The Rialto -- Auditorium(#3319RJ)
The roar of the crowd. The smell of greasepaint. "Now is the winter of our discontent..." An old, darkly nostalgic quality hangs heavy in the air of this empty old theater. Once black-painted windows no longer refuse the light of sun and moon, now broken and open to the city sky.
Largely gutted now, this once gilded and opulent theater spreads like an old grand dame holding desperately to a past now gone and largely forgotten. The plush seats which once held nearly a thousand people are, for the most part, long gone. Time's indifferent hand has dulled the once ornate proscenium arch and faded the velvet red of the main curtain, leaving the wide stage in dark shadows before the gaping and toothless mouth of the music pit.
At the right side of the stage, from the auditorium floor, a door leads toward the back of the theater. To the left of the stage, an old exit sign still glows above a reinforced door. In the back of the auditorium, archways lead back to the lobby and the boarded up front doors.
Contents:
Sarah
Pedro(#4101Jep)
Obvious exits:
Stage Door Alley Door

Yi creaks open a bare corner of the Rialto's musty windows. She isn't expecting company really, as she slips into the darkness of the theatre.

An indrawn breath is the only sound, and even that is quiet.

Yi sneaks her way around a couple of overturned chairs. Evidence that this place must have been cleaned out some time recently. Her quiet steps are practised, and within the pauses the Gnawer stops when she thinks she hears something. Using her ear rather than her eyes, she turns in that direction.

Absolute stillness answers her--but after a moment, she picks out the sound of breathing. The girl is hiding in the shadows of a corner, motionless, watching Yi with dark eyes.

"Who's there?" Yi queries out softly, edging a blade into her palm out of cautionary instinct. "Show yourself." Ever closer, she gets to that sound of breathing. Damn she wishes she could shift, but the Veil is risky.

The girl steps out from her hiding place. Her expression is inscrutable, unreadable, but something in her posture betrays uncertain tension. "Hello."

Yi backs up a pace when the girl comes into a dim light. Shadows playing on both their features, Yi's already dark eyes darken some more. This is new. "Hi," comes the ultimately reflexive answer before a mental beratement follows. "Who are you?" The question is said more querying than demanding, although that tension between them, and the place in general, pulls at the newmoon's nerve.

"A-- a friend of Leonard, and Sashi." Dark hair, as straight as Yi's, falls almost to her lower back; she lifts a hand to tuck some of it behind one ear.

Yi eyewidens at mention of Leonard. But who's Sashi? The asian tentatively steps forward, knife in hand but not drawn. "How long have you been here?" Yi continues questioning, head tilting off to one side so she can get a better look at the girl.

(Look Sarah)
The one unquestionable truth about the young woman is her Native American ancestry. Copper-brown skin, straight black hair, and black eyes, along with the set of her features, tell any observer that much. She doesn't have the round-faced look of the northwest and far northern tribes, but rather the straight-line nose and slightly elongated features of the mid-continent. She is not particularly tall, at about five feet and four inches; her build is lean and fit, neither muscled nor skinny. Attractive by almost any standards, she has peculiar eyes: almost black in any light, and occasionally touched with a reddish-brown when the sun hits them from a certain angle. Those eyes have an intensity about them, as if she sees into things--and when interest sparks in them, they seem to drag the rest of her features into animation. The rest of the time, her face seems inclined toward a watchful, inscrutable expression, masking her mood and thoughts.
She wears loose jeans, hiking boots, and a hooded grey sweatshirt thrown over a Park Services tee. There is a gentle, worn quality to her clothing, as if all of it is older than she is.

"Since this afternoon." Her expression is so blank, so unyielding. "There is a message, from him. Are you urrah?"

Yi finally pushes the knife back to its hiding pocket in her sleeve. She nods once. "I'm close friends with Leonard. What are you doing here? I think he's been looking for you." She straightens, and comes more into the light. "You are kin of his?"

Sarah nods minutely. "What is your tribe?"

A further pause before Yi answers, "Gnawer." Once she's gotten a good sense that she's not going to be attacked, the ragabash offers out a hand. "Yi is my name." After a short inner debate, the newmoon follows with, "We shouldn't stay here. It's not safe."

Sarah lets out a breath, and nods. "Is there somewhere I can stay, at least for tonight?" Her voice is quiet, touched with an odd accent--similar to Leonard's, in fact.

Yi wets her lips with a thought. "Yes. We'll go to where the others gather. Come with me." And with that, the Gnawer turns to head back out of the Rialto, making sure the girl is behind her all the way winding to the safehouse.

Sarah walks after her without speaking--though the level of tension on her movements definitely rises, out on the streets. She brings with her a smallish hiking pack, light enough to carry without strapping the waist belt on. Nothing else.