Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (48% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining. The temperature is 49 degrees Fahrenheit (9 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.77 and falling, and the relative humidity is 97 percent. The dewpoint is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)
Filthy Alley
A grimy brick walled alleyway threading between tumbledown tenement housing for the factory workers and an abandoned strip mall. Stale grey water stands in pools here, and rotting heaps of garbage provide a breeding ground for the rats and ... other things here. The crumbling brick walls have the ghosts of old painted advertising on them, now mostly obliterated by tags and strangely evocative paintings made by the local gangs. Here and there, wires or ancient laundry lines stretch between the buildings, like tendons gone thin and old. A pile of rusting dumpsters almost blocks one end of the alley, and all the doors facing here are either boarded shut or padlocked with signs saying that all property within has been confiscated by the City. A few old loading docks towards the east end provide sleeping pads for winos and mini-arenas for gang kids to combat dance.
Backpack oddly absent, Renee trudges though the alley. Shoulders scrunched together, head down, and hands stuffed into her pockets.
J.C. huddles from the rain in a flimsy shelter made of cardboard, whispering quietly to herself, a low, steady stream of unintelligable words that, blended together, sound like a vague hiss of static. As Renee steps near, she stops, falling silent.
Renee is good at noticing thing, one of the few fators that kept her alive on the streets before she firsted. The sudden silence causes her to pause and looks around, a scowl on her face. She doesn't like the rain overly much and she is cold. After some searching, she spots J.C. in her flimsy shelter. "Room for one more?" She ventures. "Got some food I could share. Not bad stuff, either."
A young girl, with shoulder length dark brown hair and eyes of a similar colour. Standing. Renee is just over five feet tall and you'd probably guess her age to be somewhere between eleven and twelve. What with her flat chest, scrawny legs, and arms. In truth, she is well past her fourteenth birthday. The young girl's hair has been tied back in a french braid, tidying it up and keeping it out of the way. Having lived on the street for quite some time now Renee's appearance has become visibly grubby; her clothes are dirty, her hair is greasy, and she has develped a faint, but distinct odor. She is wearing a plain red t-shirt that is marred by various stains and her legs are covered by a pair of simple blue jeans. One denim knee is intact, while the second one seems to have suffered the brunt of an earlier fall and is badly ripped. The cooler weather has prompted her to put on a winter jacket and her knapsack has deflated accordingly.
Never very far away, is Renee's backpack; Black, with blue designs. Several pencil crayons are visible, through the clear plastic that serves as the backpack's rear pocket.
J.C. squints at the girl suspiciously for a moment, then breaks out into a crooked-toothed grin. "Sure." She scoots a little to the side, making some room; this causes the wobbly, damp cardboard to wobble dangerously, but it holds. "C'mon in."
Renee crouches down and wriggles into the shelter. Part of a shoulder remain in the rain, but she really couldn't care less. Relativly dry is better then nothing at all. "Damn miserable weather," she mutters. "Least we're not further north. Lot colder up there."
"Tell me about it," says J.C., sniffing back a noseful of snot. She wraps her coat tighter about her thin form. "So, what'cha got?"
It takes a certain amount of effort and wriggling around that causes the shelter to wobble dangerously, but Renee manages to pull a plastic baggie out of her jacket pocket. From within it comes the smell of squiched pizza. There are four piece, flattened and disfigured, but less then a day old. "Here," the girl offers, handing J.C. two of the pieces.
J.C. wipes her nose with the back of a gloved hand and grins. "Hot damn." She smushes her two pieces together, cheese-and-sauce bits pressed together like a sandwich. She bites in with relish, chews on swallows. "Mmn." A couple of bites later, she asks, mouth full, "Gotta name, kid?"
"Just' Renee," The girl mumbles past her own mouthfull.
"Mine's Jenny," says the sniffly-nosed woman. "Jenny C."
The girl grunts, tearing the crusts off her pizza slices. Renee leaves then draped over on knee, as she stuff the remainder of the pizza into her mouth. "Nice name," she manages eventually. A swallow, then the food in her mouth is gone. "Wish I had somthin' ta drink," she mumbles, begining to tear the pizza crusts into little pieces.
J.C. swallows, tongue coming out to lick bits of sauce from the corners of her mouth. "Water, water, ev'rywhere," she replies, with cynical humor, then squirms around and digs a plastic Coke bottle from one coat pocket. The label's been torn off, and its half-full with reasonably clear water. Balancing her pizza-wich on one thigh, she unscrews the cap, takes a swig, then offers some to Renee.
Renee takes that bottle and sniffs at the offered water, before taking a swig. "Thanks," she mumbles, handing the coke-bottle back. Hand full of pizza-crust crumbs, she tosses three into the darkness and under the dumpster.
"No sweat." J.C. takes another swig, caps the bottle, and stuffs it back into her coat pocket. She gives the girl a curious look at the crumb-tossing.
Under the dumpster, small forms skuttle about. Taking shelter from the rain and living on the refuse that people throw away. One whiskered face pokes out from under the dumpster, agile hands snatching up the pizza-crumb and transfering it to its mouth before scuttling back under the dumpster.
J.C. grins slightly, showing the tips of of her front teeth, and scarfs down the last of her pizza. "Cute, ain't they?"
Renee ehhs, as the last of crumbs under the dumpster. "Depends on what ya consider cute. I jus' figure they're in the same boat we are. So givin'em some food an beating on the odd cat helps, ya know?" Actually, its because her elders told her to look over rats children, in respect for the Tribes Totem.
J.C. licks at dirty fingers, using her teeth to dig a dry flake of sauce out from under her thumbnail. "They outnumber the humans, the people, ya know," she says.
"Thats cause they're smaller," Renee replies. "More ov'em can fit in one place they we can, that an' they have more babies then we do." The girls nose wrinkles up. "M'glad people donna have tha' many kids. Have enough already."
J.C. sniffs, then wipes her nose again. "No kidding. They're like fuckin' spiders sometimes."
Renee looks over at Jenny, eyes squinting in the darkness. "Da rats, or da people?"
J.C. snorts. "The people," she says, like it should be obvious. She leans forward, squinting at the rain-spitting sky, then shifts back and adjusts some of the cardboard.
Renee ehhs. "Donna think spiders are like people, or rats. There are lots and lotsa bugs around, but atleast ya can aquish'em and rats and eat'em."
J.C. considers Renee for a moment, then shrugs a shoulder. "Can't really squish people, though."
Renee snorts. "Ya kidding? Ya just run'em over with a car. I've seen that happen. If that ain't squished, I donna know what is."
J.C. smirks. "Meant, can't squish 'em without /consequences/."
Renee cover her nose with a hand and sneezes, then wipes the apendage off on her jacket. "If they catch ya, buy ya got a point."
J.C. grins briefly, showing off those crooked, yellowish teeth. "So, how long ya been in town, kid?"
Renee draws her arms into her jacket, attempting to warm up. "Grew up here, not that it matters any."
J.C. sniffs, then makes a rumbly, phlegmy noise in the back of her throat. She swallows. "Been on yer own long?"
Renee thinks about that, scratching at her nose with a dirty finger nail. "Took off in the middle of September, so 'bout three months."
"How ya liking it?" J.C. studies the girl critically, the slight grin on her chapped lips good-natured.
Renee shrugs, looking at the tips of her sneakered feet. "Cold," she states flatly. "Was better 'for it got cold. Hooked up with some folks that ain't half bad an' they feed me mosta the time. An' its a hell of alot better then being yelled at, bein' smacked around, or dodging crap all the time."
J.C. squints. "Yeah, no contest." A shudder runs through her, and she tucks her fingers under her coat and into her armpits. Then she peers outside. "I think it's startin' to let up."
Renee yawns, jacket arms flopping lifeless. "Eh. Donna really care if it is or not. I'm tired." With that, the girl closses her eyes and wriggles around. Soon enough, her mouth is slack and partially open as she snores softly.
J.C. wrinkles her nose thoughtfully, then shrugs. She settles into quiet, watching the rain fall and listening to it patter on their make-shift little shelter. After a few moments, the whispering begins again, barely audible even to Renee, even if the girl were awake to hear it.