"No good deed shall go unpunished."
Sep. 15th, 2014 03:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
renferretGhost has another chat with Nick in the park, and Nick wonders why a werewolf gets sick.
Harbor Park -- Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.
The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.
Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park Meadow
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 66 degrees Fahrenheit (18 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.88 and rising, and the relative humidity is 72 percent. The dewpoint is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (37% full).
It's starting to get a little chilly in the evenings, and that plus, perhaps, the morning earthquake seems to have left the park somewhat less occupied than it usually is around this time of day. Still, there's someone sitting on the edge of the fountain, recognizable more for her triple layers and generally worn and ratty clothes appearance than her face, which is partially obscured by the jacket hood she has pulled up over the old, faded baseball cap. Ghost appears to be focusing on the small screen of her prepaid phone than any activity in the park itself.
Nicodemus appears, on foot, coming from the north and walking alongside the shoreline. As he enters the park, his course immediately changes to an intercept course with the fountain, where Ghost happens to be residing. Or maybe it's just coming after Ghost. Regardless, his pace is a leisurely one. The walk of someone who's not on pressing business. He is, however, quite alert, as evidence by his head rotating here and there as he puts one foot in front of the other, taking in any and all of the park's current denizens.
It would seem Nick's not the only one on alert. As soon as he starts to head in her direction, Ghost's head gives a faint jerk, and as he gets closer it becomes quite obvious that she's watching him carefully, no longer paying any attention to her phone's screen. She looks a little this side of unwell, only slightly pale with a faint bead of sweat on her forehead despite how many layers she's wearing.
As Nick draws nearer, his attention shifts more and more to Ghost until, when he's within a comfortable speaking distance, he alters his course so he's no longer headed directly towards her. He keeps about 15 feet of distance in reserve. "You look sick," he says, his face not looking directly at you, but clearly keeping tabs on you from his peripheral vision. "You don't get sick, from what I've heard."
Ghost exhales, and something about her relaxes a little. "I do," she replies. "Sometimes." She pockets the phone and sits up a little straighter so that her attention on him is less side-long. "Haven't seen you for a while."
"Business trip," Nick replies, not volunteering any details beyond that two-word sentence. He's still not looking in your direction. Not directly, at least. "Drugs?" he inquires pointedly as he maintains his distance from you but closes in on the fountain's rim at a different location, closer towards the river's edge.
Ghost responds with a grunt. "No." A beat. "Met some more of your fuzzy friends the other night. Got a lesson in trying to help giant dickbags."
Nicodemus peels off his left glove as he listens. Then his right. "Lovely." He sits down on the rim of the fountain, placing you at about an 70 degree angle from how he's now facing. "They do it to you, or was it something they were tangling with?"
"Sort of." Ghost hesitates again, and then sighs. "I'm metis, right? It's part of that. I jumped in to help when they couldn't see anything, thinking I could get out before they knew what had happened. Didn't work out. After the assholes stopped trying to kill me and moved on to threatening to kill me, they decided to thank me for my efforts by locking me up." She swipes at her forehead. "Apparently, Salem told one of them to let me the fuck go, but they were /pissed/."
That comment actually seems to merit Nick looking your way. "Huh," he says, as if gutterally commenting as to how something or other suddenly made sense. And then it's back to not looking your way. "So.... Someone hexed you or something? Because they were pissed?"
Ghost shakes her head. "No, I just...sometimes I get sick. Usually when I'm injured. The head Shadow Lord dick electrocuted me somehow, when he thought I was a Dancer."
Nicodemus looks around, checking for any potential eavesdroppers or 'stray dogs.' Seeing none, he asides, "The term 'Shadow Lord dick' is redundant." He asks, "He used some kind of a device or gift or...?" He leaves the question open for you to maybe fill in the blank. "And this was before or after Salem told them to let you go?"
"Tattoos on his arms," Ghost replies with a wrinkled nose. "Or that's what it looked like. They started glowing like LEDs. No, that was the initial fight. Now he's just going to tell the Sept leaders about me. Because I /helped/ them. Lesson fucking learned, right? And he called in Brom to make sure I was telling the truth. /That/ asshole was bitter."
"Interesting," Nick says about the tattoos, and likely mostly to himself. He seems to be a man of few words this evening. He does, however, look in your direction now. "No good deed shall go unpunished."
Ghost flicks a glance upward at him. "You okay? You uh, seem kind've...quiet."
"I'm fine," Nick responds immediately. He then looks away towards the river. "Just tired, a lot on my mind. And the stress the locals are under seems to be boiling over a bit and affecting me to a certain extent--truth be told." He summarizes: "I'm worried about the future."
Ghost looks at Nick for a moment longer, and then suddenly laughs. "...Sorry, I just. That's me every day." She clears her throat. "You need anything? I mean, you being the rare non-dickbag member of the Nation around. I still owe you for that money."
Nicodemus turns his body ninety degrees, then pivots at hips and reaches into the fountain's pool with his left hand--his body partially shielding the action from any onlookers who might potentially object--and plucks a trio of pennies from the bottom. "Just a couple pennies for good luck," he claims as he removes his arm, shakes the water off, and flicks a coin, spinning, into the air. He catches it with his free hand. "And a good night's sleep in my own bed for a change."
Ghost watches the action with a look of mild curiosity. "Yeah," she says simply, then adds, "I didn't mention your name or anything. I don't think you'll be in trouble."
Nicodemus smoothly pockets the pennies. "I appreciate that. It's hard enough trying to be useful to them without them yelling at the same time." He looks, momentarily, a little bitter. He's probably had an incident or two in the past. "So this sickness you get from time to time. It just comes and goes? Or is it triggered by something? Staying too long in human form, perhaps?"
"It's uh..." Ghost shifts a little in her seat. "I had to explain this to Vee the other day. It's my blood. Toxic, you know? Not uh, not so much I'd poison something biting me, unless it was a vampire, I guess. Maybe. Doesn't taste good though. Anyway, but it's flowing through me twenty-four seven. Elliot thought--" She pauses. "He figured it doesn't bother me all the time because of how we heal. But sometimes, I feel it. And when I get really hurt, I get sick too."
Nicodemus takes a moment to wrap his head around this concept. "Huh." "Interesting." Silence that is followed by, "Maybe your body produces the wrong blood type or something? Or an otherwise unknown blood type?" A beat. "I don't suppose you'd give me a sample so I could have a lab tech--kin--run tests on it?"
"Tests?" Ghost echoes. "Well, I. I don't know. We didn't have access to that kind of equipment by the time he figured out that's what was going on." She's visibly debating this offer. "I'm not sure what a lab would show. How uh, how secure would it be?"
Nicodemus says "Kin-operated private forensics lab." Sounds secure. "For testing stuff that the police should never have nor see."
Ghost's lips purse. "That has to be a little costly. I guess you do have me curious though."
"Could shed some light on that mystery," Nick claims, supporting his suggestion. "Ideally, one sample taken when you're feeling ill. A second when you're not feeling ill. To see if there's actual changes in what your body is producing. Uh. I suppose you could just use a pair of those really small plastic tupperware containers you can get from grocery stores. Spray the inside and lid with isopropyl alcohol first. Seal it after you're done. Refrigerate it. Give me a ring when you've got one of each sample. No need to fill the containers, either. An ounce or two ought to be more than ample for testing."
Ghost gives Nick a faintly amused look. "Refrigerate it in what?" She reaches back to rub at her neck. "It's just a metis thing. But uh, if you want to see if there's anything that explains it more, I guess that's fine. Just don't tell the Garou what you're doing. Blood can be used in rituals, and they've got enough of my neck between their jaws as it is."
Nicodemus raises two fingers, side by side, in what might be recognized as a Boy Scout salute. "Absolutely. I promise it won't get passed on to be used in some fuzznut's rituals."
"Okay," Ghost says, even if she does still sound a little hesitant. "It's the one part they weren't able to fix."
"Your camp?" Nick inquires. "Cyberwolves?"
"Cyber Dogs," Ghost corrects mildly. "Well. My pack. But I guess at that point that was a significant number of the camp."
Nicodemus ahs. "Close, yet different. Going by nomenclature alone, that is." He thins his lips momentarily in thought, the stands up. "I can feel the fatigue catching up with me. I'm going to head home and call it a night. You take care, okay?"
"Yeah." Ghost's mouth twitches. "You uh, you too."
Harbor Park -- Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.
The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.
Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park Meadow
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 66 degrees Fahrenheit (18 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.88 and rising, and the relative humidity is 72 percent. The dewpoint is 57 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (37% full).
It's starting to get a little chilly in the evenings, and that plus, perhaps, the morning earthquake seems to have left the park somewhat less occupied than it usually is around this time of day. Still, there's someone sitting on the edge of the fountain, recognizable more for her triple layers and generally worn and ratty clothes appearance than her face, which is partially obscured by the jacket hood she has pulled up over the old, faded baseball cap. Ghost appears to be focusing on the small screen of her prepaid phone than any activity in the park itself.
Nicodemus appears, on foot, coming from the north and walking alongside the shoreline. As he enters the park, his course immediately changes to an intercept course with the fountain, where Ghost happens to be residing. Or maybe it's just coming after Ghost. Regardless, his pace is a leisurely one. The walk of someone who's not on pressing business. He is, however, quite alert, as evidence by his head rotating here and there as he puts one foot in front of the other, taking in any and all of the park's current denizens.
It would seem Nick's not the only one on alert. As soon as he starts to head in her direction, Ghost's head gives a faint jerk, and as he gets closer it becomes quite obvious that she's watching him carefully, no longer paying any attention to her phone's screen. She looks a little this side of unwell, only slightly pale with a faint bead of sweat on her forehead despite how many layers she's wearing.
As Nick draws nearer, his attention shifts more and more to Ghost until, when he's within a comfortable speaking distance, he alters his course so he's no longer headed directly towards her. He keeps about 15 feet of distance in reserve. "You look sick," he says, his face not looking directly at you, but clearly keeping tabs on you from his peripheral vision. "You don't get sick, from what I've heard."
Ghost exhales, and something about her relaxes a little. "I do," she replies. "Sometimes." She pockets the phone and sits up a little straighter so that her attention on him is less side-long. "Haven't seen you for a while."
"Business trip," Nick replies, not volunteering any details beyond that two-word sentence. He's still not looking in your direction. Not directly, at least. "Drugs?" he inquires pointedly as he maintains his distance from you but closes in on the fountain's rim at a different location, closer towards the river's edge.
Ghost responds with a grunt. "No." A beat. "Met some more of your fuzzy friends the other night. Got a lesson in trying to help giant dickbags."
Nicodemus peels off his left glove as he listens. Then his right. "Lovely." He sits down on the rim of the fountain, placing you at about an 70 degree angle from how he's now facing. "They do it to you, or was it something they were tangling with?"
"Sort of." Ghost hesitates again, and then sighs. "I'm metis, right? It's part of that. I jumped in to help when they couldn't see anything, thinking I could get out before they knew what had happened. Didn't work out. After the assholes stopped trying to kill me and moved on to threatening to kill me, they decided to thank me for my efforts by locking me up." She swipes at her forehead. "Apparently, Salem told one of them to let me the fuck go, but they were /pissed/."
That comment actually seems to merit Nick looking your way. "Huh," he says, as if gutterally commenting as to how something or other suddenly made sense. And then it's back to not looking your way. "So.... Someone hexed you or something? Because they were pissed?"
Ghost shakes her head. "No, I just...sometimes I get sick. Usually when I'm injured. The head Shadow Lord dick electrocuted me somehow, when he thought I was a Dancer."
Nicodemus looks around, checking for any potential eavesdroppers or 'stray dogs.' Seeing none, he asides, "The term 'Shadow Lord dick' is redundant." He asks, "He used some kind of a device or gift or...?" He leaves the question open for you to maybe fill in the blank. "And this was before or after Salem told them to let you go?"
"Tattoos on his arms," Ghost replies with a wrinkled nose. "Or that's what it looked like. They started glowing like LEDs. No, that was the initial fight. Now he's just going to tell the Sept leaders about me. Because I /helped/ them. Lesson fucking learned, right? And he called in Brom to make sure I was telling the truth. /That/ asshole was bitter."
"Interesting," Nick says about the tattoos, and likely mostly to himself. He seems to be a man of few words this evening. He does, however, look in your direction now. "No good deed shall go unpunished."
Ghost flicks a glance upward at him. "You okay? You uh, seem kind've...quiet."
"I'm fine," Nick responds immediately. He then looks away towards the river. "Just tired, a lot on my mind. And the stress the locals are under seems to be boiling over a bit and affecting me to a certain extent--truth be told." He summarizes: "I'm worried about the future."
Ghost looks at Nick for a moment longer, and then suddenly laughs. "...Sorry, I just. That's me every day." She clears her throat. "You need anything? I mean, you being the rare non-dickbag member of the Nation around. I still owe you for that money."
Nicodemus turns his body ninety degrees, then pivots at hips and reaches into the fountain's pool with his left hand--his body partially shielding the action from any onlookers who might potentially object--and plucks a trio of pennies from the bottom. "Just a couple pennies for good luck," he claims as he removes his arm, shakes the water off, and flicks a coin, spinning, into the air. He catches it with his free hand. "And a good night's sleep in my own bed for a change."
Ghost watches the action with a look of mild curiosity. "Yeah," she says simply, then adds, "I didn't mention your name or anything. I don't think you'll be in trouble."
Nicodemus smoothly pockets the pennies. "I appreciate that. It's hard enough trying to be useful to them without them yelling at the same time." He looks, momentarily, a little bitter. He's probably had an incident or two in the past. "So this sickness you get from time to time. It just comes and goes? Or is it triggered by something? Staying too long in human form, perhaps?"
"It's uh..." Ghost shifts a little in her seat. "I had to explain this to Vee the other day. It's my blood. Toxic, you know? Not uh, not so much I'd poison something biting me, unless it was a vampire, I guess. Maybe. Doesn't taste good though. Anyway, but it's flowing through me twenty-four seven. Elliot thought--" She pauses. "He figured it doesn't bother me all the time because of how we heal. But sometimes, I feel it. And when I get really hurt, I get sick too."
Nicodemus takes a moment to wrap his head around this concept. "Huh." "Interesting." Silence that is followed by, "Maybe your body produces the wrong blood type or something? Or an otherwise unknown blood type?" A beat. "I don't suppose you'd give me a sample so I could have a lab tech--kin--run tests on it?"
"Tests?" Ghost echoes. "Well, I. I don't know. We didn't have access to that kind of equipment by the time he figured out that's what was going on." She's visibly debating this offer. "I'm not sure what a lab would show. How uh, how secure would it be?"
Nicodemus says "Kin-operated private forensics lab." Sounds secure. "For testing stuff that the police should never have nor see."
Ghost's lips purse. "That has to be a little costly. I guess you do have me curious though."
"Could shed some light on that mystery," Nick claims, supporting his suggestion. "Ideally, one sample taken when you're feeling ill. A second when you're not feeling ill. To see if there's actual changes in what your body is producing. Uh. I suppose you could just use a pair of those really small plastic tupperware containers you can get from grocery stores. Spray the inside and lid with isopropyl alcohol first. Seal it after you're done. Refrigerate it. Give me a ring when you've got one of each sample. No need to fill the containers, either. An ounce or two ought to be more than ample for testing."
Ghost gives Nick a faintly amused look. "Refrigerate it in what?" She reaches back to rub at her neck. "It's just a metis thing. But uh, if you want to see if there's anything that explains it more, I guess that's fine. Just don't tell the Garou what you're doing. Blood can be used in rituals, and they've got enough of my neck between their jaws as it is."
Nicodemus raises two fingers, side by side, in what might be recognized as a Boy Scout salute. "Absolutely. I promise it won't get passed on to be used in some fuzznut's rituals."
"Okay," Ghost says, even if she does still sound a little hesitant. "It's the one part they weren't able to fix."
"Your camp?" Nick inquires. "Cyberwolves?"
"Cyber Dogs," Ghost corrects mildly. "Well. My pack. But I guess at that point that was a significant number of the camp."
Nicodemus ahs. "Close, yet different. Going by nomenclature alone, that is." He thins his lips momentarily in thought, the stands up. "I can feel the fatigue catching up with me. I'm going to head home and call it a night. You take care, okay?"
"Yeah." Ghost's mouth twitches. "You uh, you too."
