and a pair of recliners are grouped around a coffee table in the living room, with a foursome of wooden chairs claiming the bump out for quieter conversation. The dining room boasts a white laminate table with four aluminum and vinyl-upholstered chairs - too new to be 'vintage', too old to be trendy. The appliances and cupboards in the kitchen are new - or at least refurbished to look like it - and a door leads out to the backyard from there. Up the stairs are a number of empty rooms where anyone affiliated with the Sept can crash and an office for private meetings. The Glass Walkers have their own area accessible via a locked door off the foyer. The main doors themselves lead back out to the front porch of the house. "Better safe than sorry," the Galliard offers. She's on the other side of the half-wall from the foyer, leaning back against it with her elbows propped up, while Megan and Jeren have claimed seats. The Ragabash is perched on the edge of a sofa cushion, and Megan is comfortably ensconced in a chair. "She's offered Chiminage too - a fetish. I expect you want to see it?" She's already reaching for a jeans pocket. From the Glass Walker side of the house comes a lank-haired, very stubbly, very tired-looking Thomas Grey, currently in the process of shrugging on a hooded sweatjacket and transferring a pack of Camels and a green Bic lighter to the pockets of same. Megan's interest pricks at Natalie's offer, her attention being diverted briefly by Thomas's arrival. Her eyes narrow, but then she looks back to the Galliard with a nod, straightening in her seat. "Please," she asks in statement, then slides her attention to the Ragabash. "What's it do?" Natalie supplies, "It detects Wyrm." A second of wriggling, and she pulls a simple lupine fang out of her pocket, a thin leather thong dangling from the base. Without noticing Grey's entrance she steps forward, offering the trinket to the Alpha. "The stronger the taint, the darker it turns. And then it needs to be cleared at a Caern during a quarter-moon." Grey's path toward the front door hesitates at the sound of Megan's voice; he looks up sharply, stiffening, his eye lighting on the Adren just as her own attention's going to Jeren. Slowly, he finishes slipping the cigarettes into a jacket pocket, loitering warily. Natalie pages to the room: The desc Jeren giveded to me: This appears to be a simple, pearly white fang, possibly of lupine origins, hanging from a leather thong. To the casual, non-supernatural eye, it would appear to be nothing else but a trinket, possibly purchased in some tourist shop. [Megan] This woman is rather attractive in an Amazonian kind of way. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, with thick auburn hair falling in heavy waves down her back and around her shoulders. Frequent use has sculpted her 5'10" height into a body of strong muscle-definition, long of limb and long of torso, softened only by the definite feminine curves of full breasts and hips, and the inward dip of her waist. Her features display character: fresh, tanned skin stretched cleanly over the sharp edge of jaw, rounding at her chin, across a wide brow and gently sloping cheekbones. Finely arched eyebrows curve over expressive black-green emerald eyes, often found narrowed with keen interest or dreamy in inward contemplation. She is dressed down in a pair of faded blue jeans and an oversized blue and white SCCU sweatshirt that falls to mid-thigh, and a pair of brown leather ankle boots. Check '+detail Megan's info' for other things noticable. Megan gets a fleetingly grateful look as Natalie steps forward that only the perceptive might notice, reaching up to take the purported fetish from her. "Interesting concept for those for whom Sense Wyrm or Sense Balance are unavailable." She looks past Natalie to Grey, briefly, but then looks to Jeren. "So, outside of Dakota, have you met any Garou of the other tribes as yet?" Jeren is being quite well behaved tonight. She remains perched on the edge of the couch, arms folded over her knees, while the other two women discuss the fetish. The next question is met with a very slight amount of hesitation before she replies. "--Quite a few, actually. I've met Stacey, Olga, Kenneth, Jervis, a few of the cubs, erm...and Signe-rhya, Emma, KL, and...Brom." Natalie's eyebrows head up at the recitation; she steps back, tucking her hands behind her back. "That lost cub," she prompts. "--And Megan, you've met our new Philodox cub, haven't you?" Grey's gaze twitches away from the trio of female Garou, a bare moment after Megan glances back his way. He studies the half-wall, then glances to Natalie when the Galliard mentions Cy. Megan nods her head absently to Natalie's question. "Cy, right? I met her--briefly--at the Philodox Moot last week." For the moment, her question to Jeren and the Ragabash's answer is left hanging. "Cy, right," Natalie nods, half-smile quirking her lips. "She's... she's going to be something. And, oh. We're going to send Kevin on his Rite in the next month. I was hoping to get him done before the next Moot, but I didn't want to rush him just for the sake of getting it done." Jeren leans back as the topic shifts away from her, looking just the slightest bit relieved. It's only now that she even notices Grey's in the room--the Walker Philodox is so much more comfortable to look at than Megan is, so she shifts her gaze in his direction. Megan, with the leather thong wrapped loosely amongst her fingers still, steeples her fingers and leans back into her chair once more. "Is the one coming up his third since he was found and went through First Change?" Natalie's eyes go vague for a moment, her head cocking to one side. "--Hmm. He was found in... late December. He decided he wanted to be a Walker in late February. -His- first moot was March. Then there was all that crap with the Get wanting to claim him too..." Her face screws up, and after a second she nods. "Yeah, I think it is. Second since he's been officially claimed." Grey pushes his hands deeply into his pockets, avoiding Jeren's glance -- though, by the slight tighting of his jaw, it's possible that he's well aware of it. Megan frowns thoughtfully, but then jerks her chin down decisively. "Sounds fair, then. Before July, then?" Jeren drops her eyes after a moment. The floor, yes, the floor is interesting. She runs the edge of one shoe tread idly against the carpet. "-Definitely- before July," Nat agrees, her eyes coming back to the here and now and meeting Megan's for a fraction of a second before she too nods. "We want to run Cy through hers in July." "Since I believe this is her first moot," Megan says conversationally, "there's no rush with her." Natalie snorts, her lips twisting up in a half-smile. Her hands swing forward as well, settling into their more comfortable 'default' with her fingers slipped into her pockets. "If we wait much longer than July, she's going to go straight on to Fostern, I think. --But if you'll excuse me, Megan-rhya?" "Certainly," the Fianna says, with a little wave of her fingers, and turning back to Jeren without further do. "Your list sounds like a lot of Garou who frequent the city." Jeren's eyes return abruptly to Megan as the conversation once again shifts to her. "Visitors here," she says. "Mostly. But I've been out to the farmhouse several times now." Grey lifts his eyes from the carpet -- yes, a very interesting carpet it is -- to follow Natalie's progress out. His mouth tightens slightly, but apart from the obvious sleeplessness and a touch of tension, his face is difficult to read. Natalie turns and quietly makes her escape, doing a doubletake once she finally sees Grey standing there. "Your turn to run tomorrow," she tells him in a low voice, then drops him a nod and heads through the Walkers' door. Grey answers the departing Elder with a grunt and a nod, both of which end up directed at her back. Megan is silent for several moments as she studies the smaller woman, before breakinging into a wry half-smile. "I have a mission for you, Ragabash, if you so choose to accept it." Jeren's lips part--a little /too/ quickly, it might be said--but then she shuts them again. Remark swallowed, whatever it was. Instead, she inclines her head and gives Megan a simple, questioning glance. Grey's gaze flicks from the front door, the direction of Natalie's departure, back to where Megan and Jeren continue to converse. He fiddles with the objects in his jacket pockets, then slowly starts toward the door. Megan's eyes narrow as she slides her gaze towards Grey briefly in a measuring look, then looks back to Jeren, the half-smile turning to full. "You have given us a fetish as your Chiminage, one that you likely know better its properties than any here. Now, I would like you to advise me who you think could best use this gift to the advantage of the Sept. I would like you to meet the Garou of the woods, as well as here in the city. Someone who is *not* a Glass Walker. And, if after doing that, you still think its best use would be within your tribe, I want you to tell me the first choice, and convince me, Questioner, as to why you would still think the Glass Walker could use it more." Her eyes hood as the task is laid out. The Ragabash looks, in addition to thoughtful, slightly...intrigued? She rubs the line of her jaw just below her right ear, glances once more toward the retreating Grey, and then back to the Alpha. "Do you have a general time limit in mind," Jeren asks. "Or should I just get it done as soon as possible?" Grey, unmolested, escapes to the open-air and smoker-friendly freedom of the front porch. [...] Safehouse: Porch The front porch of this sprawling, multi-floored house is the decorated centerpiece despite being offset within the footprint, a two-story layer-cake structure replete with several support pillars and decorative eaves in contrast to the clean planes and angles of the rest of the building, the windows of a third story piled on top of that. To the porch's right is the jutting spire of a three+ story, castle-like octagonal tower, complete with tall pointed roof; to the porch's left, the roof decreases gradually in height to an end that is at most a story-and-a-half. Windows abound: down the face of the tower, in every level of the porch, to the two-story unit immediately next to the porch and even a few at ground level far to the end. Access to the porch is reached from seven steps up from a walkway which runs most of the front length of the house, between the porch and the driveway to the house's left. Trees and bushes landscape the front lawn, and a tall hedge blocks most of the eyes of curious onlookers on the main street. There are two discernible entrances to the structure, the most obvious being the twin doors on the front porch, the less obvious being a single door off a much smaller stoop just off the driveway. The footpath running alongside the driveway and the driveway itself lead to breaks in the hedge allowing an exit to the street. Grey is leaning against the porch railing, bent and brooding over a cigarette, his head lowered. Cy shuts the front door behind her and leans against it heavily. "...Fuck," she grunts. She frowns at the half-eaten sandwich in her hand, then crosses the porch to stand a few feet away from her elder. "Oughta have an 'elder alert' alarm or something," she mutters, looking out over the yard. She takes a ferocious bite of bread and roast beef, and chews scowlingly. Grey's head snaps up at the door; he turns as though startled out of deep thought -- or a light doze. The tired eyes blink at her a few times, then turn away. He utters a wordless, noncommital grunt of reply, then inhales smoke. The cub eyes the older Philodox for a moment before hitching her weight up onto the porch railing, where she perches--facing the front yard--and continues to work pensively on her sandwich. Grey watches the cub for a second or two, then drops his eyes to study the half-smoked Camel in his hand; his manner soon lapses back into that distant, fatigued broodiness. There is the sound of a woman's voice on the other side of the door of the house just before it opens, spilling light out onto the porch as well as allowing Megan to pass through it, into the night. She looks at the two halfmoons as she catches sight of them, glinting in the darkness, the smile turning up the corners of her mouth fading a little as she espies Grey once more. "I'm out," she says lightly. "So you can go back in and not feel like I've invaded. I need to head back to the Farmhouse, although, I wouldn't mind getting a chance to talk to you more sometime less formally, Cy," she says, before resuming her journey to the stairs down to the path. Jeren isn't long behind Megan in appearing, though she lingers about the doorway rather than following further. There's a small object wrapped around her right hand--it looks like a tooth attached to a leather string. Grey's eyes flick upward, just long enough to flick onto Megan's face and then away. He shifts himself off his railing-lean and moves a few steps away. Not that he was in Megan's way or anything... he just moves further out of her path with the vaguely skulking manner of an omega wolf. The bright-haired cub blinks over her shoulder at the Fianna, and stops the swinging of her legs from the porch railing. She nods immediately at the woman's suggestion, eyes lighting with enthusiasm--then coughs and looks down at her lap. Megan then looks once more over at the cliath philodox, and says, "Thomas," with a hint of formality as she nods once by way of farewell, then treads down the steps and towards the driveway where her older model Honda Civic is parked. Grey mutters a flat, dull, "Megan," in response to the Fianna; though he leaves off the 'rhya', the duck of his head conveys the proper respect. There's no warmth or enhusiasm in the farewell, though, and he doesn't watch her go. Jeren finally worms her way fully outside, and closes the door quietly behind her. She rubs her thumb against the object in her hand before slipping it into her pocket, and then clears her throat to alert the other two of her presence. Cy, on the other hand, is all eyes on the departing Fianna as she finishes her sandwich. "...She seems cool," she notes through a mouthful of food, to nobody in particular. At the sound of Jeren's throat-clearing, she glances over and lifts her chin, cheeks bulging as she chews. Grey looks dully over at Jeren for a moment, then away. His reply is directed at the cub. "She's a good Judge. You could learn something from her." His attention shifts to the driveway and the road beyond, noting the lack of the Fianna's vehicle, and he starts down that way, slouching. "Going for a walk," he says in explantion, sounding supremely indifferent as to whether the other two protest this or not. "Back later." Watching the older Philodox thoughtfully, Cy calls after him, "Bring me back a pack of smokes?" Jeren offers no protest. She merely offers a finger wave in Grey's direction, before slumping down onto the porch steps. The slight lightening of her mood that resulted from Megan's meeting sure seems to have dissipated quickly. Grey waves a hand vaguely, not looking back as he heads down the driveway and onto the street.