On my way to where the air is sweet...

[Christian Linch]

Starseeker, still in his funk about... his situation, is currently spending his afternoon in Tur, keeping an eye out just to keep an eye out. He's also, in an attempt to look like something other than a homeless bum that's just hanging around (sometimes he really thinks the Seekers should make Shadow Tongue bathe more and eat fewer Raccoons) he's got his guitar out, playing the Sesame Street theme, in the hopes that it would make him feel better.

It doesn't. He wonders if he cuts himself, would bad poetry spill out instead?

[Christian Linch]

Starseeker is currently in Hishu form

[Christian Linch]

Starseeker isn't a fantastic player, but he's fair at it. He's also really good at noticing people noticing him. When he hears the man speak Communist, he shifts the music from Sesame Street to a more appropriate song while he narrows his eyes. Too far away for a scent, could this man be a spy?

Oh look at that, his guitar case is sitting there wide open and there's a few dollars and some change in it.

[Christian Linch]

The guitarist looks this maybe-Communist over as he approaches. He's not one of the People, his nose tells him that much, is he reaching for a weapon? Could he be some kind of Assassin for the Pure? Or just someone willing to add to his seed money? Only one way to find out.

"How's the day treating you stranger?"

[Christian Linch]

Starseeker strums his guitar in time with his response "Fantastic, it's a great day for being outside I think." He glances down at the offering and spys what might be a $10 bill. Shiny. "You new in town? I've never seen you in this park before."

[Premsyl]

Brandon had come to Sacramento crammed in the back of a pick-up with six Mexicans - all of whom smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, jabbered in Spanish the entire time, and looked at him funny when he asked if any of them 'habla english'.

He had decided on California's capitol city because a cell-mate he'd had a few years ago had talked it up. Evidently it was a town where a guy could get lost in, and that's where Brandon needed to be - especially where the police were concerned. Anyway, he could smell the cops coming a mile off most of the time - they smelled like gun-oil, leather, and arrogance - and whenever he smelled that he tried his best to steer clear. Not that he had anything to worry about from a few cops, not anymore, he'd just hate to have to find a new city again so soon.

So the first thing he does when he gets into town is sniff out Tur. He'd learned only a few things since his First Change and one thing was that you don't want to walk around in the territory of bigger dogs without letting them know you were there first. So Brandon seeks out to meet some of the locals.

Coming to Fremont Park he smiles to find that, in this city, Tur is a pleasant little park in the middle of town. As soon as he gets near he catches the scent of another wolf. He follows his nose, (like Toucan Sam Brandon likes to think with a smile) until he finds a man with a guitar talking with another man. Well, the one with the guitar wasn't really a man but a werewolf, like himself. Brandon could smell it on the guy as plainly as he could see the color of his skin.

Brandon had never been the shy type. Hell, in prison that wasn't an option. He walks right up to where the two are talking, nodding to Starseeker and saying in a rough but conversational way "Hey, how's it going?"