---------------------------------

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 8 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.88 and rising, and the relative humidity is 89 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Cockroach Mansion -- Downstairs

The heavy, dark opulence to this mansion known as Dominion is perfectly exemplified by the room vistors first enter, this front hall. Dark-stained wood serves as paneling on the walls, gleams with high gloss in the hardwood floor, and supports a semi-circular balcony in carved pillars. The heavy double doors, made of oak, open into the hall from the south, opposite the huge, hourglass-shaped staircase composed of red and black gneiss which soars up to the balcony; both are fenced in with a wooden railing of simple spiraled posts. Several doorways can be made out on the second floor, nearly blending in discreetly with the back wall. The wall to the left of the front doors is composed entirely of windows which run from the forty-foot-tall domed dark wood ceiling to the floor; if drawn, the heavy velvet drapes of deep red would completely mask them from view, but when parted, as they often are, one has a marvelous view of the grounds outside.

A doorway to the right of the front doors leads to a parlor, and towards the back are the kitchens, the large dining room, and Salem's office.

(+views set)

Obvious exits:
Tower Stairway Salem's Office Front Doors

Natalie's parked at the table in the kitchen, eating biscuits and drinking coffee. Every so often she tosses a bit of biscuit toward the baseboards for the roaches. Several sheets of paper, a calculator, and a pencil are also on the table, within easy reach.

Salem comes out of the tower, where he's been holed up in the top room (where Josh was once imprisoned) since some time around dawn. The Walker Elder has, as has been typical for a few days now, a pensive and withdrawn expression on his face, and his eyes are shadowed from lack of sleep. He stops by the kitchen and pauses briefly in the doorway upon seeing Natalie there.

"Morning," Nat greets, hoisting her coffee toward the Elder. "You look like crap. Didn't sleep well?"

Salem:

Jack Salem has the appearance of a man who's survived a tour of duty in hell. It shows mostly in his face, a hawkish visage that's extensively scarred along the left side, twisting keloid making a ruin of aristocratic features. If not for the scars, or for the way his left eye is a blind, dead white, he'd probably be fairly handsome -- in a vicious sort of way. The angles of his face are sharply defined, the nobility in them scoured nearly to the bone. Though his black hair is growing out from the severe buzzcut, his face is still clean-shaven. He looks younger than his thirty years, but his shadowed eyes -- the good one dark brown -- are much, much older.

At six-foot-three, he stands taller than most men, and an inherent athleticism indicates that he could probably hold his own in a fight. There's also an aura of pent-up violence about him, a tightly-controlled rage within the leanly muscled body that could be lethal if unleashed.

He's dressed in a long-sleeved, collarless shirt that's dark red in color, along with the usual faded black jeans and hard-used black combat boots. The brass pocketwatch chain runs from one beltloop into a front pocket.

Salem grunts. "Not really." He stalks over toward the coffee maker in order to pour himself some.

Anthony, having been reading in the parlor for a good part of the morning, heads over to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat, stopping when he notices two people already beat him there.

Natalie swivels to continue watching Salem. "It's decaf. Bad dreams, or what?" With her back to the hallway, the Galliard's unlikely to notice anyone coming in unless they're blowing trumpets.

"Good god, decaf?" Salem grimaces, but pours himself some anyway and then leans back against the counter. "What are you working on?" he asks, completely ignoring her question.

Anthony enters the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water after a bit of digging through cupboards and messing with the faucet. "'Morning, guys."

"Trying to get an estimate of how much concrete I'll need for the greenhouse." Nat taps the pencil against the calculator, fairly easily distracted. "Wha? Oh hey, Tony. Coffee's decaf, if you want any. There's probably a few more biscuits left, too." "--Anyway, yeah. I'm thinking concrete's better than treated four bys, at least underground. I'm just going to put up a perimeter instead of a full foundation, so there'll be that connection to the ground."

Salem gives Tony a nod hello as he sips his neutered coffee. Though he listens to Natalie and nods, he has that look she's probably seen before from people, the 'whatever you say, you're the expert' look. "Any idea when actual construction can get started, or how long it'll take?"

"What kinda frame will the thing have?" Tony asks as he walks towards the table, looking over Nat's shoulder at the calculations and papers and scanning them interestedly.

Natalie obligingly leans away so Tony can get a good look. "Aluminum, with polycarb walls. Soon as it's delivered and the weather's decent. It -might- get here today, but I'm thinking early next week. If everything falls into place, hm. Maybe a week from Monday? I dunno how long concrete'll take to set up in this humidity. Once I've got the specs I can start digging trenches, make the forms..." Yeah, she's as bad as Jeremy. Skeery.

Salem's eyes _do_ glaze over as Natalie goes on, but that could be an effect of the halfmoon's weariness as anything. He nods in all the right places, though.

"Yeah, concrete won't set too well in this weather, but I think it'll be the best bet in the long run and won't cost that much," Anthony agrees, eyes free of jargon-related glaze. He takes a sip of his water and sits down, reading through the calculations more deliberately now.

"Plus better than sticking arsenic in the ground," the Galliard agrees, obligingly pushing all her work toward the Ragabash. "Do you want to look over those numbers for me? I won't have final dimensions until the specs arrive, but." She considers Salem sidelong, then jerks her chin toward a chair. "G'wan, sit. You look like you're about to fall over."

Salem's mouth takes on a sour little twist, but with a grunt he pushes off from the counter and drops himself into a chair at the kitchen table.

Anthony grabs the calculator as well as the pile of papers, spreading them out in front of him and starting to trace through Natalie's work with an attentive fingertip, occasionally pausing to punch something into the calculator. "Could I borrow that pencil?"

Natalie not only hands Tony the pencil, she clicks the lead twice too. Aw. "It's all yours." With the math handed over, that leaves her free to regard her Elder. Nothing like being the center of concern, hey? But instead of sending him straight to bed young man she says, "'Ve you thought what sort of totem you want to follow? I haven't been able to catch Signe, and I still haven't met the others."

Salem's lips thin. He takes another sip of coffee, then sets the mug down. "Ah. As to that, I have to apologize. If there is another city pack, I'm not going to be in it." He looks from Natalie to Tony -- including him -- and back again. "In a couple of weeks, I'm going to be leaving town, and I don't know when I'll be back." His lips thin. "If ever."

Anthony takes the pencil appreciatively and proceeds to busy himself with calculations and sketches; he apparently doesn't pay attention to the new line of conversation, until Salem's last two words. "If ever?" he asks, looking up from the papers. "Why?"

Nat's outburst follows hard on the heels of Tony's. "'Scuse me?"

Salem grimaces, folding his arms across his chest and looking at the pair of them dourly. "I'm leaving town some time in mid-March, and I don't know how long this business will keep me away."

"Where you heading? Somewhere far, I guess?" He pauses to make another calculation. "It looks like two cubic yards of the stuff should be fine, with the excess," he says to Natalie as the papers get pushed back in her direction.

"Leaving who, exactly, in charge?" Natalie demands, wrapping her fingers oh-so-carefully around her coffee cup. "Way I see it, your choices are the Ragabash who's been in town - whadja say, Tony, two months? - two months, the Galliard who's been here just a little over two weeks, or the frickin' Ahroun who ought to be shoved off on the Get, except I respect Signe too much to do that to her. Plus the bastard isn't even Rited yet."

Making his way down the stairs is Jeremy, having been upstairs talking on the phone in the room he designated as 'his'. Hopping the last step, he makes his way to the group in the kitchen, arms folding over his chest, raising up a brow. "Hey guys." He says, offering a quick smile to them.

Salem smiles tightly, humorlessly. "Welcome to the history of the Glass Walkers of St. Claire, Natalie. In regards to the eldership of the tribe, you can sort it out amongst yourselves." He glances over as Jeremy arrives, then turns back to Natalie, staring at her directly. "_Whoever_ takes over ought to remember, though, that Rina and Jeremy have been serving the tribe here longer than any of them... and Rina longer than even me."

Anthony takes a drink of his water, then puts the glass aside, looking somewhat worried as he slouches onto the table and rests his chin on his forearms.

Natalie eyes Salem right back... then turns her head, breaking eye contact. "Yeah." Cue one unhappy Walker. "So where are you going? That, at least, I - /we/ - got a right to know. If I'm gonna be the damn Galliard, I'm damn well gonna /be/ a Galliard and let everyone know where you're going."

Jeremy blinks his eyes a bit and looks caught off guard by that remark. He clears his throat and slightly wettens his lips. "And.. you will keep in touch as well, so that we can get ahold of ya in case of an emergency?" He asks.

Salem unfolds his arms, resting one hand on the table as he leans back. "Portland, eventually. And, yes, I will be in touch in case of emergencies."

"Oh! Jack, when you do go back, tell my parents I said Hi." Jeremy says in a rush. "You know, let 'em in that I haven't got killed yet or anything and whatever... just... leave out the Gothic part."

"Oh, okay, so it's not /that/ bad," Tony says, looking somewhat relieved, sitting up again. "The way you were talking, I thought you were like headed to Tibet or something."

Natalie pushes herself back from the table with far more force than Salem. That's not enough, so she gets up to stalk to the far end of the kitchen, her arms folded stubbornly over her chest. "Says you, Tony. /You're/ not gonna end up fucking Tribal Elder when he shoves off."

Salem gives Jeremy a thin, tight smile and a nod and then snorts at Tony. "Do I _look_ like a Stargazer?" Then he turns somber, narrowed eyes onto Natalie. "It's not that hard," he tells her, blandly. "A little personal initiative, the strength of your convictions, and the ability to listen to your Family. _All_ of your family. The rest..." He smiles in a humorless, bitter kind of way. "The rest is Image."

"Shit, I could pull off Tribal Elder easy enough, so could Rina. Its all about talking the talk and walking the walk, and making sure you got the support behind you." Jermey says with a roll of his shoulders. "What was that Roger told me last...." He trails off slightly in thought. "Even though you may not have fangs, doesn't mean you can't bite?"

Anthony frowns crossly at the declarations pointed at him, dropping his chin back onto the table and studying his glass of water.

"You need the fangs to deal with the rangers, though," Salem points out, nose wrinkling. "Brute force is all that some of them understand."

From the safety of the other side of the room, Nat stares dourly at the Elder, her lips pressed oh-so-closed over anything she might say.

"True enough, which is why you are good at being the Elder here." Jeremy says with a chuckle. "Because no one wants to mess with your fangs."

Salem smiles tightly. He gives Nat a glance then takes up his coffee mug and drains it. "So. As I said earlier, I'm in the middle of teaching the Rite of Passage to Signe and will leave sometime after that's completed. Probably in mid-March. That gives you all plenty of time to prepare."

Anthony just nods a little, still slouched over the table.

Natalie mutters, "Happy birthday to me," under her breath. Then louder, "You're gonna sit your butt down and tell me - us - everything that's going on, right? No way in hell are you skipping out of town, leaving me holding the bag and not knowing anything." Plainly someone's already elected herself Elder-to-be.

Jeremy bobs his head a bit slightly, then lets out a slow breath, offering up a quick breath. Glancing to Natalie, he raises up a brow slightly, but doesn't press the issue.

Salem folds his arms across his chest again. "Everything in what sense?"

Anthony sits up, turning around in his chair to face Salem. "Whatever you think it'd be useful for us to know," Tony says with a slight shrug, glancing sideways at Natalie.

Natalie repeats firmly, "Everything. Like what the hell's going on with the Hospital that nearly made you take Alicia-rhya's head off yesterday." She uses the honorific deliberately, adding a little twist that's designed to prick. "Dammit, Salem, there's no way in hell I could challenge for Fostern, not here, not now."

"John was tribal Elder and he was as Cliath. So was Daisy, and Salem until he challenged." Jeremy notes as he pokes around at his PDA some with a clear of his throat.

"Then don't," Salem replies, without sympathy. "I had to step up to be the fucking _Sept Alpha_ before I'd challenged for Fostern, because there was no one else to do the fucking job. So don't speak to me about _that_ kind of stress." The half-and-waxing moon, plus the obvious lack of sleep, are trying the Philodox's temper. Pushing back his chair, he gets up. "By the time I leave, I'll make sure you know everything I do about this city and about the various hot spots within it. I'll give you a lowdown on each one of the local Elders and notable Garou. What I don't know, I know who to go to who _does_." He gives Jeremy a significant look, then turns his gaze back to Natalie.

Jeremy glances upwards slightly as Salem looks his way and slowly nods his head. He taps his nose, points at the Elder, then goes back to his PDA.

Anthony rubs his forehead, looking mildly irritated at not being included in the discussion of to-be-elder-ly things, though he doesn't press the issue beyond pouting a little.

Once again Nat holds Salem's eyes for a moment - not challenging this time, but as if trying to peer through and read the words written on the back of the man's skull. "...All right. I still wanna know what you're planning on doing about Joshua, though. Doesn't haveta be now."

"Simple. Joshua either passes his Rite, or he dies." Salem takes his empty cup to the sink, rinces it out, and puts it into the dishwasher. "I hear he's been showing some anti-city tendencies. If that continues into his adulthood and he won't wake up to his proper duty as a Glass Walker, he gets kicked out. Let him join the fucking Wendigo if that's what he wants." Finished with this task, he turns back. "But he still has to survive his Rite of Passage first... and there's no guarantee that he will."

"The same with Cat? Or is he gonna get a little more leeway?" Anthony asks before finishing off his glass of water.

Natalie shakes her head and studies the floor. "Man, I hate to say this about a cub, but... I hope he doesn't. Gaia knows we can't afford to let any of 'em die, but... damn. He can't say three sentences to me without making me want to rip out his eyes and shove 'em up his nose to look for brains."

"You seem to get along with Katrine just fine. I think you won her over." Jeremy notes with a shrug of his shoulders.

Salem smiles another of those humorless smiles of his and then arches a brow at Tony. "Cat? I have no doubts about Cat. He'll make a fine Glass Walker. Hell, he already has an affinity with some cockroach spirit. Ask him about Gabriel sometime." He looks the three of them over again. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the back."

Salem disappears into the office at the back of the house.

"Katrine," Natalie points out, not acknowledging Salem's exit, "Both has brains and isn't afraid to use them. You can't say either about Joshua. I might just talk to Trevor while he's gone and see if there's a way to boot someone out of the Tribe without their say so."

Anthony is surprised at this evaluation of Cat, but he nods and waves to Salem as he heads off to wherever-it-is-Salem-goes before standing up and picking up the empty glass. "Well... Josh isn't really /that/ dumb," Tony says, playing devil's-advocate.

Jeremy rolls his shoulders a bit and clears his throat. "There really isn't. The choice to leave a tribe is by their own hand." He also mentions. "The Gnawers have a ritual they call.. black balling. Its where they tie a fetish around one's neck and mark them as Ronin. The fetish is bound and can't be removed."

"I'll talk to Trevor," Nat repeats, not even glancing Anthony's way. "Or maybe that Gnawer, Craig. I don't want him Ronin, though, just... out of here. He doesn't want us? We don't want him. Simple enough." She kicks a foot backwards against the cupboard doors. "Damn him." The curse is delivered drily, almost abstractedly.

Jeremy clears his throat slightly and grows silent, glancing over to Anthony for a moment. His nostrils flare slightly in frustration, then pushes himself off the wall.

"Well, I guess we'll find out if he'll even still be around by ... well, tomorrow," Anthony says, putting his glass in the sink. "Unless you wanna go bust him up a little first or something, nothing we can do but wait and see what happens."

Natalie snorts. "Salem's philodox. Honor's everything. So if he says he's not leaving until mid-March or Signe's learned Rite of Passage? Then he's sticking around until then." Why yes, Nat -is- on a different page. Brooding.

"I meant Josh," Anthony clarifies, a bit confused by the mention of the elder. "His Rite's tomorrow, I think."

Jeremy nods his head. "His Rite is tomorrow." He says softly with a clear of his throat. "Going off with Cat an all..." Yawning into his hand, he turns and begins to wander to the door. "Well, whatever you guys decide, you know where to find me and I'll getcha'll up to speed."

Nat says, "...Oh." She manages a sheepish almost-smile for both men. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm... I think I'm gonna go for a drive. I think there's a punching bag out there somewhere with my name on it."

"Yeah, Cat and Emma," Anthony says, nodding as well. "Yeah, I'm gonna get back to reading, now," he says, following Jeremy out of the kitchen.

"Later guys." Jeremy says, climbing up the stairs to the second story again, yawning once more.

"Thanks for double checking my numbers," Nat offers further, waving a hand toward her work. "I, um... damn. I gotta go work off some of this... I need to go. I'll catch you two later, all right?"

"Okay," Anthony says before passing Jeremy and ducking out into the hallway.

[End of log]