Good and bad news.

[jeremiah_garou]

22 March, 2013
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (73% full).

The moon gets smaller, the moon gets bigger. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it's sunny, and sometimes it's just cold, though it's not as cold out as it has been, and the night hasn't gotten truly dark yet. For the most part, Jeremiah's routine stays the same. In the morning he goes on a run, eventually gets to the park, and spends much of his day there. Right now, the Ahroun's sitting half-huddled under his usual tree, with a hot-dog in hand, and a book. Most of the world just passes him by.

The life of a Galliard is a lot of delivering messages to Garou, both known and unknown around the Sept. Sure, she normally doesn't trek to the city during her moon or full moons just because of the extra caution she has to take to keep from ripping some rude guy on the bus in half, but sometimes, when the news is important or she really, really wants a good beer at the Rat and Raven, she risks it. Tonight, however, she's out by the park wandering, searching for the Ahroun she met a few days prior—seeking him to tell him some important news that even a newly-arrived Garou should know.

The next time that the Gnawer looks up from his book, he spies Charlene, and raises a hand in brief greeting. Jeremiah takes his book, and closes it, and tucks the worn paperback into an interior pocket of the jacket. "Hey." His voice is still that obnoxious Jackal-voice, and he seems content to try and use it as little as possible.

Charlene trots over at a small jog, looking around for onlookers and, finding it quite deserted and quiet, manages a soft hello of her own and a wave. "Just the man I'm looking for." She smiles. "Got a bit of good news, if you're interested in hearing it, and some bad news to allay it with as well."

Jeremiah looks up to Charlene, and nods. "I heard that success, but. Not much else at all," he offers. There's a moment longer, and he pulls out a half-battered pack of cigarettes, tapping on the end, and asks, "Y' mind?" before starting to pull one out to light up.

"Ain't gonna kill me or you, smoking. Much worse things you could do. Knew a Get who nursed a heroin kick for years until her pack forced her to quit, but I digress. Success!" Arms go over her head in a celebratory gesture. "The caern is re-awakened. The sleeping Caern of the Hidden Walk is now the proud home of three totem spirits—a firebird, a swarm of orb spiders, and a woman that embodies the Wyld completely and utterly." Hands go down. "Now the bad news. Two of our number, Whisper, Tiny-Needle-Spears-the-Heart, also called, River-Songs-Entwined, also called Linda Smith, and Owen Hollsinger, Wildfire, formerly Lion's Roar, fell in the re-awakening of the Caern. They will be sent to Gaia with a Hero's Pyre."

The Ahroun's got the cigarette lit before Charlene starts to talk, and at the bad news, he visibly chokes up. Much more at the first name than the second, the second barely makes a change from the first. Jeremiah's free hand tightens into a fist and he looks away from Charlene. Eventually, he manages a few words. "It's an end she'd have… A good one," he says, as quietly as he can manage, halfway unintelligible because of the punishment rite. "She deserves it."

"You knew her, then?" Charlene nods slightly, the brim of her hat bobbing. "Then it's good that I've passed on this information. Have you talked to anyone about chiminage or anything like that? If you knew her, it might be a good thing to say goodbye."

Jeremiah's Rage, while present, is well-controlled. The Ahroun isn't calm, but he's not going to lose it either, and his expression falls. "I doubt I'd be welcome," he eventually manages, quite serious. "I'm not here… I don't get t' join th' Sept, whatever happens. Not never. I just want to fulfill what Salem-rhya said, make good on things I did in another life. I… knew her then. But she believed in me." The explanation is slow in coming, and with large gaps in it. "An' so long as everythin', I'm not welcome on th' Bawn or at Edgewood. An' I'm anruth, so."

"Look…" Charlene crouches down. "Make something that'll burn for her for the pyre and I'll try to get it there. Best I can do, really."

There's a glance upward, and a deep breath, and Jeremiah looks at Charlene. "Thanks," he offers, still quiet, voice still heavier with emotion. A moment later, and Jeremiah continues, "Please tell Salem-rhya I'm sorry, too."

"I'll do it." Charlene says softly, reaching out to squeeze the Ahroun's shoulder lightly. "Prob'ly be a surprise that you're around."

Jeremiah shakes his head. "Jack Salem knows I'm here," he points out, squeaking ever the more as he speaks, and points to his throat. "Called me a dumb Russian bastard," the Ahroun sounds almost proud of being called that, "told me I'd not like being Judged. He's been right. But I'm still sorry, about Whisper-rhya. About everythin'."

"You ever want to tell your story, I'll listen. Might do you some good to get it off your chest." She's offering psychoanalysis, of a sort.

There's a nod, though it doesn't seem like something that the Gnawer's about to do on this small a moon. But he hums, quietly to himself, a slight keen and words that sound to be in Russian, grief clear in his features for a long minute. Then Jeremiah looks up. "I'd not be who I am, if not for Whisper. Thank you. For thinking, and telling me." Another pause, and Jeremiah continues. "If y' find me, tomorrow. I'll have something, for her."

"It'll be a fat moon for me, but I'll come by on my bike." Charlene says as she stands, pulling her jacket around her shoulders tightly, looking up at the sky.

Jeremiah nods once more, sighing quietly. "I'd not ask if it weren't… so important," he admits, quietly. "But thank you. I owe y' one."

"No worries, bud." Charlene presses a folded $20 bill into Jeremiah's hand before standing. "Go get some food. I'm heading out."

The Ahroun offers a grateful smile, and takes the bill, with a faint squeeze of her hand. "Gaia watch," Jeremiah says, nodding.