Hole-in-the-Wall Dojo(#3343RFJ)
It's a lower-class type of dojo, crammed into not-enough space in a hole-in-the-wall three-story lease. The ground floor's occupied by the office, a small, mirrored training room, and a change room; it might as well be a small gymnasium. There's stairs which lead up - past the dimly-lit glass door to Hu Fung's Herbal Remedies, and higher, to the dojo proper.
Wooden floors with thin, chalked white mats, and an observation area that is really only wooden railings. An attempt at creating cosmic harmony has been made, with the addition of a few potted plants and mirrors, and the presence of a skylight. However, the chi's all wrong. Someone was probably reading their Feng Shui book upside-down.
Contents:
John

(( Long distance to John: Yi laughs, and wonders who owns it.
John pages: Some overambitious Yank from Brooklyn who took a few years in Kung Fu or Karate, probably. ))

No-one's present in the office, when she enters. There's a few signs up, a notice-board full of martial-arts promotional materials, and listing of the plans available for those interested in Karate, Tae Kwon Do, or kick-boxing, for the next two years. But no people. Then again, there's no sign saying that there's any price for admission to the dojo, and another sign indicates that that particular room is located up the creaky, wooden, carpeted stairs to the third floor.

Yi has checked out the dojo before, though generally had ignored it despite the prospect of training here. It was just too conspicuous for the Gnawer. Even so, the pull of strung black riverstone in her hand and warmth is enough to admit that someone she's searching for must be in here. Either that, or her rite screwed up and she is going to end up meeting a completely different John Smith, Walks-Thin-Ice, Glasswalker ahroun. The door is shut behind her with a nudge of her foot, and the no-moon glances about at the various posters before systematically checking around.

There's still no-one there, in this poky little place. It's not likely that there's ever that much traffic, but still... no-one at the desk. Upon closer inspection, though, there's a small triangle of card, laid on its side, so that the words written along its length are visible. 'Gone out. Back any minute.'

Yi peers down at the card, picking it up and taking a few moments to decipher the written English. She's getting a little better at it. A little. Still, it's plain enough the owner must not be here, yet there's that feeling. Instead, the Gnawer continues to scope out the dojo, checking into the training room first, then ascending the stairs towards the medicinal shop and dojo respectively. The Questing Stone still feels warm, so she must be close to something.

Upstairs, there's a few more signs of life. The stairs turn in on themselves as they ascend - the medicine shop's only another hole in the wall. A blind is drawn, leaving only the brass-coloured lettering on the glass in the door visible. And a dimness beyond. Further upstairs, though... there's occasional movement-- the soft thump of someone dancing. Or, more likely, training.

Score. Yi tosses up the stone and catches it deftly with a swipe, bringing her fist close to her chest and murmuring a silent thanks to the spirit who helped her before slipping the string-wrapped pebble into her jacket pocket. The Gnawer continues up the stairs to the third floor, quiet in her steps, wholly expecting to find someone, if not her 'quarry'. Even so, the feeling of apprehension to confront the Walker ahroun is well enough sticking a tiny thorn into the back of her mind. Not just that. She didn't know he trained here...

The dojo is walled off from the stairway entrance, and there, past a sign on the door asking visitors to kindly remove their shoes, is the large, wooden space. The building's not square, but rather an l-shape, given the installed walls against the stairs. A hollow seems to be for storing punching bags, speed-balls, and - oddly - a variety of strange oriental weaponry. The floor is a solid, sanded wood, given a uniform dark brown stain. And the white mats that line the large square that's fenced of by railing... contains a half-naked jeans-clad Walker, spinning lithely with a six foot wooden staff in hand. He's alone on the floor, whirling and striking air deftly, then returning to various poses in simple, flowing movements. There's a grace and dexterity to the man that's frightening, given his size... and the scars that cover his body so completely. A handful of gawpers lean on the railing at various points, watching in silence.

Yi opens up the door, bowing once quickly and removing her shoes as a respect-laden gesture. Though she says nothing, a couple of gazes turn her way briefly. The bigger 'danger' is the ahroun with the staff, though, which surely some of the imaginations of the audience must be playing out as the butt end striking a hapless victim - them. Yi works her way closer, though remaining jacketed and watching the scarred form of Mr. Smith twirl and strike in familiarity with her trainings. The Gnawer deems to stand off to a side from the gaping watchers, her own expression veiled for a reaction.

John finishes off a particularly vicious-looking series of strikes, jabs, and whooshing-noise-making swings, before twirling the staff twice, and letting it smack up under his arm as he comes to attention. He turns and faces the newcomer, with his hands on the staff, and watche her impassively for a moment before starting to walk off the mats again. The Ahroun's focus on the girl of course inspires the handful of onlookers to give her some serious inspection as well. They grow tired of it quickly enough, though. She's rather plain, and carries a few scars of her own. Best not to look too closely. John picks a plain white towel up from the railings and dabs at his face and hair with it, not speaking to Yi just yet.

Plain on purpose, so to speak. Yi pays little attention to the lookers, instead following the ahroun with her eyes. She's not particularly interested in the next happenings of the others, just watching impassively. At least she found him, but now. Now, the Gnawer's mind is blanking like a stressed student taking an exam. Her legs are first to move, gracefully saving her from any awkward lurching by sheer innate and practiced economy of movement. Which brings her towards the towering scarred man, but leaves her at a safe, acquaintanced distance. Yi waits for him to finish cooling down.

Still wiping himself with the one hand and towel, and resting on the staff, with the other, John tilts his head at Yi, shooting her a curious look. "Come here often?" he queries mildly.

Yi doesn't look full on at the man, diverting her gaze to the next trainee who goes at it with just a body. Compared with John, the student is less experienced. Who could compare to a natural fighter? The ragabash shakes her head. "Just visiting," she answers him. No flourish, no nervousness, but definite indecision of how to continue this 'conversation.' Then, daring a glance up at him from the corner of her eye, she regards him - his mood, his posture - in attempt to glean out the ahroun's disposition.

The Ahroun seems rather open, with the moon, and all things considered. He frowns slightly at Yi. "{We need to talk outside?}" He wrinkles his nose, after speaking that halting cantonese, and looks over to one of the onlookers - probably a student, the young man wears a white robe. "Yo." John tosses the staff over at the youth, who nearly drops it, then starts outside, rubbing the towel thoroughly through his hair.

"Preferably," Yi answers him again, first dull. But her movement betrays her brevity, as she makes for the door. Just being in the dojo is, somehow, bringing on an irritation that she can't stand right now. The Gnawer pauses at the exit/entrance, bows again from manners, and steps out to slip her shoes on. Whether John follows, is really his decision.

John does... but wastes little time with the formalities. His 'bow' is merely a quick, low nod, as he turns to the door. And then steps out to the stairway. He closes the door behind him. "So what's up?" he asks mildly.

"The moon, the stars, the sky..." Yi notes idly, stopping midway in the stair descent so the pair of them are not so close to the door. That, and she'll be able to watch anyone coming up. "... blood pressure of Americans..." she adds as a last thought. Ah, news channels. Eyes still diverted, she asks the ahroun out of the blue, "Why did you invite me to the Walker gathering?"

The Walker arches an eyebrow, and takes a deep breath. Blowing it out through his cheeks as he looks at the ceiling, John slings his towel over his shoulders and folds his arms. He sucks on a tooth, and then looks down at her. "Well, first of all... it wasn't that formal a gathering. Second... the people like you. Third... I had a hunch Roger might've wanted to give you a message. Roger wanted to reach a lot of people. He was a Galliard. The message was for a lot more than us."

Yi leans up against the railing of the stairs, closest to the wall. "As much as I appreciate and feel honored by the gesture," she says slowly, "Next time, please warn me if you plan on having police there." The ragabash shoots a glance up at the ahroun, dark eyes a tad judging.

The arched eyebrow remains arched. And a little moreso. "There were no cops there. Just kin." The words are even, but heavy.

Yi narrows her gaze, but looks away again. The Gnawer breathes out a sigh. "Nothing," she says finally. "That's all really." No, that's not all, but she can't bring herself to say these things she'd like to say. "A US Marshal is a cop. Kin or no kin, it is a dangerous situation for me." She fully expects John knows this already, but it doesn't hurt to remind him. So she thinks.

John's arms are folded, but she can see his hands tightening over those scarred muscles, slightly. He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "You came here to insult me, and my Tribe?"

"No," Yi says quickly, though the response comes out a little too flat. She swallows dryly, pressing her lips together in an instant bite on the inside of her lip. This is not what she was searching him out for. "No, I did not." Damnit. This is the awkward moment. Caught in a matter of pride, and self-doubt, Yi curls her fingers into an invisible fist around the railing she leans on. "No, I came to talk to you." The Gnawer pauses awkwardly. "Though... now..." Now it doesn't seem so hot an idea. "Now is probably strange."

"Why?" John asks flatly, letting the insult to his kin slide. He's frowning, though. She seems a little unusual.

Yi goes whiteknuckled behind her, though she's trying to look unperturbed by the question. Why? Yes, why did she decide to randomly seek out this Walker ahroun? "I... am not quite sure. It was out of... need I suppose." The Gnawer drops her eyes to the stairs below.

"Stop jerkin' me around, Yi. You're not a Tribesmate, but you're still close enough... just give it to me straight. Whatcha need? Money? Another passport?" The Walker seems slightly annoyed, but it also seems to be mostly due to her reluctance.

Yi finally shakes off the indecision, and rips her hand from the railing. "A reason," she growls out, "{A damn good reason.}" Swallowing hard, she forces herself to look up at the Walker, and calm down enough to slow her bullet-train thoughts. "There's nothing left for me here," she reasons, "It sounds stupid but that is what I have been thinking. The caern is retaken and recovering, yet I do not feel any connection to it. My pack? What good does it do to be in the woods, when my place is the city? The bonds are weakening again, I can feel it. And soon I will tell Salmon's Leap. They will lose respect for me, but I feel it must be done, given no other choice. Yet, even here in the city, I feel simply alien. I do not belong."

That definitely leaves him taken-aback. The Ahroun's eyes widen slightly, and he blinks a couple times. John looks to one side for a while - out the window by the stairs, which gives a view of the street, below. "That's... quite a decision," he murmurs softly.

(( Dizzy pages: o/~ How does it feel? How does it feel? To be on your own? With no direction home? Like a complete unknown? Like a rolling stone? o/~ )) [Note: I left this in because the timing was uncanny for the mood of the RP, and what I was trying to get across with Yi. Who would've known Bob Dylan lyrics fit so well? Song is called, "Like a Rolling Stone" btw.]

She doesn't know why she's saying this. Heck, Yi hasn't a clue why she'd chosen the ahroun to confess some of her doubts to. "It was the same. I haven't changed since I came back," she shakes her head. "Like ... like a puppet without strings." The Gnawer looks down again, and away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you with this." The ragabash turns, to descend the steps and resume that life she was living before this grinding halt of a statement.

"Stop." The word has the voice of command behind it. "Get your ass back here and tell me what this is all about. Now." All emotion's covered up behind that grim mask he so often wears.

Yi does indeed stop. It can't be helped. She wasn't expecting the command, but somewhere there still was the anticipation. Half turning a moment, the Gnawer keeps her gaze downcast. "This ... isn't the right place," she says quietly.

John looks sideways, and frowns out the window again. "Fine. Where is?"

Yi slowly looks up and beyond the ahroun back up the stairs. Out here in the middle of the stairway, who knows who could be listening. "Up," Yi indicates with a look towards the ceiling. Anyone who knows her probably knows her penchant for patrolling via the rooftops.

John rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly, before gesturing up with a thumb. "No-one's going to steal my stuff in a hurry. C'mon." He waits, though - it'll be after her.

Yi steels her resolve, tugging her jacket close and trudging up the stairs. When she passes the ahroun, the ragabash stiffens but continues. And does so, all the way up to the rooftop of the dojo building. Outside, with the sun starting its descent down the western edges of the city, she turns towards its light and takes a deep breath, thinking.

John emerges a few moments later, towel over his shoulders and his arms still folded. Leather-gloved hands break up the colour of the skin a little. He watches Yi carefully. And waits.

Yi draws her arms around her, going over and picking out churning thoughts. Was she like this before? Maybe, but she probably was very good at hiding it. Or maybe it just didn't develop until recently. "I... am not sure where you'd want me to start." She doesn't dare look at John yet. She doesn't have to. She could likely feel his eyes on her.

He unfolds the arms, eventually, and shakes his shoulders out. Loosening up, in the chill air outside - cooling the perspiration on his body. John pulls the towel off his shoulders and rubs himself down a little more thoroughly, before replacing it over just the one shoulder, and moving over to the edge of the building. "I'm not going to bite. Start wherever you want."

Yi still doesn't turn to face him, but when the city sounds start to invade on the silence, Yi pushes off. "You know when I came back, I wasn't the same as when I had left. There were things... that I did, and that was done to me, that... changed what I saw the world as." The Gnawer chews on her lip. "I've kept it quiet, but since then, things are all different. Things, I didn't want to see before, were brought forward. Shoved in my face. And, it..." The Gnawer closes her eyes. "Ever since I came back, I have questioned who I am, and what I have done, what I have become. I do not like what I've seen." The no-moon turns around, "There is so much... difference." She grabs for a word, not in her English repetoire. "I just... thought you... might be able to help."

John looks out over the city, and leans against the low wall that surrounds the roof. His hands dangle loosely over the edge. There's no response for a while, as he takes in a deep breath of city air, and lets it out. "Survive. Adapt. And... let someone in, Yi. It's how we learn the most about who we are."

"No one should know," Yi protests, fingers curling to fists balled in frustration. "I have learned enough about myself... to hate it." The Gnawer looks at her hands, wrists looped in burn scars from silver chains. She looks back at the Walker, his scars far more than hers, yet somehow he's managing to carry them all. It's perturbing.

The Ahroun actually seems to smile. "Then I'd just say 'survive'. Make yourself useful. Live for the fight, and fight for life. But..." He doesn't look over his shoulder at her. "There's the great thing, though. Sometimes, someone else comes along. And no matter how much you hate yourself... they don't care. Doesn't matter what you've done - it doesn't make a difference to them. And suddenly you're... human. Worthwhile."

"Human?" Yi echoes, her tone rife with a cynicism not usual to the ragabash. "You call this human?" Rage further colors her cracking voice, and she clenches down her teeth. "I -ate- humans," she growls shamefully, loathing the idea but remembering how it felt down to the very last detail. How at the time, it had felt... good. She shakes her head in a toss, crumpling to a crouch.

The smile disappears. Quickly. John frowns slightly, staring at the streets with a look of growing illness. "In frenzy?"

Those images come back. The endless fights, the torture, the nightmare-ridden arena she had been forced into. And then, the images of Glissa's kitchen. Yi doesn't answer him, caught in a haze of grotesque detailing of her sins. "I don't remember," she finally answers.

The Walker takes a deep, steadying breath, and wets his lips. His mouth seems to have gone dry for a very good reason. "You shouldn't have told me that," he murmurs.

"You should know. Because it involves your tribe. At least, the east group of it, the (Boli Zousizhe)," Yi replies, tone sullen. It could very well be the same tone she had when she was rescued by her septmates in HK.

"Don't tell me any more," John says firmly - tone hardening. "We've all been through shit, but some of us more than most. Myself. Salem. And the /unspoken code/, is that we /don't talk about any more than is safe/."

Yi turns around, jaw clenching but she knows she has to tell him. "I understand your code," Yi says under tensed breath, "But you must know because you are Glass Walker. I am marked by your tribe. You've seen the scars. You've seen the glyph of your tribe carved into me. But do you know why?" She's a ragabash. She breaks codes for a living.

He still doesn't look at her - the anger springing to life in his eyes is reserved for the rooftops before him. "Those assholes do things differently to us, OK? You're beholden to no-one!"

"Those assholes are My kind," Yi counters, no matter how much she could appreciate John's statement that would potentially pay her debt. "It is punishment deserved. But as you do things differently, I came with a request."

John closes his eyes for a few moments, mastering a calmness in his expression. "You're making a big mistake," he rumbles lowly.

Yi takes another deep breath, letting it go with the nervous and shame-brought tension riddling her frame. "I request forgiveness, but at the price that I do what I can to help your tribe. Whatever it may be. But," she pauses, gauging the ahroun carefully, "But it may require different knowledge. As you said, you do things differently than the Walkers I know. So... I need to know, what it is I can do."

John wearily lifts a hand to his temples and pulls himself up. Standing straight, he rumbles, "You're not going to let me get away with asking you to buy me a Coke, are you."

Yi slowly crosses her arms over her chest. "If Coca-Cola is what you think solves this problem, then you do things a lot differently than what I know of Walkers." It isn't said insultingly, but certainly with the feeling that she must be more alien than she thinks. "But I will not burden you any more than what is needed. You have your own tribe to watch over, without a Wang Tong tagging along like an annoying dog. When you need me, all you need do is ask."

"Yi-- wait..." John turns finally, to look at the girl. "Look..." A weary uncertainty settles in to his expression. "I don't know how this works. I only spent a little while in the place, and I wasn't learning all I should've. What's this about. Tell me plain."

Yi slips her arms loose, approaching the Walker ahroun at a diverted side route. She ends up beside him at a familiar but respectful distance, using her turn to look out at the sunset. "I did wrong to the tribe back home. Call it... crimes of war." The Gnawer tries to follow this unspoken code, not giving the details as he had said before. "When they found me out, it was a challenge. I lost." She sighs quietly. "So the victor marked me, to let any who knew what it meant to know. I owe them my life, and then some."

John looks sideways at the girl, turning to see her face to face. "Uh-huh. And you owing me a life-debt... if you repay that to /me/, is that going to hold any weight with the ones back home?"

"They may call themselves different, but the payment is to the entire tribe, no matter where I go." Yi looks straight to the ahroun unchallengingly, just facing the fact. "They will know what I do when I do it. They know what you do, too. I dare to say, the Glass Walkers are the most connected tribe of the Garou." She looks around, significantly.

Eyes to the horizon, John frowns, and wets his lips. "A life debt," he murmurs faintly, taking a few steadying breaths. He folds his arms again. "The task I may ask... might take years."

Yi turns her eyes to the horizon as well, the red sunset holding some kind of deep, inner beauty to it. "Then I better get started," she says in a whispered answer.

Shaking his head slightly, John just watches that sunset. "Why did you do this, Yi?" he asks softly.

Yi thinks on this. A long silence passes, diluted by the city's growing night sounds. Finally, an answer. "... I want no regrets."

John accepts the answer in silence for a while. Slowly, he starts to nod. "It's a good goal. The best." A little longer, and he murmurs, "Craft me a weapon, or find one who can."

Yi blinks a couple of times, first at the compliment, and then the ahroun's quiet request. Turning her gaze from sunset to the fullmoon, she narrows her eyes. "What kind of weapon?"

John takes another breath. "One I can use. A sword. Or a spear. Oriental-- Say... a Katana, or Wakizashi. Or a Lajatang. Do you know of these?"

Yi bites her tongue, turning back to the sunset and nodding. "I know the weapons. Though I only have trained briefly in a few." The Gnawer drags a finger on the rooftop's cement rail. "But I would not know how to craft one." Not wanting to make it sound like she can't fulfill his request, the Gnawer quickly adds, "It will take time."

John wrinkles his nose and shrugs dismissively. "It doesn't have to be crafted by your own hands, but it /must/ involve sacrifice and an investment on your part. I want the weapons to be strong. I want it invested with some of your spirit. Your hopes. Your aspirations and your shame. It must be worth your life debt. All that you are... all that you have been, and all of your sheer /potential/."

Yi draws in a quick breath, in essence realizing the challenge set before her. No regrets, she tells herself. She owes it. She must complete it. "It will be done," she finally says, quiet and resolute. The ragabash is supposed to make the impossible seem possible, after all.

"It must be usable in crinos, in the Umbra," John notes, quietly. Still looking at the sunset.

John's further rules on the weapon's design startle the ragabash, but Yi nods again. The Gnawer's heart sinks, the weight of the task heaving rocks on her mind. But, she says nothing - her affirmation is silence.

Turning to her, now, John narrows his eyes. "That is it? That is the punishment for the crimes you committed? That life-debt, which I seek to discharge from you?"

Yi slips her hands into her jacket pockets. The small black riverstone which had served her to find the ahroun, gripped tightly in secret. "If it is not enough, it will be made known." As the punished, she has no say in the matter, in her mind. She looks at the ahroun's narrowed gaze. "When it is done, you will receive the weapon."

It's entirely possible that the wink he sends her is just a figment of her imagination. After all, the expression on his face remains so grim - so stoic. But it comes with the words, "Take your time. Now if you'll excuse me... it's getting late. And I'm getting behind. Join me for training sometime. Everyone here are useless sparring partners." He moves for the stairs.

Yi looks at the scarred back of the ahroun as he departs, remaining where she is silently until he departs in descent. When he is gone, Yi lets out a withheld, long sigh. "{You crazy no-moon,}" she scolds herself quietly. "{Just look what you got yourself into.}" Nevertheless, she shakes her head, and after sufficient time passes, makes for the stairway down as well.