Sorry Salee

8/15/2007

03:52 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing New Moon phase (15% full).
It is currently 15:47 Pacific Time on Wed Aug 15 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is mostly sunny today. The temperature is 84 degrees Fahrenheit (28 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the north at 6 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.85 and falling, and the relative humidity is 25 percent. The dewpoint is 45 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Farmhouse: Fields
What once was worked cropland has been, over the last several years, allowed to go to seed, and the result is the natural prarie which has developed, enclosed on three sides by the forest. It covers several acres of land with grasses as high as a person's waist, large enough to be out of earshot of the barnyard but uniform enough that anyone in bipedal form could be seen approaching through it.
The looming buildings of the farm can be seen to the south.
Contents:
Salee
Obvious exits:
BarnYard  

[look Kenneth (homid)]
Kenneth is what most formally call a young man, tall, lean and attractively featured. At 5'11", his build is untimidatingly muscled and highly athletic with clean lines and good proportions. His dark hair is long, looking ragged at the edges in a way that is windswept and wild. The forelocks lurk forward, tips hanging just over his eyes in a way that accentuates the usually features and shape of his face. At first impression, he may seem completely Asian by heritage, but at a more direct glance, there are a few traits that hint at a mixture of bloodlines both Western and Eastern. What stands out underneath the mild slants of his eyebrows are his nearly black eyes that rarely highlight with a grey color in strong lighting. The cold neutrality of his gaze is of one that wishes to prove the worth of their existence, but more than anything makes him seem alone. And not necessarily approachable right off, there is a bearing of wildness to him like an animal's alertness, a predatorial awareness that enshrouds the atmosphere around him.
Dressed casually, Kenneth has on a white, collared button-down shirt left open and hanging out, its ends starting to fray. It covers over a thin black tanktop and accompanies a pair of dark blue jeans and white Adidas shoes. On colder days, he has a black, inner-lined long coat which serves as protection from the weather.

[look Salee (homid)]
A teenaged girl standing about five-and-a-half feet tall peers at her surroundings, as though she wants to take in everything and memorize it. Her appearance is rather frail, fragile. Her limbs are long and slender, almost to the point of being bony. But as stark as she is in body, her face is the opposite. Her features are soft and delicate, with high cheek bones that accentuate her pale green eyes quite nicely. Deep red hair, a shade so natural, but so perfect it had to have come out of a bottle, frames her pale face, cut in layers that brush her shoulders.
Chocolate-coloured leggings hug skinny legs and a pleated, camo print skirt, trimmed with white lace, falls to mid-thigh. Under a matching army green crop jacket that hangs open is a black tanktop with distressed lettering screened on, reading: The Angels Have The Phone Box.

The day is still hot, and as such comes one Shadow Lord philodox seeking shade and perhaps a drink. His approach towards the farmhouse is from the odder angle, though. Instead of coming up the lane, he journeys through the fallow fields behind it. The sun shines down on his exposed shoulders, as his white shirt is currently tied around his waist.

Never one to disappoint, or perhaps disrupt, Salee has chosen the fields of the farmhouse as the locale for her musical pursuits today. Eyes closed and seemingly oblivious to the world around her, she plays an upbeat, fast-paced song.

Kenneth makes no attempt to approach silently or stealthily, catching sight of the violinist off a ways from his view. The philodox slows his stride to a stroll, listening to the song as she plays. Perhaps taking advantage of her oblivion, though, he swings his path so that it conducts an intercept. Like a shark circling in, the halfmoon winds his way over until he's close enough be within a decently conversational distance without raising one's voice too much. And again, he waits for the song to end or pause before clearing his throat to signal his presence.

Green eyes slowly open as the last note carries on the wind. Salee seems a little startled by Kenneth's presense. Not because she hadn't known someone was there, but because she hadn't expected it to be him standing there. She seems to tense up every muscle as she studies his face for any inkling of what to expect from him.

"You play well," Kenneth remarks as his first 'greeting' to the cub. Noting that tension in her muscles with a flicker of his dark eyes over her, the philodox in contrast remains calm. Silence inserts itself in between them. His fingers fiddle with the knot of his shirt tied about his waist. It seems like he has more to say, but is refraining from it.

Salee doesn't say anything in return. She crouches down carefully to stow her violin away in its case, but her eyes never leave the other Garou.

Kenneth, though, does look away and off towards the farmhouse a moment before turning back. "Listen," the halfmoon says after a slow turn of continued silence. "About that last time..." He finally unties the shirt from around his waist, hands holding on to the sleeves. "I don't normally... do stuff like that. You're smart, got a good head. And, it wasn't my place."

Salee jumps back as soon as the words leave Kenneth's lips. It isn't until the meaning sinks in that she starts to relax. "Don't," she breathes softly. "Don't apologize to me." She straightens up, case clenched tightly in both hands.

"Why not?" Kenneth counters, hands around his shirt sleeves twitching and tightening. "I didn't show you the respect that I should've. I said it wasn't my place, and that's what I mean. You're a Walker cub, not a Shadow Lord cub. There's... lines we don't cross."

"Does that mean if I had been a Shadow Lord, you wouldn't have had to apologize? That it would have made it right?" Salee takes a small step back. "The Litany's kind of conflicting on matters of respect, I think."

Kenneth starts to tie that shirt back around his waist, but pauses in doing so at her question. Another few seconds of silence tick past. "No," he answers. "If you'd been a Shadow Lord, that whole... incident... wouldn't've happened to begin with." He seems set on his belief of that. That black gaze looks up from the shirt sleeves to the girl. "The Litany says to respect those beneath you. But it also says to submit to those higher in station. It says to respect the territory of another. To accept honorable surrender. The point is," he bites off, trying to insist or will it so, "it won't happen again. And on a purely one to one basis, if you feel like punching me right now to even the score, I accept and won't stop you from doing so." His hands finish tying the shirt again.

"I wouldn't be able to come even close to evening the score," Salee says softly, almost bitterly. "You don't think I'm Shadow Lord material." It isn't a question.

Chin tilting slightly, Kenneth squints his eyes at the girl. "Didn't say you had to do it in homid. Hell, shift up and hit me with your hardest shot." Her other words, though, widen those eyes back to their normal size. He blinks at her. "I didn't say that either."

"I don't know how," Salee says firmly. "I'm not going to hit you." She rocks back slightly, as though considering just walking away. Then, she stares sharply at the other Garou. "You meant every thing you said to me back then, though, didn't you?"

Kenneth's eyes squint a touch again. "I did," he answers her with a prouder tilt of his chin. "You're not weak. You got smarts. You got talent. You could excel at what you can do - if you would just get over those hangups that you /know/ are holding you back." The Shadow Lord folds his arms over his chest, gazing direct. "That's what a Shadow Lord is - a Garou who recognizes strength and weakness, in himself and in others, and finds a way through adversity and overcomes. You begged your parents to let you learn how to play the violin, but you didn't give up the first time they said no, did you? No, you kept at it until they gave in. That's guts a'plenty."

"And no matter how many times you tell me it's stupid, I'm not going to give up my routine." Salee shifts her stance just a bit and she may as well be changing her entire attitude. She stands a little taller. Looks just a little more determined.

Tapping a finger on his arm, Kenneth tilts his head at her, brow arching in question. "What routine would that be? Telling me you don't know how to shift?"

Salee narrows her eyes. "You, sir, are impossible." She turns her glare away from him, surveying the fields. "I was talking about all those things you said to me the other day. You know, before you tried to knock my face off."

Kenneth narrows his eyes right back, although he doesn't say anything in immediate reply. His gaze shifts towards a distanced look, like he's filtering back to find the meaning and memory. When he snaps back to, his arms lower from their folded state. "Your ideals are just that. Ideals. Dreams." He turns his head to look towards the forest. "But for what it's worth, whatever you choose to pursue, I say you should go for it. Don't look back. Don't regret. Just deal with what comes as it does." His eyes swing back. "Even guys who're dumb enough to smack you down."

"Everybody has ideals," Salee says. "Everybody has motivations." She tilts her head to one side. "They're only dreams to those on the outside."

Kenneth shrugs a shoulder lightly. "After all I've seen these few years of finding out I'm a werewolf? I think dreams aren't just dreams anymore. They go and lead us somewhere." He looks the cub up and down again, and seemingly out of the blue remarks, "You really think you might be a Shadow Lord? There does seem to be a requirement of black fur around here for them, though." That last part is said with a joking - as much as it is sardonic - manner.

It's clear that Salee almost responds with 'really?' as her expression changes. "Felix-rhya seems to think I could be a Shadow Lord. I don't know where I belong. I'm only just accepting that I /am/ a werewolf. I'm extremely open to suggestions at this point."

Kenneth almost folds his arms at his chest again, expression starting to cloud upon mention of the other philodox. "Felix also thought /Matt/ was cut out to be a Shadow Lord," remarks the halfmoon darkly, "'til Moon Otter rejected the idea. If you're lost for a place to be, then you first ought to know what you're dealing with. Being a werewolf aside, there's like I said, lines. You get any ideas of your own about tribes so far?"

"The hell's that's supposed to mean?" Salee snaps before she can catch herself. Rather than elaborate, she simply presses her lips together to form a thin line.

"It means," Kenneth elaborates with deliberate lag, "while it's good that you're interested and open to suggestion, /not/ to get pulled in by any fancy talk. You're a ragabash, right? You see behind the glam. Face the reality of it, laugh in its face if you want. Furies are female with few exception. Gnawers will be downtrodden, sometimes even willingly. Children of Gaia seek peace to an extent far greater than any of the tribes around, and Get are all for a violent, glorious life to prove themselves. I'd go on, but you see what I mean? It's great to have someone tell you you're meant for something. But if you don't believe it yourself, then what good's that gonna do?"

"Not /that/ part," Salee rolls her eyes. "I got that. I already know I which tribes I /don't/ belong in. Back up to the part where you were comparing me to /Matt/."

It takes a moment for things to stick and sink in, but when they do... Kenneth stifles an outright laugh. He has to bite his lip even, but eventually shakes his head. "/Fuck/ no," he snorts after a few more seconds of composing himself. "That wasn't me comparing you to that crazy S.O.B. I was meaning to say, just because Felix says one thing, doesn't mean you take it for Truth."

Salee still appears skeptical. "That's better," she says rather grudgingly. "So what you're saying, then," the redhead turns a bit more serious, "is that he might be selling me on a tribe that won't even want me?"

"'That's better'?" Kenneth echoes, pushing down his amusement again with a clearing of his throat. "And not exactly. I'd think he's got more sense than soliciting every lost cub that comes around for the tribe. But the ultimate decision of whether or not a cub will be taught by elders of a certain tribe, falls to that tribe's alpha first. And Moon Otter's current contender. I'm not saying you have to overdo it and impress. He doesn't seem like the type who'd care if you could flip over on your head for a tribe. Felix can be an in. But he's not an end all of end alls. That's what I'm saying."

Salee nods slowly as it seems to come together for her. "Well that makes sense when you put it like that." Bony fingers scratch at the back of her neck as she peers toward the house. "Uhm.. I think Jack's going to want to talk to you sometime soon if he hasn't caught up to you already."

Kenneth cants his head at the mention of Salem, eyes narrowing once more in pseudo-suspicion. "I figured as much," he replies, brushing off his arms as he unfolds them. "Just, think about it some. I'm not trying to put ideas in your head either, so's you know. In the meantime, you do what you gotta do to get yourself ready for the life you've got ahead. That's all." He looks back towards the farmhouse, as if to consider, but then turns to face the woods. "You heading back in?"

Salee considers this for a moment before she bobs her head once. "Yeah, I think I should head back in and try and throw some sort of a meal together before I head to bed. Dawn seems to come way too early as of late." She starts moving back toward the house, "Coming?"

Kenneth looks back towards the farmhouse, and then he shakes his head. There's a flash of discomfort in his posture and regard for the place, and he fully turns towards the woods, heading back the way he came. "You go on," he calls back. "I'll find my way."

The girl seems confused for a moment, but she shrugs it off. "Oh, okay. Take care," she calls back over her shoulder before quickly scampering off toward the farmhouse.

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