Two kinds of good news
Feb. 4th, 2011 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shelbyrouIt is currently 18:48 Pacific Time on Fri Feb 4 2011.
Currently the moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (10% full).
Edgewood House: Downstairs
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
Freshly showered and dressed in a loose flannel shirt and jeans (rather than the usual homeless 'Nam vet attire), Jack Salem sits in one of the more comfortable chairs, his legs stretched out, absorbed in an old hardcover copy of The Stars My Destination. In the kitchen, a large pot of soup sits warming on the stove, atop a burner set to its lowest setting. An empty bowl and spoon indicates that the battered Philodox has already fed himself; he sips water from a glass set on the end table next to his chair. All in all, very cozy.
The back door opens and closes, admitting one cliath Silver Fang into the lower levels of the house. Distracted by the smell of cooking, she still takes off her outerwear and hangs it neatly before going to examine the contents of the pot. Only then does Shelby turn to investigate the rest of the house. She clears her throat at the reading Philodox - casually, rather than meaningfully - and spares a moment to adjust her cuffs.
Salem looks up from his book to regard the young Fang, eyebrows slightly raised. "Evening, Shelby," he says, looking for all the world as though he belongs there.
"Good evening, Salem-rhya," the girl replies, with a quick flicker of a smile. "I was wondering - is that your bowl?" A glance to the bowl beside him. "Or did someone else leave it?"
Salem glances at it briefly. "It's mine," he confirms, then gives a faint, wry smile. "Don't worry; I will take it back and wash it when I get up."
Shelby's smile suggests that of course she'd never think he'd leave it, here and gone even as its owner moves for the object in question. "It's not a problem," she says breezily. "Did you make the soup, too? It smells good."
Salem certainly doesn't prevent her from taking it. He nods. "There should be enough for a couple of days. Or one evening, depending on how many descend upon it." He slips a scrap of paper into the book to mark his place, then closes it. "How are things?"
"I won't tell Claude and August-rhya," the Ragabash says with faux-sincerity. "That should make it last at least twice as long." Prize firmly in hand, she pauses in her retreat to study the older man for a moment. "--About as well as can be expected, I suppose. You've been sort of busy, with your challenge - what do you know about what's been going on?" Another pause, then hesitantly, "Is it... over?"
Salem's smile widens, edges into grin territory. "Yes. I passed."
The Ragabash's face brightens in response, though she manages to keep an answering smile to something approaching decorous. "Good! Congratulations! I'd say Salem-rhya, except I already did." A nose-wrinkle and she turns away, turns back two steps later. "I could see if there are any chocolate chips, and make some cookies?"
"That sounds lovely," Salem says, setting the book down on the end table. "You mentioned something going on?"
Now the girl's smile comes out in full force. "Cookies it is. --Oh, right. Well, how much have you been paying attention? Did you know about the new Shadow Lord? Or Kerr?"
Salem's brow furrows. "...No. I've been preoccupied with city matters. And, well, keeping two pack alphas from killing each other."
Shelby says, "Oh," as though surprised he doesn't think that amusing. "Well, um," a quick glance at the bowl and back up. "Kerr died at the end of December - there was this tainted bear and she was in the fight for some reason and, well." Her lips thin. "Tim-rhya and I took her body to the burial grounds, but then he disappeared again. And there's a new Shadow Lord in town, a cliath Theurge. He's teaching rites for his chiminage, so if you're interested...."
Salem grimaces. "I'll keep that in mind, though to be frank I've had rather enough of Shadow Lords for the time being."
"He doesn't seem very... Shadow Lordy," she assures, as though her word would promptly change his mind. "He taught me one called Precognition." The girl pauses to think. "I don't know what else. I'm still not in a pack, or anything. Just when I think I'm about ready to give up waiting for the right combo to wander along, everyone I've got my eye on vanishes or something." Another grimace, this one more irritable, and she gives a short nod before heading for the sink. "I'm just going to go wash this. You're welcome to come along, or just yell, or whatever."
Salem grunts and gets up to follow the Fang into the kitchen, his gait oddly graceful apart from the notable limp. "Who have you been considering?"
"All sorts of people," the Silver Fang says, but turns the water on full-force to heat, and says no more. While she's waiting she opens a few cupboards and frowns at the contents before drifting back to the now-warm water to wash the single dish. Water off, she says over a shoulder, "I don't know, it feels weird to say. Like hoping you get asked by the right boy to the dance, only he never does, except he might. Like it'd jinx it, you know?"
Salem takes a lean against a wall, arms folded loosely across his chest. "Mmh," he says, which doesn't indicate clearly whether he does know. "Well, what sort of pack do you want?"
Shelby continues to wash the bowl as if someone were going to inspect it later. "Well, that's just it. I don't know. It's not like I have a lot of experience with packs." She tosses another smile over one shoulder, and not finding him there, tries the other. Aha, philodox! "Wisdom or Respect, probably. I can't see myself in a War pack. But then again, with the right people, and the right totem, maybe. Dragonfly. Merlin. Osprey." She bumps the water back on and adds, rushing water or not, "Hummingbird."
Salem nods, fingers tugging lightly at the thick white bristles covering the lower half of his face. "Have you considered joining one of the existing packs?"
Not until both bowl and spoon are rinsed and in the rack, the water off, and a towel collected for drying does Shelby answer that one, her tone light. "Oh, of course. But most of them seem... full. Insular."
Salem shrugs. "It can't hurt to ask." He and the young Fang are in the kitchen; the white-haired Philodox is leaning against a wall.
Outside, a motorcycle pulls up, the engine idling briefly before dying.
"Maybe," the ragabash shrugs, her tone carefully filled with not-care in the way only teens have mastered. "If I can't find chocolate chips, I suppose I could do sugar cookies. Only those have to chill. I could take you out for dessert...." She turns briefly toward the sound of the engine, then back. "...For dessert, if you'd rather."
"You can owe me," Salem answers, lightly. He shifts his weight, then, straightening up from the wall and cocking his head toward the sound.
The front door opens a moment later, and Kavi enters with his helmet tucked under one arm. He glances around the living room, and then heads back toward the kitchen.
"I'll just keep looking for those chips," she counters, with another quick smile, and turns to do just that, her back to the entering galliard. "The problem with having so many people come through is that nothing's ever in the same place twice. About the only thing you can reliably find is the milk, and that's only if we have any."
Salem grins crookedly at the Fang before turning that expression onto the incoming Galliard. "Kavi, hello."
"Hello," Kavi answers with a dip of his head for the philodox, pausing just at the entrance to the kitchen. He looks past Salem and acknowledges Shelby with a nod and a quiet, "Hey," before returning his gaze to his tribemate. He doesn't smile, though he manages an approximation.
"Kavi-rhya," Shelby returns, after checking to see just who it is who has entered. "Or," she continues to Salem, "I could make a batch and bring them to you. Which would you prefer? There's a new cupcake place in town. They have a chocolate, caramel, and sea salt that's just divine."
Salem raises an eyebrow. "Sea salt?" He sounds bemused, perhaps a little dubious.
Kavi has much the same expression, though both brows rise instead of just the one. After another glance to Shelby, he moves further into the kitchen, setting his helmet down on the table, out of the way.
The ragabash nods eagerly, and turns from her cupboard-surfing to face Salem the unbeliever. "Uh-huh. It's just perfect. I think she uses a devil's food for the cupcake, because it's really dark and moist, and then there's a caramel frosting with just these little sprinkles of salt. It's perfect with coffee."
Salem scratches at his neck. "...Hmn. You win. I'm intrigued. Oh, Kavi." He cocks his good at toward the Galliard. "You should know, my challenge is finished. I passed."
Kavi looks no less dubious about the cupcakes with the explanation, but Salem's news is sufficient to distract him. His brows rise again, not in skepticism, or even surprise. With the smile that forms just as quickly, his expression seems to point to relief beneath the happiness. "Congratulations, sir," he says through the smile. "That's good news."
"Then we'll do cupcakes, not cookies," Shelby agrees, obviously pleased. She glances between the Walkers, then adds, "I think I'm going to go spread the word about the soup. Congratulations again, Salem-rhya. Good to see you again, Kavi-rhya." She heads for the back door and her coat.
Currently the moon is in the waxing New (Ragabash) Moon phase (10% full).
Edgewood House: Downstairs
The front door leads into a small mudroom; coats are hanging on hooks. It opens into the spacious, well lit living room, with several battered old couches arranged into a sort of conversation pit facing the fireplace, a table in the center of them. There are a few chairs, some straight-backed, some plush and comfortable, arranged to make secondary conversation areas, with little end tables placed in strategic locations. There's a notable absence of either breakable objects, or elaborate electrical equipment such as televisions. The walls, painted an increasingly dingy white, have some sweeping dark fabric prints on them, but no paintings or posters. A steep, uncarpeted staircase leads up to the second floor. There are several doors that lead out to other sections of the house, as well. (+view for details)
Obvious exits:
Front Door Upstairs
Freshly showered and dressed in a loose flannel shirt and jeans (rather than the usual homeless 'Nam vet attire), Jack Salem sits in one of the more comfortable chairs, his legs stretched out, absorbed in an old hardcover copy of The Stars My Destination. In the kitchen, a large pot of soup sits warming on the stove, atop a burner set to its lowest setting. An empty bowl and spoon indicates that the battered Philodox has already fed himself; he sips water from a glass set on the end table next to his chair. All in all, very cozy.
The back door opens and closes, admitting one cliath Silver Fang into the lower levels of the house. Distracted by the smell of cooking, she still takes off her outerwear and hangs it neatly before going to examine the contents of the pot. Only then does Shelby turn to investigate the rest of the house. She clears her throat at the reading Philodox - casually, rather than meaningfully - and spares a moment to adjust her cuffs.
Salem looks up from his book to regard the young Fang, eyebrows slightly raised. "Evening, Shelby," he says, looking for all the world as though he belongs there.
"Good evening, Salem-rhya," the girl replies, with a quick flicker of a smile. "I was wondering - is that your bowl?" A glance to the bowl beside him. "Or did someone else leave it?"
Salem glances at it briefly. "It's mine," he confirms, then gives a faint, wry smile. "Don't worry; I will take it back and wash it when I get up."
Shelby's smile suggests that of course she'd never think he'd leave it, here and gone even as its owner moves for the object in question. "It's not a problem," she says breezily. "Did you make the soup, too? It smells good."
Salem certainly doesn't prevent her from taking it. He nods. "There should be enough for a couple of days. Or one evening, depending on how many descend upon it." He slips a scrap of paper into the book to mark his place, then closes it. "How are things?"
"I won't tell Claude and August-rhya," the Ragabash says with faux-sincerity. "That should make it last at least twice as long." Prize firmly in hand, she pauses in her retreat to study the older man for a moment. "--About as well as can be expected, I suppose. You've been sort of busy, with your challenge - what do you know about what's been going on?" Another pause, then hesitantly, "Is it... over?"
Salem's smile widens, edges into grin territory. "Yes. I passed."
The Ragabash's face brightens in response, though she manages to keep an answering smile to something approaching decorous. "Good! Congratulations! I'd say Salem-rhya, except I already did." A nose-wrinkle and she turns away, turns back two steps later. "I could see if there are any chocolate chips, and make some cookies?"
"That sounds lovely," Salem says, setting the book down on the end table. "You mentioned something going on?"
Now the girl's smile comes out in full force. "Cookies it is. --Oh, right. Well, how much have you been paying attention? Did you know about the new Shadow Lord? Or Kerr?"
Salem's brow furrows. "...No. I've been preoccupied with city matters. And, well, keeping two pack alphas from killing each other."
Shelby says, "Oh," as though surprised he doesn't think that amusing. "Well, um," a quick glance at the bowl and back up. "Kerr died at the end of December - there was this tainted bear and she was in the fight for some reason and, well." Her lips thin. "Tim-rhya and I took her body to the burial grounds, but then he disappeared again. And there's a new Shadow Lord in town, a cliath Theurge. He's teaching rites for his chiminage, so if you're interested...."
Salem grimaces. "I'll keep that in mind, though to be frank I've had rather enough of Shadow Lords for the time being."
"He doesn't seem very... Shadow Lordy," she assures, as though her word would promptly change his mind. "He taught me one called Precognition." The girl pauses to think. "I don't know what else. I'm still not in a pack, or anything. Just when I think I'm about ready to give up waiting for the right combo to wander along, everyone I've got my eye on vanishes or something." Another grimace, this one more irritable, and she gives a short nod before heading for the sink. "I'm just going to go wash this. You're welcome to come along, or just yell, or whatever."
Salem grunts and gets up to follow the Fang into the kitchen, his gait oddly graceful apart from the notable limp. "Who have you been considering?"
"All sorts of people," the Silver Fang says, but turns the water on full-force to heat, and says no more. While she's waiting she opens a few cupboards and frowns at the contents before drifting back to the now-warm water to wash the single dish. Water off, she says over a shoulder, "I don't know, it feels weird to say. Like hoping you get asked by the right boy to the dance, only he never does, except he might. Like it'd jinx it, you know?"
Salem takes a lean against a wall, arms folded loosely across his chest. "Mmh," he says, which doesn't indicate clearly whether he does know. "Well, what sort of pack do you want?"
Shelby continues to wash the bowl as if someone were going to inspect it later. "Well, that's just it. I don't know. It's not like I have a lot of experience with packs." She tosses another smile over one shoulder, and not finding him there, tries the other. Aha, philodox! "Wisdom or Respect, probably. I can't see myself in a War pack. But then again, with the right people, and the right totem, maybe. Dragonfly. Merlin. Osprey." She bumps the water back on and adds, rushing water or not, "Hummingbird."
Salem nods, fingers tugging lightly at the thick white bristles covering the lower half of his face. "Have you considered joining one of the existing packs?"
Not until both bowl and spoon are rinsed and in the rack, the water off, and a towel collected for drying does Shelby answer that one, her tone light. "Oh, of course. But most of them seem... full. Insular."
Salem shrugs. "It can't hurt to ask." He and the young Fang are in the kitchen; the white-haired Philodox is leaning against a wall.
Outside, a motorcycle pulls up, the engine idling briefly before dying.
"Maybe," the ragabash shrugs, her tone carefully filled with not-care in the way only teens have mastered. "If I can't find chocolate chips, I suppose I could do sugar cookies. Only those have to chill. I could take you out for dessert...." She turns briefly toward the sound of the engine, then back. "...For dessert, if you'd rather."
"You can owe me," Salem answers, lightly. He shifts his weight, then, straightening up from the wall and cocking his head toward the sound.
The front door opens a moment later, and Kavi enters with his helmet tucked under one arm. He glances around the living room, and then heads back toward the kitchen.
"I'll just keep looking for those chips," she counters, with another quick smile, and turns to do just that, her back to the entering galliard. "The problem with having so many people come through is that nothing's ever in the same place twice. About the only thing you can reliably find is the milk, and that's only if we have any."
Salem grins crookedly at the Fang before turning that expression onto the incoming Galliard. "Kavi, hello."
"Hello," Kavi answers with a dip of his head for the philodox, pausing just at the entrance to the kitchen. He looks past Salem and acknowledges Shelby with a nod and a quiet, "Hey," before returning his gaze to his tribemate. He doesn't smile, though he manages an approximation.
"Kavi-rhya," Shelby returns, after checking to see just who it is who has entered. "Or," she continues to Salem, "I could make a batch and bring them to you. Which would you prefer? There's a new cupcake place in town. They have a chocolate, caramel, and sea salt that's just divine."
Salem raises an eyebrow. "Sea salt?" He sounds bemused, perhaps a little dubious.
Kavi has much the same expression, though both brows rise instead of just the one. After another glance to Shelby, he moves further into the kitchen, setting his helmet down on the table, out of the way.
The ragabash nods eagerly, and turns from her cupboard-surfing to face Salem the unbeliever. "Uh-huh. It's just perfect. I think she uses a devil's food for the cupcake, because it's really dark and moist, and then there's a caramel frosting with just these little sprinkles of salt. It's perfect with coffee."
Salem scratches at his neck. "...Hmn. You win. I'm intrigued. Oh, Kavi." He cocks his good at toward the Galliard. "You should know, my challenge is finished. I passed."
Kavi looks no less dubious about the cupcakes with the explanation, but Salem's news is sufficient to distract him. His brows rise again, not in skepticism, or even surprise. With the smile that forms just as quickly, his expression seems to point to relief beneath the happiness. "Congratulations, sir," he says through the smile. "That's good news."
"Then we'll do cupcakes, not cookies," Shelby agrees, obviously pleased. She glances between the Walkers, then adds, "I think I'm going to go spread the word about the soup. Congratulations again, Salem-rhya. Good to see you again, Kavi-rhya." She heads for the back door and her coat.