1/18/2005

02:58 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (55% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 56 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the south at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.16 and rising, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 54 degrees Fahrenheit (12 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 14:40 Pacific Time on Tue Jan 18 2005.

13th and 14th Avenues, Uptown
Stately old homes, interspersed with apartment buildings built of brick and only a few stories high, line Osprey Drive, with one block to the west given over to St. Uriel's School and St. Uriel's Church. Small yards are set in front of the houses and other buildings, and old trees tower over the yards to shade them. Southwards, towards Market, an apartment complex takes up most of 13th Avenue, with elaborate landscaping and a fountain in the front. At Market, and south to Four-Leaf Clover, health clubs and high-priced restaurants (with food to justify the prices) are interspersed with small shops selling gold and silver jewelry, or books, or various over-priced luxury items. This residential-commercial north-south pattern continues, westwards, towards 15th Avenue.
Contents:
Saul
Obvious exits:
1354 Osprey Drive Victorian House Stairwell The Oriental Regency Silverton Apartments Across the Sea Collectibles Harp and Starling Bookstore South West East

The weather warmed significantly since the last couple of days, Kenneth makes his way through the street, a large tennis bag in tow and blazer unbuttoned. His hair somewhat damp from the shower in the sports club, he stops in front of a jewelry store, having spotted something which caught his eye.

Saul sits on the sidewalk in front of a fairly large, sturdy-ish Victorian. A large, clunky, expensive-looking laptop is in his lap, wireless card in its slot and he taps away on the keyboard at a frantic pace, a frown creasing his brow at he cruises along the information super-highway at Warp 9. Atleast in his book. Occasionally he looks up from his typing to rest his eyes for a moment and then a tone, chime, or beep from the laptop will bring his eyes back down to the sharp, active liquid crystal screen.

[look Saul]
This waif's large eyes segue from blue to gray with every flicker of the shadows. Sometimes cold steel, others as angry and violent as storm clouds, they provide a window into a soul, which though young, is filled with pain and banked fury. His features, sharp and slightly gaunt, prove that he hasn't been eating well of late. There is no baby fat whatsoever as usually found in children his age. Long arms, legs, and large hands indicate a family leaning to large males, but probably more than one growth spurt has been stalled by the lad's poverty of late. Thick thatch of mahogany and bronze tangles hopelessly shadow his eyes and fall around his head in a mess of curly locks. The back is much longer and is held away from his grimy neck with a piece of chewed string to about mid-back. Dirt has collected beneath his nails from his time of grubbing and running wild. His nose has been broken at least once the cartilage is bent right on the bridge. Scrapes and bruises stripe his arms and legs from countless narrow escapes. A few scars dot his cheeks that look like burns or some sort of markings. An air of barely controlled violence seeps from him like another perhaps more fortunate boy would wear cologne. He stalks on silent feet, with the watchful alertness of one scorned more than a few times. He wears a pair of jeans that look like they had been stolen off the clothing line of a Jenny Craig drop out. They've been pinned up so that the legs fold up a bit to give ground clearance and have been cinched about his waist with a black leather belt. His shirt is a gray, heavy cotton, long-sleeved pull over that looks to be three or four sizes to big for him and constantly has to pull up the sleeves and readjust the neckline. On his feet are tattered and worn in white city trekkers. He carries with him a brown leather satchel that is probably the only thing about him that seems new or well kept.

Kenneth doesn't linger long on the jewlery store's window, seeing the light turn green on his side and allowing him to cross. His walkpath takes him closer to the youth sitting with the laptop. On a sidewalk? He comes closer, silent as a passing cloud and awfully close comparatively to most humans who would be affected by The Curse. He stops behind the boy, checking out the nice screen and tech, and seeing how the clothes the cub wears clearly don't match the price of the notebook. "You know they got libraries where you can sit down an' do your thing."

Absentmindedly looks up at Kenneth, shrugs and then looks back down at the screen which is quickly going through page after page of military hardware. Everything from guns, experimental wetware that's been publishes, and conspiracy theories involving computer viruses, "Ya know, they got people in this country who mind their own business." He looks back down at the screen and then adds, "With all due respect, an' th' like." The clicking takes up its pace once more as he becomes engrossed, paying the stranger no mind. Though from time to time there is a glance over at the pair of shoes Kenneth wears.

"Yeah, your lucky day I'm not one of 'em today," Kenneth smirks right back. His eyes flicker as well, from screen to the youth. "You go to school 'round here? I haven't seen you before, but you look like a freshmen." The Shadow Lord's shoes happen to be a relatively nice pair of Wilsons. The real deal tennis shoe.

"Freshman? I'm twelve." Though he certainly is big for a twelve year old. As if to answer though he brings up a website of a school of online courses for junior highers, "Self education program, dude. No way I'm going to one of those stupid schools with mental retards." He doesn't look up, but his eyes are on the shoes for sure. Another browser window is opened and it immediately has the Wilson website typed on it and the page is brought up along with a few seconds later with windows showing comparable prices for the same shoes Kenneth wears, "Hmmm..." He muses.

Kenneth looks from screen to boy. Twelve was not an age he had Saul figured for, and this probably surprised the philodox. "Hn," he grunts back as reply, passing over whether or not he'd care to include himself in the category of Those Mental Retards. The shoes, Pro Staff Extreme 800s, suggested retail price 79.99. "Dude, before you go lookin' at shoes, you probably wanna get yourself a new set o' clothes."

Saul looks down at his clothes and frowns deeply and looks up at Kenneth, "Do I go 'round insultin' your attire, mister, with all due bloody respect ya get? Huh?" He grumbles and goes back to looking fixatedly at the laptop, "My clothes are just fine, thanks."

Kenneth snorts. "Don't be trippin' man, I just thought I'd give you a heads up 'fore someone else does. Your parents are stiffin' you if they can get you that laptop and not get a sweater that fits proper. But whatever. Have fun." With a roll of his eyes, he starts back off to wherever else he was headed.

Saul calls over to Kenneth at he walks away, "And may the Weaver spirits of all the home appliances have mercy on your soul." He says this and then looks around to make sure no one else was in ear shot and then quickly looks back down at his laptop, making like he'd never said a word at all.

Kenneth slows his walking more than it's gotten already. Looking over his shoulder, a half-smirk crosses his features. "Figures," he grumbles to himself before turning around. "You keep it up and karma's gonna deem it that your soul gets owned by spiders."

Saul keeps on clicking away at his laptop while occasionally glancing over at the stranger, but for the barest of seconds, only to see what he's up to. He looks for all the world like that frown could easily become part of his permanent facial structure he wears it often enough.

Kenneth just stands there for a minute or so, watching the boy work away at the laptop. "So what's your name man?" Figuring he's got time, the philodox moves back over again and stands a little bit off to one side. A glance is sent to the Victorian house behind, his gaze lingering just a little longer than should be usual for one viewing scenery.

Saul shrugs at the question and doesn't answer right away as he typing, but he abruptly stops and looks up, "Saul. Saul Spades. Saul or Spades works. Whatever, dude..." He watches as someone crosses the street to avoid walking around him or near him and he grins at this before he watches a brief movie clip play across the screen.

"Cool, cool," Kenneth nods slowly, watching that same person cross the street without smiling. "Kenneth," he mentions off hand using tone to indicate his intro. "Haven't seen you 'round before. You pass The Test yet?"

Saul frowns once again and lifts his head to look Kenneth over for a minute, "I know not of what you mean." He answers in an obvious mechanical tone. Practiced too many times probably, but this time he doesn't look back at his laptop and instead shuts the lid, letting the computer turn off.

Kenneth shakes his head again, but he smirks. "Guess not. Don't suppose you have a Screen Name that everyone knows you by?"

Saul raises a brow but then nods slowly, "Some people might know by as Hunts the Web. I hang Ah-roun'd some of the wolf cub sites and such. And some other sites that have to do with glass walking. All the rage, ya know?"

"Yea," Kenneth says with understanding, extracting his hand out of his pocket. "My bro, Lucas, was picked up by you skyscraper jockeys, but moved over to my side. My SN's Dagger's Edge, or just Edge. Got popped when the moon was pullin' a half-and-half job." He looks up at the ever so slightly dimming sky. "Bet you get better wireless out here than Out There in crop circle country."

"Totally. Got exiled there for a little bit of a month and was made ta run around like a dog. Damn near killed me. I'll stay human, thanks, unless I'm needin' ta get somewhere fast. But if that's the case, give me a nice Lexus V8. Take anything down short of NOS and a sherman tank. Friggin' A, man." He shakes his head as he stands up from the sidewalk and stretches.

Kenneth can't help but laugh. "I know how that is," he agrees. "I'm more of a nice black 745 myself. How long 'til you get out? They give you a date of execution yet?" The reference being meant for the cub's elders, Kenneth peers over the twelve-year-old almost scrutinizingly.

Saul shakes his head, "You and me both wish, dude. I gotta get outta here. You'd think these people would've heard of technology or something. Most of 'em are backed up to what the Sicilian brothers were up to, ya read? Sheesh. I'm the only one livin' in the now."

Kenneth bobs his head, looking sympathetic. "Whole family's fucked sometimes. How long y'been stewing? Maybe you should bug 'em about deadlines and shit. But you gotta play their game first. Don't think I've heard any of 'em having one up yet."

"Been sittin' here doin' the rounds for about four? Five months. Dunno. Swear I'm loosin' my mind. I've already been buggin' 'em 'nough. Afraid if I push much more that might be the end of Saul."

Kenneth draws a finger over his chin in thought. "You sure you're ready for it?" Here he levels his black gaze on the ahroun.

Saul nods simply and states, "Mad skills."

"Even though you're rejecting the furred side of things?" Kenneth continues, head tilting slightly to a side. "I mean... think of it. What happens if they put you through, and maybe you end up in some... sci-fi world where there's not an electrical plug in sight?"

Saul smirks and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, "Was furry for a month or some. Almost 24/7, except to eat. That's just disgusting. Outright refuse. I figure I got it down pretty good."

Kenneth hrms again. "Well you'd learn real quick to eat whatever there was eventually I'd imagine," he muses aloud. "So what're your plans after you pass then?"

"Pack up." That's pack with a capitol P, "Dunno who yet. Keep gettin' schooled I guess. Get rich. Support The Family, and keep kickin' virtual ass and takin' virtual names."

"If you're still lookin', and if Lucas ain't still sore at your aunts an' uncles," Kenneth starts to say, but decides against it for now. "Keep your options open though. We got spots open, if you're not afraid of teaming up with the Big Bad Wolf."

Saul blinks hard at this and then shakes his head, "That? That's a bit too much of a headache for me, I'm thinkin'. 'Sides, you guys wouldn't need a number cruncher with attitude. You need a karate mo-fo on speed." Though he takes a small backstep towards the house.

Kenneth shrugs. "No tellin' if anyone comin' in knows that sort of thing. What we don't need, though, is someone who'll back out last minute cause they don't like what they see. If you team up with us, you're in it all the way." Yeah, he's actually serious. "Even if you aren't pickin' up that signal though, don't mean we can't hang. Sounds like your crew hasn't gotten to you about my family yet... or you haven't swallowed that pill."

Saul looks around a bit and then looks up at the sky. Darkened. He shakes his head and looks longingly back to the house, "Negatory, but maybe you can tell me 'bout that later. Nat's goin' ta kill me if I'm late for dinner and stuff. Here's my cell." He takes a card that you'd get free off of a website, "Call me up if you need tech help or wanna hang. Oh, and I might bum rides. If you have a ride." He says unabashedly.

Kenneth takes up the card, flipping it over and looking at both sides. "I'm only fifteen man. Can only do the low-tech thing of walking, unless you take the bus." He slips the card into his pocket. "But yeah. See you 'round. Maybe at the next family reunion."

Saul shrugs, "Probably." He offers as he turns and hits the walk up to the house.
Saul pages to the room: Gotta get home or she'll kill me in my sleep. Might be back later.

Kenneth lifts up his tennis bag afterwards, and gives the large house one last look before heading off like the conversation didn't happen.