Summary:
June 18 2014: Turns out it doesn't have to be late at night for the odd and magical to come out in M-Town
M-Town
A crowded shopping area in M-Town just after lunch, full of foot traffic, residence and 'tourists' going about their daily life or seeking a taste of 'mutant culture.'
Characters
NPCs
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Mood Music:
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The M-Town bustle is one of Fenris' favorite things. Partly because of the variety on display. The people here aren't your standard mortal that he's dealt with for 25+ centuries. And partly because moving unseen through the human herd satisfies the rather inhuman part of him. Not all hunting has to end with a kill. Today he's just watching, walking through one of the busier shop districts just after lunch and silently observing the crowd. As usual he's dressed perhaps ever so slightly too nice for this part of town, but that predatory aura he throws off just be being himself ensures that even the seediest of M-Town thugs are likely to look for other marks, especially at this hour when there are so many other marks to be had.
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All kinds of people come to M-Town, especially during the day. For some reason it's perceived as 'safer' when the sun is up, as though Mutants were supernatural critters that fear the great glowing eye in the sky. So while a good portion of M-Town's residents have obvious mutations, between those that don't and the tourists Illyana certainly doesn't look out of place.
The blonde is sitting on one of the benches, leaning back with the heel of one heavy-soled boot on the edge of the seat. She's got a drink in one hand of the frozen coffee variety and her lips purse about the straw as she drinks. She's in jeans and those boots that come up to her knees with an NYU T-shirt on. No shopping bags, no purse. And her blue eyes sweep the crowd without any specific focus.
Despite the fact she's a pretty girl and that there's space on the bench, she's alone. No one sits by her or tries to strike up a conversation. The crowd even tends to give her a decent amount of space without even realizing it as the demonic nature of the young woman whispers to their lizard-brains and their pace picks up until they've put some distance in.
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As he walks by the bench Fen's own magical senses go off. Mostly they're not enough to tell him much, only that someone is about who's throwing off some supernatural vibes. With some effort he can get a bit more from them but it's usually easier to just look about.
Which is exactly what he does, stopping in the middle of the walkway and letting the crowd flow around him. It takes only a few moments to spot the blonde about ten feet off. Yes… that'd be it. The question is… why? Mortal practitioners of the arts are not common, but neither are they unheard of. All the same it's unusual for one to provoke such a strong sensation which suggests either a very potent mortal… else someone whom is not what they seem. The latter isn't necessarily a problem. The world is far too full of non-mortal beings for Fenris to chase off every single one that wanders into his hunting grounds. So he simply stands - appearing to the eye at least to be a tall, lean man with muddy brown hair in a casual shirt and slacks - and watches.
Yes, yes he is staring a bit. It's lupine habit he never trained himself out of. It tends to be pretty effective with your run of the mill human.
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As Fenris draws closer, Illyana can feel the prickle of his approach as well. There's a slight narrowing to her eyes as the cup is brought down and passed from left hand to right, The thumb of that left hand rubs against the sword-calluses as her palm prickles. She pushes down on the instinctive reaction of her Soulsword to manifest when she senses strange magic. Her cool blue gaze surfs the crowd until it lands on Fenris. Jackpot. The fact that he's staring back sort of clinches the deal and for long heartbeats it's all about the eyes. His lupine stare to her icy one. And though she feels the weight of that predator's regard, she doesn't look away. Doesn't flinch.
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Mmmmmmm. No she's not human. If the sensation of potent nearby magic wasn't enough, very few humans can meet his eyes like that. Interesting. He smiles a small smile devoid of warmth, makes his way over to the bench and sits down in the empty space. Now that he's a bit closer he realizes something that smelt a bit odd in the air is coming from her.
"You… you are the second one of Those Below I have seen this week. Getting more active now, aren't we." His eyes scan the crowd which is at a somewhat greater distance now and then cut back over to hers.
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Illyana's gaze follows Fenris as he approaches, but she doesn't make a move to leave, or object to him sitting. She does shift though, so she's turned towards him. She lifts her cup again and there's a slow slurp on the straw.
"Rude way to start off a conversation." She says, her tone dry with an almost mocking lilt to it. This close, it's easier to see it's shadows that make her eyes so cold. Shadows lurk in the depths, but they aren't completely devoid of that spark of humanity.
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"Perhaps, but given the mess made of Gotham this past week…" Rains of acid blood. Small Chaos Lords running wild. Perhaps she's heard, perhaps she hasn't. He holds her gaze for long enough for her to see a total lack of that same spark in his.
"Out watching, then? I never did follow the Lords Below very closely. You seem rather potent to be a mere agent." His tone is low and while he's not threatening her, it's equally clear that he doesn't feel threatened by her presence.
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Illyana's mouth sets into an unhappy sort of line as she peers at him. Long and hard. The tip of her tongue peeks out, running along the inside edge of her upper lip, as though there's something she can taste. "You taste like… hmm. Not death." Her eyes narrow a bit and her head tilts over some to the other side. "Death's too cold. Too… peaceful. You're all fire and conflict. Clearly though, not a demon." She doesn't worry about trying to whisper. Even with the crowds they're too wrapped up in their own heads and with the pair of them sitting on the bench, there's an invisible circle around them that people seem to naturally follow the curve of.
"I'm not anywhere I don't belong. I don't know that you can make the same claim."
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"I am in the place I call home. Do you mean to try to remove me?" Curiosity dances in those eyes. Most would find this conversation a bit adversarial. Fenris is not… most people. Interesting people are interesting no matter the reason why. That said it's mildly disturbing how many outright demonic things he's run into in the past few days. It's the sort of thing that's apt to put him on edge. That sort of activity attracts attention and he's really trying to avoid any being specifically directed at him from Certain People.
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Illyana's flicks downward, then back up, taking him in before briefly sliding out over the milling throng. "I think trying to remove you against your will would cause a lot of collateral damage. I'm supposed to be one of the good guys." She tilts a smirk back his way, knowing the incongruousness of that statement given what his senses have imparted to him.
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The lean man nods. "That is a possibility, yes. And I've no more desire to draw that kind of attention than you."
He lets out a sigh and follows Illy's gaze out to the crowd and the buildings. For a moment, just a moment, he can almost see them crushed and burning, hear the screams of the panicked crowd and the blaring of distant sirens. "Wolfson." He says turning back. "Jeremiah Wolfson." That seems an odd name, likely, for someone that tastes as he does, but it's the one he offers. "So you are 'one of the good guys' then?'
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"Well I figure if I tell myself that enough I might actually believe it." Illyana says, giving him a smirk that's more self-depreciating than mocking. She mulls his name over a bit before offering her own in return. "Illyana Rasputina." Her English doesn't hold any of her native Russian accent, but her name does. "And despite what you're picking up I *am* human." Just not even mostly. Not where it really counts.
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The two have been chatting long enough for Illy to be likely able to tell that some of the magic she's sensing is coming from objects on this man's person. The thin silver necklace for one and something under his coat. Also his Russian is really, really good.
"Your parentage was unusual, I take it?"
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The question brings a small huff of amusement from Illyana. "Rumored to be my great-grandfather, but I haven't spoken to my parents since I was very young." Because they'd be very confused at their daughter being nearly a decade older than she should be. The second question gets a shake of her head. "No, no. My parents are really quite ordinary. I spent a good portion of my childhood… elsewhere though." The items of magic may make her curious and draw her attention, but like the fluency with her native tongue, not entirely unexpected for someone with his apparent background.
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"Mmmmmmm. I had not known his line survived. Curious, if true, but then otherworldly did run in the family back then, or so it is said."
"You were raised Elsewhere? Ah now that is interesting." It suggests among other things that she has something of a pedigree. "There are many Elsewhere's to be found. I'm quite certain I'd recognize the scent of my own, so that at least limits it."
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"If you were mine, I'd know it." Illyana replies back with a quick grin that flashes teeth. Despite the banter, she keeps fairly still without being tense and not infringing on his 'space'. "So you live in M-Town hmm? I'd have expected something more lofty. Or a heck of a lot dirtier." The force of his presence is strong enough to warrant caution, but it's hard to tell which way all that power leans.
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Now his smile has teeth. "Ah yes, which is partly why I do neither. The people of M-Town understand the value of privacy. Many of them have enough more than enough experience at losing it that they're willing to grant it to others in all but extraordinary circumstances. I do this place and its people no harm. So they leave me alone." He is no longer tense, convinced that whatever Illyana represents, she is not a threat to his hunting grounds. Not like Klarion and his infuriating cat. "Do you live here? I find it curious that I have not sensed the echoes of your power before if you do."
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Illyana gives a shake of her head. "No. I visit from time-to-time. I live Elsewhere." Entirely true too, since she's between housing at the moment as well. Having recently graduated from NYU, she moved out of where she was staying. She gives a slight nod at the observation on privacy. "I suppose that's true enough. Makes me wonder if you can build a real community that way though. All that keeping-to-oneself." It has the air of a philosophical question, and not an actual critique.
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"It depends on how you define 'community.' Humans have curious tendencies toward both inclusion and exclusion. Observe, to take a mundane example, sports team fandoms. Put two strangers in a city hostile to their chosen team and they are instantly best of friends, even if they wouldn't have given one another the time of day in their home town. Presented with an outside force, humans of all stripe tend to band together. At least long enough to make the inevitable falling out exceedingly awkward." He flashes a sharp smile on that point, shaking his head as if he's seen it a million times. Which he has.
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"Enough to develop a culture and sense of place. Enough to move past the bonds of suffering the same prejudice to something…" Illyana shrugs. "Deeper, I suppose." She turns her attention back to Jeremiah. "So essentially, you're 'laying low'?"
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Fenris nods with a genuinely amused chuckle. "For some time now, yes, though it has gotten much easier with the rise of humans who are more than human. One unusual man stands out a lot less when people can fly and shoot lances of heat from their eyes, or when entire nations of Amazonian women are revealed and their demi-godlike princesses walk among us. Oh yes, that has made laying low quite easy indeed. Save, apparently, when I encounter those such as you who can sense that I am not what I appear to be."
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"Fair's fair." Illyana replies with that slight smirk again and the sense that fair is rarely, if ever, fair. "You noticed me, too. Sounds like you've been doing this a while." She arches a brow slightly. "Usually means you've done something pretty bad." Her tone is light, not accusing.
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"That may be the understatement of my lifetime." Fenris shakes his head. "My deeds have echoed through time even to this place, though humans remember them only as myth and legend. It is one reason among many that I do not often give out my proper name to those who do not already know it. Among my own kind my name is a curse and a fearful whisper." The man pauses as if lost in thought. "Though the same claim can be made for many, I suppose. I am unique only in that I tired of my role in the story."
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Illyana turns a bit more towards Fenris, one arm hooking over the back of the bench as she watches and listens to him. She hmmms softly, and the way she looks him over might be trying to pick up more clues as to his specific identity but nothing overt. "Sometimes I wonder if living too long drives people… beings, whatever, mad." Would certainly explain a lot!
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There are things that may be clues. His predatory aura is one. It's as if whatever magic he uses to alter his shape cannot disguise the less physical parts of his being. Or perhaps that a mortal form is unsuited to containing his essence. Then there's his appearance itself. Tall, lean, runners build with sharp features and a gaze most would find unnervingly intense. Her magical senses may reveal other things. The faint sound of war cries and ringing steel just on the edge of the awareness, the tang of fire but not brimstone in the air.
"Perhaps. Even immortal minds can only take so much abuse. The more when one's memory is particularly keen. To remember ever slight, every hurt, every wound… the pain builds after a time if not dealt with in some fashion. The most benevolent of beings let such things go as a matter of their nature. The rest of us? We must make do as best we can." He includes Illyana in that 'rest of us' with a nod of his head.
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Illyana regards Fenris for a long time. Most people would probably find it unnerving, being under that kind of silent appraisal for such an extended period. But it doesn't have the air of her trying to discomfort him, just that she doesn't have a terrible need to fill the time with words. Instead, she takes her time. Takes him in. "And is it lonely? Making do?"
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'Wolfson' sits quietly as she regards him, returning it much more casually. He's not probing what she is so much as just watching her now. "For some, not so." He clearly has some people in mind. His voice has become quieter, pensive. "For me? Often. To get to close to the center of human events is to court attention from on high unwisely and returning home is… not an option that is palatable to me. So yes, often lonely. Do you find it so? Or are you fortunate enough to be on better terms with your peers?"
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Again that long quiet before she answers. "Yes… And no." Illyana gives a slight shake of her head. "My… human friends can't understand that other half of me, and so no matter how hard they try they hold me to a standard I can't meet. The same is true of the other side. Though there is admittedly much less trying." She slants another smirk his way. "Different situation." She notes of the pair of them. He can't go home. She… doesn't quite have one.
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His head cants now, his regard slightly more precise. "But neither are a sufficiently attractive option that they can entice you from simply sitting here and watching the world flow by?" He finds this curious. But then, he's a social creature at heart, just one without the ability, really, to socialize. "Mortal and Below are not the only two options in the universe, after all."
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"Sometimes I get tired of it." Illyana says with a mild shrug. "So I spend time in the one place, some in the other, and some… neither." The smirk she gives him this time is tight. "Maybe I figure if I watch them long enough, I'll suddenly Get It. Understand what I was supposed to be."
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"Take it from someone who was precisely what he was supposed to be for an eternity - It's less fulfilling than you might imagine." With that he stands. "I think, perhaps, I should be on my way. Though I would not object to continuing this conversation later. You'd be able to find me if you truly wished to, I expect."
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Illyana doesn't rise when he does, only lifting her gaze. There's a slight chuckle and she nods. "You're hard not to notice, when one knows what to look for." She admits. She's much more unlikely to just drop in on him unexpectedly though. Illyana may be brash and cocky, but stupid? Never.
"Good afternoon, Wolfson."
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