Happiness.

[jeremiah_garou]

30 March, 2013
The moon is in the waning Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (74% full).

Eastern Shore of the Columbia River, Under Municipal Bridge

Evening comes and rather than reading, for the moment Jeremiah's wandering down nearer to the banks of the river, with a critical eye and the purposeful walk of a man trying to get to know the lay of the land. He's got the oversize jacket pulled tightly around himself, and takes one step after another. And despite all the attention he's paying, he still doesn't seem to be catching over ninety percent of his surroundings.

"You're going to want to avoid stepping in that," Memory says, as she passes over the Gnawer's head and alights on a washed-up tire a short distance away. "I think that used to be a pigeon, in that nasty-looking puddle right in front of you."

Jeremiah startles slightly at the Corax being able to manage human speech in that form, and nods, carefully moving around it—and other nasty-looking things, choosing the solidest, least bad footing he can manage. "Thanks," Jeremiah mutters. His voice squeaks and whines at a horrible, obnoxious pitch. "Val?" The question comes, likely just to be certain. "Hey."

Memory startles a little, feathers fluffing out. "Ow. What the hell did you drink?"

Jeremiah shakes his head and lifts his shoulders. His voice, probably more bothersome to everyone else than to him. He's certainly trying not to talk too much. "Punishment rite," he says, and though there's a flare of anger, it's not directed at Val. Rather, there's a stubborn jut of determination to his jaw and posture. "Don' worry 'bout it."

Memory gives her head a shake, as if to clear it. "Well, it isn't pretty. Not near as bad as a Nexus Crawler scream, but still not nice. What are you doing down here?"

The ahroun lifts his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. "Walking," Jer answers, as few words as possible. "Like sleeping outdoors, don't like imposing on Lefty."

"Do you sleep as a wolf?" Memory enquires. "Would be warmer that way. And, if you don't mind me asking, why are you still here?"

Jeremiah nods. "Sometimes yes. Sometimes no." Jeremiah speaks slowly and carefully, but at least his English is improved. "Things I need to do." There's a long pause, and he makes his way at seemingly random now, but keeping within conversational distance of the bird. "Things to finish. Jack Salem… Judged me," as though it wasn't obvious that the ahroun had run into some philodox, somewhere, "I'm not runnin' away from that this time."

Memory lowers her head and scratches at her neck with one scrawny foot. "What things?"

The Gnawer shakes his head, either reluctant to talk to Val, or simply reluctant to talk. "Things. Talk t' folk in charge of each tribe." There's a warning glance towards Val now, too, and Jeremiah segues into something else. "What're you doin' out here?"

Memory cocks her head to the side, then looks in the direction of the Bridge. "People jump sometimes."

Jeremiah tugs at his lower lip and nods. "Haven't seen it, while I been sleepin' nearby. But." There's an open-handed shrug of his shoulders in admission of the fault. "If… if it hit me in the face I'd make sure you'd be up there at the top to hear of it."

Memory voices an amused sound, a soft gurgling followed by a series of clicks. "When I look for the dead, I always find them."

The Gnawer doesn't really seem inclined to argue, or anything of the sort. There's a half-decomposed dairy crate, and instead, he uses that to sit on, with only a fraction of his weight on it. Jeremiah nods, but no longer adds anything aloud, though there's a sheepish shrug offered.

Memory clicks her beak together a few times and seems to study the Ahroun. "I still don't understand why you are still here, if you were happier where you were before."

Jeremiah leans forward, knees on his elbows. "Because I am." The ahroun shrugs. "Maybe, I'm just a dumb Russian bastard." He continues. "I need to do this. Some things are… a new life did not make them go away? I may have been happier. But I was not happy."

"And what do you think will make you happy?" Memory asks, as she starts to preen.

The Gnawer lifts his shoulders and shrugs. "I don't know," Jeremiah responds, after a long silence. "But I still need to do this." There's a grin. "Plus, if I were going to leave, don't you think I'd have been smart enough to just do that, not talk to Salem and face Judgment?" After the little squeaky speech, there's another shrug.

"So, you've done your thing and been judged. All done," Memory says with the birdie equivalent of a shrug. "What else is there?"

Jeremiah looks at the bird, and shakes his head. "Not that simple." But apparently, perhaps for the punishment rite upon him, the ahroun doesn't seem particularly inclined to go further into his reasoning. "The punishment, those things are here. I stay to finish it. Then… then I'll head out. Portland, maybe. Or back down to Vegas. But the punishment rite… it ends, if I leave for good."

"Suit yourself," Memory says, then spreads her wings and takes to the skies. Well, that is one way to end a conversation.

Jeremiah lifts a hand in parting, before pushing to his feet to resume wandering the riverbank.