1/27/2005

04:36 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (83% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.90 and steady, and the relative humidity is 93 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Harbor Park -- The Meadow(#194RJ)
One of the last bastions of green left in the city, mottled and withered grass and weeds covers the earth like a badly stained carpet, with the construction work turning what is left into just bare dirt. The vegetation seems marginally healthier the further it is from the river and much healthier towards the central area of the park around the fountain. Construction work is ongoing here: a raised earthen berm about five feet tall is being built all around the park perimeter, with two breaks each at the Bridge Street entrance and the First Street end. Wooden posts are being erected at regular intervals all along the earthen wall, while tasteful iron gates and fences are being added at the entrances. Overpowering the scent of living vegetation are the exhaust fumes from a busy street to the west and an unpleasant stench from the Columbia River to the east. From the street view or river view, the park is now isolated, as if it existed apart from the city. People in tall buildings have an excellent view of any goings-ons for now, though. In the center of the park, a small glade of six tall trees and a flower bed surrounds the fountain.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire.
Contents:
Dillen
Obvious exits:
Bridge Street Fountain First Street River

In one of the final refuges for greenery in the city, various people make their way around the construction fences erected around the park. Not many of the citizens actually enter, but one has and he lies one his back upon the mottled, weedy grasses, black jacket spread beneath him to keep the rather pinprick tips of the blades from poking him much. Kenneth stares up at the sky, a blank look upon his features mirrored by the lazy movement of the clouds above.

Dillen comes into the park, meandering as the case may be. His steps take him through the middle and as he walks he notices a familiar face. His steps take him over to Kenneth and he plops down next to him. indian style. "Hey." He says quietly.

Kenneth doesn't break his stare up at the clouds, but neither does he ignore the Get. It's obvious he's aware of his surroundings. "Hi," he replies, sounding levels more subdued than he was during the moot, and yet still with a touch of restless nature.

Dillen raises a brow. "You okay, man?" He looks over at his packmate.

Kenneth still sports some injuries visible by the look of his arms - some not too natural bite marks that would draw up inner questions. "I'm fine," he answers the Get. "Just thinking."

Dillen nods to himself. "Met a lost cub today... Named Kevin. Thinking about being a Get." He rests his hands on his knees and leans forward, plucking a piece of grass and shredding it.

Kenneth grunts, a no-comment version of a reply. "Worth the trouble?" asks the halfmoon. "I met a cub too, named Saul. One of the Walkers'." A small variation in his voice tells of the underlying tension he carries in mentioning the Walkercub.

Dillen shrugs. "Could be. He's also thinking about being a gnawer." Dillen looks back up to the sky. "Got in a fight with Joey over it."

"You're kidding." Kenneth still doesn't take his eyes off the sky. "What's there to fight over?"

Dillen takes a breath. "Basically, the kid said he had troubles with shifting, so I tried to make him mad. Just happened that Joey got all pissed off at what I was saying." He shrugs slightly. "Her problem."

Kenneth's expression doesn't change, even as he continues to converse with his packmate. "What'd you say?"

Dillen flops back on the ground. "Told her I was trying to get him to shift and she got all mad and walked out."

Kenneth then slowly sits up, shaking his hand through his hair in order to loose any grass bits that've clung to him. "I mean, what'd you say that got her mad in the first place?"

"That Kevin could join the Get and be great... Or join the Gnawers and be along the lower ranks." Dillen sighs. "The gnawers are looked down on by everyone. You know that."

Kenneth stops his hand through his hair, lowering the limb down. Not once has he looks at his packmate, instead gazed out towards the sluggish river that borders the park. "Not as much as they look down on Us," he returns with finally a touch of bitterness. "But not like it matters anyway."

Dillen turns his head to look over. "I don't look down on you. I can't. My life is in your hands. I trust you." He takes in a deep breath. "We are pack and we are there to work together. Don't care what Jarred says."

Kenneth snorts at the Get. "Come off it. Working together... fuckin' Coggie bull. We just do what needs to get done. Fuck the rest of the philosophical bullshit." Deep anger wells in the halfmoon's words, sour and brooding.

"So we are a pack without a plan? Dude. If we don't trust each other then we are missing something." Dillen growls at the other. "Get over yourself. You may just have to depend on me and trust me to maybe save your life." Dillen rolls his eyes. "Not bullshit either. Chose you two because you are strong and will make me great."

"The truth comes out," Kenneth growls out, head slowly turning from the river to face the galliard. "Because we will make you great, hunh? That's my role? To be the rock that you step up on?" The words get tighter, as do his shoulders.

Dillen reaches over and punches Kenneth in the shoulder. "Dude. What do you think? Yeah. We will all be great... But it is also because you are my friends." He sighs and lowers his head. "Call it coggie bullshit or whatever..."

Kenneth nearly snarls with the hit, though it doesn't hurt physically. He rises up to his feet and a grab for his jacket on the grass, snatching it up and giving the Get a sour look. "It is." Ripping his eyes off the Get, he turns and starts towards the fountain.

Dillen gets up to his feet and punches Kenneth again, "Dude. Will you get off the grump wagon?"

Kenneth this time expects the strike and dodges before the fist can connect. His fist that clutches his jacket tighens. "Don't Fuckin' touch me. I'm not in the mood for it today." The Shadow Lord again turns towards his intended destination, the air around him seemingly crackling with anger.

Dillen rolls his eyes and growls under his breath. "Fine. Be that way." As he turns and begins to walk in a different direction. "Do Lords just always get PMS or something?" He mutters as he shoves his hands into his pockets and goes off the opposite direction.

After a few more steps, Kenneth stops. "Do all Get talk about sharing and caring?" he retorts aloud, one black eye staring over his shoulder at the galliard.

Dillen turns and shakes his head. "Nah. Not with someone they don't give a damn about and could care less if they die." He shrugs. "Not saying any shit like that. Just saying I trust you assholes with being my mates in a fight."

Kenneth clenches his jaw, turning away and glowering towards the fountain. "You shouldn't throw out your trust so easily."

Dillen gives Kenneth a really hard look. "So you are telling me that you will screw me over?"

Kenneth turns halfway, black eyes like gleaming daggers. "All I'm saying, is that outside of fighting together... we've got no reason to be 'friends'." The quotation marks are audible.

"Wow." Dillen says and blinks some. "All right then." He turns and moves to walk away, shaking his head as if someone just hit him with a sledgehammer.

Kenneth simply watches the Get turn and walk away, the Rage that clouds his stare dimming with each step the galliard takes away from him. Then with a loose, angry growl the philodox turns back towards the fountain. Brow furrowed down, the halfmoon contemplates the merit of his actions, and his words.