Cockroach Mansion -- Upstairs

The dark opulence of the mansion's decor continues into the upper floors, where rooms are numerous and hallways are long. Most of the rooms are empty and haven't been opened for years; only a few are furnished and even fewer actually occupied. Still, the hardwood floors are in good repair, and the hallways are well-lit.

Contents:
Cat

Obvious exits:
Mel's Room K.C.'s Room Master Bedroom Downstairs

Natalie's - Rina's - room door stands open, rummaging sounds coming from within. There's a suitcase, yawning open, on the bed. Further in the room Nat's at the dresser, tossing items of clothing toward the bed.

Cat's walking down the hall towards his room, presumably, when the open door and noises catch his attention. He slows, unable to keep himself from grabbing a glance inside.

Cat

He's fifteen years old, but he looks twelve, and at times acts eight. His almost white-blond curls are curlier and more windward than ever, tendrils dangling in his eyes and over his ears. With his too-thin body and big round eyes, he looks like a child refugee, and from far away he might be mistaken for a girl. His eyes are a brilliant blue-green shade, a shock of color on his naturally pale face.

The boy has new clothes. A black, fitting T-shirt that says "Pigeons + Chili = No" in white letters; dark blue stonewash jeans that are slightly too big and held up with a cheap brown belt; and the coup de grace, a flowing black trenchcoat. Oddly enough, he wears it all with a thick air of confidence. A silver cross dangles around his neck.

A sturdy bit of white fabric, too small to be a shirt, goes flying across the room. The Galliard watches its flight, bumping the drawer closed with one hip, until it lands just shy of the bed, on the floor. With a sigh she goes after it, not noticing her observer until she's straightened up. "...Cat. I see you got those new clothes. Looking good."

The effect of the compliment is not lost on him, although he doesn't exactly smile; more like tinge pink at the ears. "Are you leaving?" the theurge asks curiously.

Natalie snorts as she jams the fabric into her suitcase. "Nah. I've been tempted, but... Figured it was time I moved down into the bedroom by the office. No point in me taking up someone else's room when Salem's so kindly vacated that one for me."

Cat eyes what the Galliard's holding in her hands before she puts it away, although he doesn't seem to register what it is. "Salem-rhya's gonna come back soon, though," he points out. "You're only Elder for a little while?"

"Hell if I know." She turns in place, giving the room a thorough once-over, then snorts to herself and zips up the suitcase in a series of sharp yanks. "From what it sounded like to me, no, he wasn't coming back. And let me tell you how thrilled I am about that." There's enough sarcasm coming off her to float a battleship. "...Which reminds me. I hear you told Salem the story of your Rite. That true?"

"...Uh-huh. Why?" Cat shoves his hands into his trenchcoat pockets and very nearly glares at Natalie like the miniGoth he is; at least, through Jeremy's doing. "An' you're wrong about Salem-rhya. He'd never leave for good."

"S'not like I can't come back and fetch it," Nat mutters to herself, dragging the suitcase off the bed. She carries it as if it were of no consequence, heads for the door. "'Why' is because I'd like to hear it myself. I should know as Galliard and as Elder. 'Scuse me." She doesn't expand on Salem's hypothetical return.

Cat swishes out of her way, eyeing her as she heads down the hallway and for the stairs. "You've heard it from Joshua, an' I told it to Salem-rhya, and Arrows already got his permission to go," he tells the Galliard nonchalantly. "My version won't be any different."

Natalie pauses at the top of the stairs, fixing the Theurge with one squinting eye. "Let me rephrase that. You're going to tell me about your Rite of Passage. That make things more clear?"

The rebellious streak that had surfaced briefly fades again, although it's clear Cat's opinion of Natalie and the female gender in general are being cemented. "Yes, Natalie-rhya," he replies in a tone so soft and polite that it would've been interpreted as mocking, if it came from anyone other than Cat.

Natalie says, "Thank you." She takes the first step down the stairway, then sighs and sets the suitcase down on the floor. Turns back to the boy. "Look, Cat, I know I'm a bitch. I know I'm not Salem. I don't expect everyone to love me to death with bunnies and flowers and little pink anime hearts, and I want to be Elder just about as much as everyone else wants me to be Elder. Imagine, just for a minute, how loved and welcomed that makes me feel, all right?"

The boy looks back at her impassively. "...And?" he prompts slowly, still not looking very convinced.

"And it would be nice to be treated like a real person, that's what." She stoops for the suitcase, then straightens without it. "And it would be nice for me to be able to make requests, instead of having to issue damn orders all the time. But you know what? I ask - and I ask nicely - and people blow me off. Then they get all whiny when I resort to stomping on necks." It's not clear anymore if she's venting about the Theurge in particular, or if somehow other people have entered this fray.

Cat seems loathe to speak (what else is new) but grudgingly, gives the woman an opinion. "Sometimes it doesn't have anything t'do with the way you ask things," he tells her softly, that half-frown stamped on his face that's quite reminiscent of the former elder. "I wanted to do well to make Miz Rina and Salem-rhya proud, not because they asked're ordered me to. People'll be nicer t'you when they feel like they want to do what you want them to do." And then he blinks, quite surprised at his own words.

Natalie blinks back at him, considering. "And what," she asks more calmly, just as if she were talking to a fellow adult, "Would you suggest for when they don't want to do it? Because that seems to be my problem here. No matter what I ask, whoever it is I'm talking to has something better to do, or some reason why they shouldn't do it."

The blond boy bites his lower lip, and definitely looks like he's listening to something far off. "Tell them why it's important that they do what you asked them. Make them feel important." Cat pauses. "People want to be important. If you threaten, nonthreateningly, to give something of importance to someone others see as lesser, they will compete to curry favor and achieve tasks of importance."

Natalie says, "...I was following you up until the threaten nonthreateningly bit. Try that one again?"

Cat's thinking awfully hard, brow furrowed as he concentrates on explaining what he obviously sees as simple. "Manipulate," he says finally, triumphantly. "Give something important to someone who doesn't deserve it, and those who do deserve it will try harder. Or... they'll get disillusioned." He shrugs, scratching behind one ear. "Depends on the personality involved."

One corner of Nat's mouth quirks up in a wry smile. "It'll either work or blow up in my face, huh? Well, a girl can't ask for more, I guess." She studies the young Theurge for a moment, head tilted to one side. "What's your name, anyway? ...Not Cat, I know that one."

The boy switches gears again, looking at the Galliard like a deer in headlights, hand frozen behind his ear. "It is Cat," he says softly, guardedly. "Salem-rhya helped me change it, after he found me. Cat Ha- Hopkins."

"What's your deed name," Nat presses, though perhaps more gently than she would have five minutes ago. Certainly more gently than the last time she asked him this question. "What are the Garou to call you now that you're an adult?"

"Salem-rhya said he liked Cat," 'Cat' tells her hesitantly- almost afraid to disappoint her. That wouldn't have been a concern five minutes ago either. "An' that he wasn't good with names. Daisy-rhya used to be Cat-Killer," he offers helpfully.

Natalie chuffs laughter. "Whoever Daisy is. Huh. I'm not great with names either, but maybe we can work something out..." A thought strikes her, her eyes flashing vague. "There's a poem... something about... Night comes softly on little cat feet." The boy comes under her gaze again. "What d'you think of that? Night-Comes-Softly? A little too frou, maybe?"

Cat's eyeing his feet, which aren't particularly small, in his opinion. "I don't know who Frou is," he adds after a moment's thought, although he doesn't seem overly excited about the name. "Cat's fine. Salem-rhya didn't have a wolfname for a very long time." Then he pauses. "Though he does now, huh."

"Frou," Nat repeats, fingers fluttering in demonstration. "Frou-frou. Uh, like too much lace. Frilly. Eh, I don't know. Night-comes-softly doesn't really seem like a name for a Walker." She stoops once more, and this time the suitcase comes with her when she straightens. "You think about it, huh? Your name doesn't have to come from what you did; it can symbolize who you are, or who you want to be. I decided on Holds-The-Line because I'm stubborn as hell. When I decide to put my foot down..." She lets her shrug finish her sentence. "Anyway, I'm gonna go move this stuff downstairs before supper. You come find me sometime, all right? You're OK to talk to." ...definitely approving, that.

Although the wiggling fingers demonstrating 'frilly' get a raised brow from the boy, Cat watches her descend with the curiosity expected of his namesake. "...You too," he calls after her, the soft and polite farewell somehow warmer than his last agreement with her. He turns around the corner and heads back to his room. Girls were still awful, no doubt, but most of the taller ones, like Rina, Natalie, and Rhiannon, weren't too bad.

[End of log]