The Truth Revealed

9/8/2005

04:17 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Crescent Moon phase (33% full).
It is currently 16:14 Pacific Time on Thu Sep 8 2005.

Odeon - Theatre(#3973RA)
The floor sticks to one's shoes like flypaper, and the seats all sag limply under even the slightest pressure. It's dark and dank with the evaporation of untold unknown liquids, and sounds echo menacingly off the soundproofed, honeycombed walls. The theatre is like a giant abandoned hive filled with row upon row of empty egg sacs; about a hundred of them, arranged in two columns, with three neat walkways, one through the middle and one on either side. High up and inset over the lobby doors is the projectionist's booth, a small alcove overlooking the theatre; opposite it is the screen, framed by ratty curtains that no longer close, and taking up most of the wall. It can no longer serve it's purpose, though: the screen is no longer blank, scrawled across it, from top to bottom, is a disconcerting mess of fluorescent grafitti which glows out bright oranges and greens even in the dark theatre. Like massive glowing worms the lines coil in and out of tags and outlines of images, in a roiling, reeling, psychedelic nightmare. The hundred empty seats all point towards it, mute and dusty.
Contents:
Squeaks
Obvious exits:
LObby  Alley  

The afternoon is winding down; in another neighbourhood the shouts of children just recently back at school might be wheeling down the streets, but as always all around the Odeon it's quiet decay. Inside the place there's little difference. The only sign of life in the lobby is the wisps of smoke curling up to the ceiling and the dull flicker of the end of a cigarette. Olga's eyes are closed. The woman's tucked into one of the corner, her bag at her side, posture a strange mix of restlessness and ease. She's not asleep, but, except for the lit cigarette, she's giving a good imitation.

Smoke dissipating into the shadows of the theater lights with the faded glow of its doors being opened. Scattering rats squeak minutely in surprise. Of course, nothing incredibly terrible to be surprised about, as Yi slips in with a tired sigh. Her beaten shoulderbag is slung off, dumped unceremoniously in a seat on the farmost row, before she gazes about the dilapidated surroundings. Spotting the theurge releases another sigh from the ragabash, and she makes her way down the aisle towards the other Gnawer.

The movement makes Olga's eyes twitch blearily open, like she's coming out of a haze. They turn immediately to a pile of fur and breathing underneath the screen, where Squeaks and the wolf-dogs are experiencing a rare moment of sleepy peace. When she sees them all asleep she looks towards the door, where Yi's just a shadow blocking out the small sliver of light. The lamp's quickly lit, and she shuffles up to her feet with it, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. "Hey," she calls out dully, seriously, tiredly when she makes the Ragabash out. "Hey."

"Good afternoon... evening..." Yi returns, easing herself down to a spot near the theurge. Though she glances at the cigarette with a somewhat pique of interest, the ragabash refrains from further comment on it. "Have you been busy?" she asks, the question posed like a teapot sweater - generally warming and for the most part, encompassing.

The question actually makes her chuckle, dull and glum, almost morbid, though it's definitely a laugh. "Yeah," she says, slowly, putting cigarette into pocket and closing the distance between them, walking along sticky carpets. "Y'could say that. Busier than I want to be and not as busy as I should. I be hoping to catch up with you. We got - we got all sorts of things to talk about I think."

Yi rubs down her leg, trying to massage away a certain ache, a certain pain. "I am sure we do," she replies. Her eyes stray towards the screen with the dogs and Squeaks, a faint smile managing to crawl up out of her. "I almost wish Tomas was here to do all the talking for us. But, we will have to make do." She gazes back to the theurge, giving her the 'go on' look.

Olga's quick to get to the point and the main weight on her mind. "I heard about dogs going crazy and fighting dogs, and Pokes-Her-Nose killing one, and then all the dogs getting locked here," she says, still walking towards the Ragabash, her eyes and voice level and serious. She leans against the banks of seats, setting her calloused hands down along the tops, now that she's close, and she asks solemnly, like she already knows the answer, "S'what I figure right? They got the rabies? All of 'em?"

Yi doesn't look to the theurge, but back towards the dogs. "I think so," she answers quietly. Her own answer is sad and hollow. "Maybe there is still hope, though. Maybe, if the Mother's Touch, or a Rite of Cleansing..."

"There's still hope," Olga says, straightforwardly, just the faintest crack to her voice, disguised her shifting against the chairs, awkwardly. "Not with those, though. The dogs aren't tainted or wounded, they're sick. There's still hope, though, I dunno if it'll work. There's a cure for _humans_, after all," she says, tentatively. "Don't know if it'll work on our kin. But we can try. It's all I can think to do."

Yi looks up sharply, her attention on the theurge. "What do we do? I have... never come across this sickness before."

Olga's eyes squint down; it's the first real expression to have crossed her face. "You don't got rabies back in Hong Kong?" she asks, curiously, though the question's weighed down by the seriousness of the occasion.

Yi shakes her head, but elaborates, "There are too many diseases in Hong Kong to count. Maybe rabies is one, and maybe I have seen it, but... those dogs are usually dead, or soon to be, by the time anyone really cares. But I never really paid any attention to it, until now." A frustrated sigh escapes the new moon. "I tried to learn about it, because it was on the local news. But they all say that once a dog is bitten, it is like Old Yeller." She grimaces. "There must be another answer."

Olga listens closely, strange atmosphere to her face, like she's unsure of how to behave. Her voice, though, is sure, and she answers with put-on expertise, "Once they start showing symptoms, they're done for. Usually people don't figure out that the animal's got it 'til it's too late. We know now. We should be able to immunize 'em or cure 'em or something. We gotta act fast though. Jacinta's kin, Smiskin, he's a councilman or something, is holding a drive or something to try and get immunizations to people. I's hoping he can set us up. I sent Emma to the woods to find Jacinta and ask her to get in contact with him for us."

Yi tightens her lips, looking back to the kin, and then nods firmly. "Maybe it is not too late for them yet," she echoes. "But... why Emma?"

"Because she was there," Olga answers quickly and without reservation. "She showed up at the Odeon this morning. I couldn't go myself, I needed to check in with you, and Basil's upstairs with his tongue and eyeball tore out of his face. She was there and she's all we got. And she's my friend and I knew she'd do it for me. That's why Emma." There's a bit of snip to her voice, but only a bit.

Yi furrows her brow, but says nothing more to mention of Emma. "Speaking of Basil," the ragabash redirects, "how is he doing?" What concern for the wolf-dog kin, now swirls and mixes with an undertone of guilt. "I hope he is healing well..."

Olga's eyes follow the wall up to the ceiling, looking up into the projectionist's booth like she can pierce through the door behind and see the boy resting there. Even if it were open the meager lamplight wouldn't be much to see by. "He's alright," she says, slowly. She adds, glancing over at Yi quite purposefully, obviously spurred by the Ragabash' earlier questions, "Emma brought him some McDonald's." She rests against the seats, and now that the wolf-dogs have been discussed she's more relaxed, though there's still definitely a tension running running through her. "He came in last night in quite a state. He doesn't got any clothes, just a big old coat, and he could barely walk. Shouldn't've been going through the city like that, but it's good he's here now."

Yi rubs beneath the chain looped about her neck, also looking towards the ceiling. "There is more to it, but... I am glad he is ok. Tamara," she starts to say, pausing at the Strider's name, "told me his clothes are in the attic at the farmhouse. I will get them for him tonight."

Olga looks at Yi quickly and briefly, trying to catch something, but she seems to look back unsatisfied with whatever it is she may have taken in. "He won't need them for a while, he's laid up pretty bad," she answers, half-cautiously, like her thoughts are elsewhere. She doesn't say anything more than that, she just watches Yi expectantly, like she suspects the Ragabash has something more to say.

Yi nods slowly, though she does indeed continue. "His eye. Even now, I have some dreams about it. And about Greenstreak." Her knee retracts up to her chest, head bowing as she exhales in memory. "So young." Then she glances back up. "And there was something going on that had Brom upset. He would not say what, but questioned me, and Basil, about our whereabouts a few nights ago, and my abilities as a Ragabash."

Olga's watching Yi more closely, now, less certainly. The latter issue she speaks of dismissively: "Yeah," she says, "he's got some bug or other up his butt. Said it was `sept business`. Said for `security` I shouldn't talk about it. So I humoured him and can't tell you what, but he came here asking me questions too." It's the former that garners her attention, though, and she asks, slowly and tentatively, quietly, "Who's Greenstreak?"

Yi draws her eyes back upon the theurge. "A cub," she answers, and by her tone, one she remembers well. "Ahroun in auspice. His name was almost equal to Trouble. In the end, he was.. taken from us by a certain Shadow Lord elder, now also gone from this world." Here the ragabash narrows her eyes a touch. "But he and I went into the Umbra one night. I meant to teach him about the spirits, but we were attacked by a tainted Owl spirit. The spirit took the cub, and he fought back. He lost his eye to it." She tilts forward some more, hunching. "I never did forgive myself for that night. I shouldn't have brought him with me. The moon was thinning."

Olga's quiet for a moment, and then she answers, slowly, without much certainty, "I don't intend on losing this one." She glances away, following the flicker of their shadows against the wall. She speaks more quietly, secretively, leaning forward even to whisper "This might even be good, for the boy. I heard Brom it was, that did it? How come?"

Yi sucks in a breath, eyes setting determinedly, though she's pinning the silver screen with her gaze and not the theurge. "No losing this one, or Aaron, or Masao." It's almost growled out. The growl softens, as does her gaze, watering down with a twinge of guilt once more. "Brom. He.. I thought it would be good for Basil to stand up to him, and so told him to spar with the Get." Her head suddenly, quickly jerks in a shake and she hunches a little tighter. "Bloody stupid idea."

"S'an accident?" she questions, uncertainly, head half-cocked. "He didn't mean it I guess? Got a bit too rough? Yeah, we're a pretty fucking stupid race. How do you think I feel turning him over to that psychotic Strider? But's done." She trails off, unsure of her point, eyes wandering the dark stained theatre floor.

The silence between them reigns unbroken for another minute or so, accompanied only by the faintest snores of the metis and her furry kin. "It is done," the ragabash echoes with a swipe of her tongue over her lips. She unhunches and pushes herself up to her feet, looking back to the theurge. "But we are not. He survived a fight with that Get. He can survive. And so can we." Drawing up to what full height she can muster, the ragabash replaces her grimness with determination. "If our /cubs/ can pull through, then so can we. After all, Masao had no fear going with me to scout that taco diner. Basil had no fear fighting Brom. Aaron had no problems with sparring with me, with getting hurt." The corner of her lip twitches up. Her eyes settle back on the theurge.

Olga can't immediately share in the sentiment; as often with her, curiosity wins out. "You did?" she asks, eyes flaring up. "What happened? Anything there? What's the place like? I swear, as much as it gave me the runs, they've got to have an entire chili farm back there or somethin'." A couple seconds later she says, reaching out to slap Yi mid-arm, chidingly, though it's not with entire confidence that she says, "Of course we'll survive."

Yi starts at the swat. It is a good distraction, a good reminder. The determination flared, but now it settles, turned down with a mental knob as she gets back to business. "It is a horrible place. You saw it. The cub scouted their back bathrooms, but besides the sheer disgusting feeling of the place and its workers, we did not see anything by day. By night, though. We took a look at the freezer. There was a camera, but I am pretty sure we are cleared about that. Their salsa was good for something, at least. And the freezer held nothing but their food in many boxes. Very cold... but also, very secure. I do not know why they need such a secure lock and camera for that freezer, but they had one anyway. We could find nothing though. I might go again, just to make sure, but we did not check the spirit side. You said there was a corrupted Ice spirit did you not?"

Olga's thick old eyebrows curl and pucker, casting shadows up her forehead. "They have a lock," she asks, surprised to the point of stun, "on their _freezer_? And a camera? What's the camera pointed at - just the freezer? That's fucking bizarre. Who'd want to steal their shitty pigeonmeat anyway?"

There is a knocking on the door from outside. Heavy, slow and precise.

Yi shrugs a shoulder. "The boxes we looked through only had food. We brought some back, too. Just to make sure, but the beef and tortillas did not seem to have any problem." With the knocking, the ragabash turns to look towards the theater doors, also closed, and then back to the theurge. Her brows lift slightly.

Olga doesn't much look in the mood for company, but with rolled eyes and a quite vocal noise of complaint she pushes off the row of chairs and shuffles across the sticky floor, shoes squeaking as she does. She opens the door quietly, determined not to wake up the bundles of fur sleeping on the other side of the room, and she stands there, holding it open for Yi. "You coming or staying?" she asks the Ragabash, patiently, drawling it out. "I'm just saying that if there's a problem in the realm and we take that spirit, it's not gonna help anything," she adds, switching between topics.

Yi nods, moving to follow the Gnawer elder and accompany her out. The shoulderbag she brought is left where it lays. "The only answer for the Realm I could think of is to burn the place until all that rotten slime is sent back to Gaia." She wrinkles her nose a touch. "To tell the truth, maybe we need to send the inspectors after them."

Olga's shoulders hunch up at that, and she throws the back shut. "I don't know that's such a good idea," she answers. "Even if it worked, we'd have the man all down here. Don't want to attract attention to the area we don't gotta. 'Sides, it's the cheapest place around. We shut it down, fewer people eat." She shuffles along to the front door, left hand in her pocket, eyes stretched up towards the door. She opens it roughly, a yank and a push.

Standing in wait is Brom, dressed to kill, literally. Torn up jeans, shirtless save a old denim jacket without the sleeves, and his wild hair sprawled about his face. "Olga. Yi Rhya." He says simply as he eyes the pair of Gnawers. "May I have a minute or two of your time?"

"Then maybe we need to find some way to clear the corrupt out," Yi notes with a slight nod before the theurge opens the door. Seeing Brom, the fostern nods once to greet him. "Of course," she answers, though she steps off to one side and peers out the doors towards the streetside.

Hospitality apparently isn't Olga's strong suit: she takes a step back, looks away almost as soon as she sees who it is, and grunts out her approval. "Yeah," she adds, in case the grunt wasn't sufficiently eloquent. She sets the lamp down along one of the walls, just underneath a lurid movie poster, and only then looks back.

Making his way back into the Odeon, Brom's eyes glance about, before falling upon them once more. "I will make this brief. My investigation is over and I have made a few decisions concerning the bigger picture. My only question, is for you Olga. Do you need me to pass judgement over Tamara for the treatment of your cub in her care, or, will you not be holding grievance against her? If my services are not needed, then I am no longer concerned with Bone Gnawer affairs. I extend this to you as a bit of hospitality as a Half Moon. Basil losing his tongue was not the goal of my investigation, it was a side project since it effected the one I am working on at the moment."

Yi meanwhile, makes sure the door is closed when the Get and Gnawer theurge move on. She glances towards Olga with the query, speaking her opinion, "What was done is done. Basil's tongue will heal." A beat. "His eye, will not."

Olga rests herself against the wall, arms wrapped around her stomach, looking back at him from down-turned face, lamp making her ugly(er) as sin. "Thanks so much for your hospitality," she drawls out carefully, hardly sincere but not quite blatant about it. "But no, thanks. So can y'tell us, now, what this whole big thing was about?"

"Kevin of the Glass Walker's got upset when Basil told him that Tamara and Grey beat him up and that the Metis took out his tongue, so, to get revenge, he went to the Barn under the Scent of Running Water gift and drew a large picture of Tamara and Grey charaching and made it quite blatant that he did not agree with Tamara's teachings." Brom says with a slight edge to his voice as he eyes Olga. "A good deal of Garou and cubs saw the drawing. It was a dishonorable accusation of two Garou and it stepped on the toes of the law respecting the territory of another. I was asked in so many ways to deal with it. The Glass Walker has been handed his punishment."

Yi glances to the Get. "He is your packmate, isn't he?" What comment she has about the drawing, or the part about revenge, is expressed only by the furrowed brow of the fostern. "What was his punishment?"

Olga actually cracks a grin, twisted-lipped, wickedly amused. Her chuckle is low and subdued. Her question is different, and pointed: "How was the likeness?"

"I don't judge art." Brom says simply without a crack of emotion upon his face. "Kevin is to learn the Rite of Contrition from someone and preform it for the two, then re paint the entirity of the Barn on his own. From there, he owes the pair a task of their choice." He sniffs the air slightly as well. "Kevin has also been removed from my pack until he has completed his chores and proven to be a Garou of honor."

Yi too, is not incredibly amused. "Why did he choose /that/ law to draw out? It had no connection to what they did to Basil." The Gnawer ragabash seems puzzled.

"Your pack must not be all that tight, then, I guess," Olga comments off-handedly, slyly, glancing at the Philodox out of the corner of her eye. She's quiet for a half-second, before looking at Yi and answering her much more straightforwardly, "Because the man's a furry fucker. He pumps his own kind."

"My pack is tight." Brom says simply and to the point. "As for why, you can ask him for yourself. I am not going to speak for him." He shifts his eyes away from Olga, then to Yi, giving her a slight nod in her direction. Almost seems there is something lingering on the edge of his lips, but instead, he makes his way for the entrance. "Yi, find me later. I wish to discuss some business with you."

Yi looks back to Olga, an eye squinting. "He has paid for that violation. He still does. But he knows his bounds. And he works hard to prove himself still of Gaia, and worth. Grey, no matter what he has done, is still one of Gaia's Chosen." The ragabash says this firmly, and then looks to the Get. "What business? If you have the time to spare and discuss, here."

Olga doesn't answer Brom's rebuttal except for with a glance of thin frustration, biting off any words. Her moon's been in her blood all night. "Never said he wasn't," she says to Yi, more quietly now. "You asked why, I said why. You can't blame mefor bein' flip, the man's been a charach and a renunciate and a ronin. No telling what he's going to be next."

"If you have the time now, lets take a walk." Brom says as he continues for the door. Opening it up, he steers a look over to the pair for a moment, then lets out a gruff reply. "Thank you for allowing me safe passage into your territory, Olga." My, isn't he polite?

Yi scratches at a spot on her skin, nodding slightly to her tribemate. "True. And I know he dislikes me greatly for what I did in the past too. But I look to him as something of a sign. If he can be a Garou, after all that he has done, and still hold on... then the rest of us have a good chance to keep on going as well." The ragabash gives the theurge a short half-smile, and then turns to the door too.

Olga pulls off from the wall, leaving the old lamp where it is, lighting everybody up in flickers. "You're good-hearted, Yi," she says, gruffly, though this time there's no sarcasm or irony in it. She looks at the two of them, smile curling around her face, and this time the sarcasm's all back: "Secrets, eh?" she asks, as if it were a scandal. "Don' worry, I'll go up and look in on Basil. The street's full of ears, if it's the sort of thing that's bad being overheard." She's already moving towards the battered old creaky iron stairs, though she takes her time about it.

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