2023.08.15 Thar Be Monsters Down Thar

Thar Be Monsters Down Thar
Sark, Stella, and Wulfra explore a forgotten Bygone haven and meet a new face
IC Date	August 15, 2023
IC Time	Daytime
Players	Sark, Stella, Wulfra, Vic
Location	Underground, Globe Theater
Spheres	Bygone

So Sark would have returned one afternoon, insistent that Stella put on her 'urban grunge' outfit and come back with him. Reminding her of the Globe Theater they looked at months and months ago, he might have said something about talking to Wulfra and agreeing to try and give the place a second chance, despite Shazia being a stingy bitch about it.

So there's the SUV, and a small trip cross down to the theater. And then a heading in through the back. Wait, the lock on that door wasnt broken, was it? Sark doesn't seem to care. And down to the theater floor...and then backstage. And then all the way in the back to a trapdoor that leads underground, all the while Sark sounding pretty excited like nothing could possibly go wrong here.

Stella does remember that theater! She'd ask something about things changing? Wasn't it a no-go before? "I love the venue. It's ... to sound redundant -- dramatic. In interesting ways. Does this mean I get to meet other ... others?" In public she tries not to be too specific. She did her best with urban grunge. Her hair is up in two knots atop her head (she did not color her hair). She's got on round dark glasses with small sized lenses. Her top bares her shoulders and stops at her also-bare midriff. Her red plaid pants but, even more, her black, thick-soled ankle boots give her the kind of cred that Sark suggested. The rest? It's certainly a different look for Stella.

https://i.pinimg.com/236x/57/f8/07/57f8078402f4f4b2c0b36c4ca38baa46.jpg (most of 'fit except hair color and top, but close) � https://i.pinimg.com/564x/dd/73/50/dd735096d3c958bc73b066cfb9239877.jpg (top) �

With a vintage looking paisley bag with a 1960's gold hued background over her shoulder Stella keeps up with Sark with a look of anticipation behind those dark (but small) lenses -- otherwise pretty successfully pulling off a been-there-seen-that-whatever sort of visual demeanor.

"I don't remember the trap door. Damn, Easy. Could you make this any --more-- mysterious?" She climbs down as necessary whatever-there-is from the trapdoor and blinks a bit to get her bearings. The dark glasses come off and get hooked at her hip into those plaid pants, one side of the glasses tucked inside the pants to keep them there.

After a glance around, she says, "We're going to need to buy a flat of candles. And probably matches or a bunch of disposable lighters. What do you think? A flat of water, too?" This is NOT Stella's place. She's fortunate to even BE here. But already she's thinking about ways to stash the honeycomb hideout with needed and just keen supplies. Fortunately for everyone, she's not listing her thoughts about novelty items.

Oh yes. The underground remnants of a space built for who-knows-what with the above historied theatre... the scars of the fire still showing on the upper parts of the walls. Dark. Hollow. Mysterious. Who knows what still lies here, beyond that blackness, tucked away in these long-forgotten rooms?

One thing's for sure, as the Stella and Sark come down the trapdoor to bask in the space, there's a persistent feeling that they're being watched. The air has a draft to it from who-knows-where, and there's no signs of the Wulfra Sark called over before here.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Stella rolls Perception(3) + Alertness(2) (5 dice) vs 6 for 4 successes. 2 +7 +8 +8 +10 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

Sark, apparently does not give two shits if they are being watched, as he chatters off while he heads in, "Well, maybe a few, but we have this nice big fire pit...make sure the trapdoor shuts behind you..." He stops at the ring of the firepit and waits a moment, then shakes himself out a bit and allows his little human form to relax and reshape itself into the more annoying gold scaly self. He shakes his head as if to clear it and only warns, "Dont get too close.." before opening his mouth and rolling his shoulders, allowing a brilliant stream of flowing yellows and oranges to spew out of his mouth and spray over the center of the firepit, lighting the material left behind pretty instantly as it sticks to things like napalm. Once he's satisfied the fire is lit and will provide some better lighting and take off the chill, he takes a step back and collapses back into his more human guise, grumbling, "There. Was too damned cold in here."

Stella does indeed close the trap door. She's wandering the periphery of the large room with a little bit of tingling at the back of her neck. But when Sark says not to get too close -- she's plenty far away, she takes three steps further back. Even more than the glow of that spectacular stream of fire and then the immediate crackling of the fire pit don't explain all of the glow in her green eyes at the spectacle, though she sighs to herself when he changes back to human form. She does look a little amused at Sark calling it cold (even if it makes sense) because she always finds him warm. "A firepit like that needs stories. All kinds of stories--" she begins and then halts and gives Sark at first a weighted Look until he truly looks at her, then she skims her gaze around the dark fringes of the room and shoots him another look, this one wary and inquiring.

The brilliant stream of flame illuminating the giant fire pit -does- change the room from being a great yawning chamber of darkness to an atmospheric underground lair, showing off the side doors and passageways of the place. Indeed, because of them and the many sconces with burnt-out candles lining the place, much of it is still claimed by the blackness. It remains quiet, save for their speaking, until... -crash-. The sound of something falling down in one of those back rooms behind a stained door.

Sark rumbles softly, "Well, if we are able to get others out of the woodwork, then there will be plenty of chances for others to share their stories. Most of us, even very young ones such as myself and Wulfra, have still had enough time to have interesting lives and interesting things happen to us." He's about to say more to something else Stella might have whispered in his head, when the crash happens. Sark frowns a little and takes a step forward to put himself between Stella and the sound, and lifts his voice, "Wulfra, that better be you still down here or Im gonna set more shit on fire."

The room fully illuminated is just ... perfect for what it's going to formally be ... informally, she assumes. She gives Sark that first Look. Transmits some sort of cautious query to or at him as he speaks about stories. "If she didn't run away -- or maybe the mythical bouncers will toss me out -- it could happen!" she interrupts herself to say playfully. Then back to her topic "-- I'd enjoy hearing her st--"

• • Crash!**

Stella grips her bag that's over her shoulder and darts over toward Sark, though if he hadn't moved in front of her, her trajectory was to stand -- seriously? -- in FRONT of HIM. But in the moment, she settles for standing behind his tall form and peeking around his bicep her two bundles of knotted hair atop her head visible along with her forehead and her green eyes. Very, very softly, she whispers, "Some drugs make humans super strong and, obviously, rather impervious to pain." Sark says Wulfra's name and that stops Stella's postulating. Oh. Wulfra. Such a better option! She whispers, "She likes chocolate, right? I brought along a large ziploc of those brownies." Because of course she did. Stella doesn't tend to go anywhere without one of her larger bags that rarely match what she's wearing. The complete contents of her bag on any given day are usually a mystery.

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Sark rolls Perception + Alertness vs 6 for 4 successes. 2 2 5 +7 +8 +9 +10 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============-------------> Wulfra loses one Willpower

<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Stella rolls Perception(3) + Alertness(2) (5 dice) vs 6 for 5 successes. +7 +8 +9 +9 +9 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->

That seemingly endless auxillary hall wherein the passageway to that sound likes stands in silent domination over the chamber. The subtle crackling and rumbling of the flame only serving to make their eyes less adjusted to the darkness doesn't much help, but hey... at least it means if something comes out, it will be visible... right?

Perhaps. But, after many drawn out moments of silence, that aged wooden door creaks... then achingly slowly drags open, the even more complete darkness within becoming revealed one inch at a time. Is there something? Nothing? It is impossible to tell, and no answer comes. Was it nothing? An animal gotten in? An old place just being old? Well, -that- answer does come... when the giant fire next to them suddenly and inexplicably goes out, smoke billowing in on itself and leaving but a scattered cloud that disappears into the darkness now embracing them.

But, both of their senses have been honed to a razor's edge by their nerves. The sudden removal of all (or a portion of it for the Sark) only makes the subtle -woosh- of movement around them, much like the 'draft' before, that much clearer. The hairs on the back of their neck are most definitely standing up... for something is riiight behind them.

And, if they were to turn, they would see it. Eyes. Piercing, glowing eyes in nonseical arrangements cutting through the darkness like gaping wounds towering over the two. Sark, even with his nightsight, can see that the amorphous shape they belong to to is as dark as the room itself.

Sark blinks when the fire goes out, muttering, "Goddamnit..." but then he has the eyes to finally focus on. For the moment, Sark remains in his human for for the moment, which might be a little indicator to Stella about how much danger he really considers them both to be in.

He squints a little into the darkness, trying to make details out, then cranes his look back up at those eyes before murmuring, "You got something against fire?" Does he know who this is? Its hard to tell from his reaction.

Stella doesn't utter a peep at the nerve-wracking, slow creak of the door opening. She stands very, very still and very very close up behind the notably taller Sark-human. The firepit simply extinguishing (she's seen how long flames linger after Sark has breathed his dragon fire on them) results in her hands gripping his human-form's sides VERY tightly through his shirt before she lets go of him completely. If he needs to move, she won't impede that.

Stella is trembling with adrenalin, trying to conceive of any possible scenario and what she would do (fear the utterly UN-mighty Stella!) -- but the permutations of possibilities are too many in a place created or overtaken for bygones to gather. Sark remains in his human form. Can he hear her heart beating so quickly? Stella keeps blinkblinking as if it would help her see better in the (entirely pitch black no light?) thick darkness.

It's the whoosh for Stella that has her whirl one eighty degrees to stand beside Sark facing opposite directions, arm-to-arm IF he's still facing the other way down the hallway.

Sark's dry question about fire seems to even out Stella's breathing (mostly). Wisely or incredibly stupidly, she slowly reaches out her right hand into the pitch black space in front of her now (instead of behind her) to see if her fingers encounter anything while whispering threadily, the whisper hiding the tremble to her voice for the most part. "I brought brownies."

The moment between the two's revelation as to what's been causing this weirdness and their speech out into its darkness is, of course, too long. Some of those eyes look to Sark, some to Stella, some at who-knows-what, as a voice finally comes. Familiar to Sark, somewhat familiar to Stella... but whispy, ethereal, like multiple raspy whispers combining into one almost-voice. `You did not even ask me if I was ready.` It offers to Sark.

Stella's reaching out, meanwhile, touches nothing but surprisingly warm drafty air... until she can feel a "hand" that feels hard, smooth, and sharp grab onto hers and give it a firm shake. Sark can see the limb itself gripping onto hers manifesting from that amorphous shape. Gotta be polite with the human customs! `What kind of... brownies? I shall try!`

Sark murmurs, "There's still plenty of dark you can slink around in. And asking if you were ready would be anti-climactic." He does, however, smile a little and eyes Stella as she tries to offer her hand, reaching out, himself, to give her back a light, reassuring scritch. Lowering his voice a bit more, he offers, "I dont know that they are volcano chocolate, but they ARE good chocolate."

He gives that a moment before murmuring, "Stella is good with the paperwork, so I wanted her to take a look and she might have some recommendations as to what we cna do, with Shazia being uncooperative."

Stella startles at the unusual whisper/s, but remains where she's standing so Sark knows where she is just in case. They haven't experimented so very much with what he sees in the dark and what he does not (at least not for Stella's ability to predict). Why is the first thought that comes to Stella's mind is 'ready or not: here I come'? She's quite certain that THAT is not the kind of inquiry about being ready that's being accused-reminded.

She breathes in quickly, that breath catching halfway as the hard, smooth, and sharp hand grasp hers and then ... shake it. Abruptly it strikes her as funny despite the fact that she's not at all certain that they're in the clear yet. But given Sark mentioning Wulfra's name and then the nature of that whisper -- along with the very businesslike shake of her hand, she's betting with the odds. "The best brownies, she murmurs low and quiet. "They're dark chocolate and so moist and very difficult to stop eating at just one."

Sark speaks up -- in the meanwhile, Stella still cannot see a thing, so she's left to try to intuit the situation by the voices and words. But after a moment of silence, something seems to relax Stella quite a bit for one who can see and or sense such things. Sark adds to her description. "He had them first," she tells the unseen being that she's assuming is Wulfra. "-- while I was riding Thor and I brought them in my bag along with a gift. Today, though, the brownies --are-- the gift." Pause. "Of course I can't procure one for you until I can see."

Ah yes, paperwork. Stella can work magic with paperwork and finances and has 'colleagues' who can help her with the go-arounds with ownership and legal technicalities. "I read some of it over before we came, but I was hoping to get a lay-of-the-land feel to see if we need to bring someone in to check to make sure the structure is sound. For example, I didn't have a chance yet to see if there is a flue for the smoke from the fire pit to allow the smoke to escape the space. And I want to see all the rooms before I decided about a very discrete inspector. THEN we'll talk to Gladwell about legal hoops and work-arounds."

Stella's trembling demeanor washed away once she started in on business talk. Probably far more of it than either of the other two present need to or want to know. "I'm thinking at least we might have a case of dereliction of property and ... at the extreme end of things, squatters rights. But I'm not so sure about that bit. I don't want officials in and around checking on who might be present at any given time. Better to try a few monetary or other more interesting offers to the owner to begin."

She shoots a glance up to where she THINKS Sark's head might be given his voice in the pitch black and says dryly, "Maybe don't describe me as good with paperwork. It makes me sound like a bureaucrat instead of the maestro of financial, property, and other investment management that I am." Her smile is audible.

Vic comes in from Old Globe Theatre - Backstage Vic has arrived.

Some of the eyes, presumably the ones looking at Sark, narrow slightly. `The chocolate place got closed, yes, but I have a stash of the special mix... ordered much. Intense chocolate is good, yes, tastes like good bleach and ammonia. Bitter.` After that, Stella's subsequent explanation of the brownies brings more eyes to stare at her. `Good good. But yes... you cannot see. I put out the fire. Fine. I will make it up for you.`

True to those vague words, the darkness is once more broken by a torrent of fire. It comes out strangely green, as the eyes are now, but once the firepit is lit, the green slowly fades into a normal orangey-red. Seamlessly, too, those nonsensical bunches of eyes shift... and the form of the thing comes down to reveal a much more familiar too-many-limbed mass of black plates suspended in condensed smoke and not-fur drifting aimlessly through the air as a mane. The eyes reveal themselves to be wedged up in those spaces between the large plates where that strange roiling energy shows itself, but they quickly vanish under vapor condensed from clear, to grey, to black. The ones on her face slide around until they're back in a more... usual arrangement... and Wulfra stares at the two with a big glowing-toothy grin. `Paperwork. A complicated system that I have only begun to understand the surface of... I am glad you are an expert in it. I still need to create a proper identity within society instead of simply using gifted untraceable bills.` That smoke-trailing tail stretches out to stick into the firepit as her four nostrils flare a bit, snout pushing up to Stella. `Now that you can see, where are those brownies....`

The yawning chamber hiding under the old theatre would be completely dark if not for the now roaring firepit in the center. There are still many pockets of darkness, especially down the echoing halls, giving it a decidedly spooky atmosphere. Sark and Stella stand before a... large thing, what you might imagine to be the result of someone describing a dragon to something from an alien world. Its smoke and the fire's smoke mingle together seamlessly.

The footfalls of someone on the stairs announces someone else coming down from above, along with an unsure mutter of, "Bet there's a damn axe murderer hiding down here or something..," followed by a slightly louder, "Hello?" once the fact there are voices coming from below actually reaches his ears. Vic finishes descending, looking like the college student he usually is in a pair of cargo shorts and a loose grey tee, he's even got a baseball cap on from the university which is squashing his unnaturally red hair down, leaving just some peeking out around the cap.

Yellow eyes flick across the room, taking it and the occupants in at the same time. A quick glance at Stella, then Sark which brings back a memory that also makes him slightly queasy to dwell on for too long, then to Wulfra. "Well, holy shit." He reaches up and pulls off his cap, rolling the brim to tuck in his back pocket, though he's holding up his other hand, maybe in greeting, or maybe in a 'please don't fireblast me I'm friendly, honest' pose. "Guess this is a safe place then?" He doesn't sound sure as those eyes flick around again, but he does look hopeful.

Stella is still blind in the pitch black during the initial chocolate conversation. She releases Wulfra's hand-claw with an eerie sense that she's being looked over. "I promise that I taste much worse than the brownies, in case you were considering it, Wulfra," she says with a mostly dry tone ... in the dark.

Green fire. It's so much light after none at all that Stella lifts a hand to half shield her eyes and she jumps back several steps not to be so close to the eyebrow-threatening heat of it from that proximity. There's quite a bit of blinkblinking before she lowers her head. "Green fire," she observes utterly unnecessarily. "That's really lovely." Then she almost looks like she bites her tongue, so quickly does she snap her mouth shut, looking with slightly wide eyes at Wulfra as if expecting who-knows-what to happen as a result of her compliment.

If no metaphorical houses of cards collapse, Stella heaves a huge but not loud sigh and murmurs, "Let there be light. And on the first day there were dragons. My favorite day."

Stella inevitably regards the way Wulfra shifts around and how that bit of energy is revealed and the fluff that charmed her once upon a time what seems like so long ago. Plates shift as do colors.

It might be that Stella isn't accustomed to big glowing-toothy grins in response to her ability to expertly manage paperwork. "As Sark says, I would be pleased to help you with dealing with all the minutia of living in human society. And, in fact, I have contacts if you would like to arrange for an identity that will stand up under scrutiny should you need the documents.

Stella may have leapt back at the re-lighting of the fire pit, but she finds Wulfra's snout nudging up to her and ... she stills, gazes at those (extra) eyes for a bit and then hazards a hint of a smile (so discrepant with her usual demeanor; yet a significant moment in this scenario). So... she crouches down, balancing on the balls of her feet in those thick-soled black shoes and she swings her paisley atop gold vintage shoulder bag around in front of her to pull out a gallon size ziploc full of squares of moist looking, dark chocolate brownies. Opening the bag yields -- to noses that like chocolate -- a marvelous scent.

Briefly Stella glances to Sark. "That Charlotte woman left? Well, that was quick. And you were going to take HER chocolates home? That might have proved interesting in any variety of ways."

With one hand, Stella reaches in and pulls out brownie to offer Wulfra even as she's craning her head around from where she's crouched to see the owner of the voice as he comes into view. Frankly, Stella stares. The first three words after Vic is in view tip a curving, natural smile to her lips. It suits her; the clothes? Not as much. But how would a stranger know that? Stella's smile quirks to something wry and mildly amused, though not seemingly at Vic's expense so much as at the word 'safe'. "Hi," Stella offers. There might be some etiquette (particularly in this place) but she doesn't know it yet. "I'm Stella Green. And I can't breathe fire without eating foods that are spicier than I can stand." Pause. "I like your hair." She'd go further, but she's waiting for cues from the two bygones who are present. She rises from her crouch and holds up her large ziploc. "Fresh brownies. No pot. Just the traditional. Want one?"

The smoky dragon-thing tilts their head slightly at Stella's comment on their fire color. They glance between it and her several times. `It is... only green like that after I eat nice yummy evil spirits or... certain chemicals. I do not fully understand why.` But, then there is more paperwork talk. Wulfra just nods, angling their snout so the smoke doesn't go -right- in Stella's face. It seems like they're about to say something, but then the topic of the brownies comes up once more. All but a few eyes watch closely as the source of the smell is revealed, and Wulfra is -very- quick to crane that head down to the opening of the bag. One might expect a sniff, or a messy pushing of the face down into it, but rather... a pointy tendril-tongue glowing as if it too were made of pure fiery energy slides out, down into the bag, and coils dextrously around a few of the brownies before hoisting them back up into the waiting maw. `Mmmrrrhhh... yes. Could be stronger, but very acceptable, yes.`

But, oh. There's a voice. A presence. Are they found out? Will they get to plunge the place into darkness once more and take care of it? Those eyes dart over, tail lifting out of the bonfire with scattered embers as that glowing maw opens once more... before Wulfra freezes. Her head raises, then tilts slightly, stance becoming more relaxed, yet still questioning. `You... Vic? How did you find this place? What do you mean by safe? Speak now....` Sark watches teh Wulfra as she inspects the brownies and chuckles softly under his breath at her pronoucement about the taste. His attention shifts along with everyone else when Vic pipes up, turning more to face the newcomer and clasping his hands behind his back. He keeps his voice down, waiting for Wulfra to speak first before he offers, "You were at the party on campus last week, yes? I didn't get a chance to try to talk to you because things were a little crazy. As for safe...you could say that. Those who behave themselves and are not a threat, have nothing to be concered about, here. Come closer so the big one can get your scent, and introduce yourself?" Vic didnt start screaming AHHH SMOKE DRAGON so apparently Sark's given him a few points in the interaction.

"Oo, brownies." And Vic even takes a step in Stella's direction before he realizes the offer probably didn't include him at the moment and stops in his tracks. Or maybe because the dragon spoke his name without him introducing himself, so he's squinting in Wulfra's direction. "Your impressive friend over there got it right. I'm Vic. And yeah, still get a little woozy trying to remember that particular rager. I think I'm swearing off straight vodka."

With his hat tucked away, he reaches up and musses up his hair so it's not stuck in hat hair mode, maybe preening a little under Stella's compliment of it. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to this whole thing." He points his finger down but twirls it in a circle. "Not sure if there's an axtual etiquette or not, I had a teacher for a bit but she kind of, well, I think she got tired of me and flew off." He shrugs, a definite 'what are you going to do about it' expression on his face. "I'm rambling, aren't I?" Wulfra has reconnected.

Stella takes a step and then another forward in Vic's direction, further from the fire. "Help yourself. My hands were clean when I put them INTO the bag, but I can't speak to that after having climbed down here. They just came out of the oven late last night." They're excellent brownies, truth be told. The brunette adds with a faint tip of her head and a thoughtful look at Vic as if assessing how well the name fits the young man. "Vic? Hmmm." Swearing off vodka? "Yes. Tequila and I have a love-hate relationship. But I think that's just tequila's claim to fame. So you're a college student? What are you studying?" She draws back her ziploc playfully. "Are you of age to partake of my perfectly innocent brownies?" The bag is outstretched and wide open in offering once more. 

Stella frowns the slightest bit as she hears the story about Vic's teacher. "Well that was rude and irresponsible. I'm sure I can teach you everything you need to know about being a ....." It's a shameless attempt to figure out what Vic is, and her smile and twinkling green eyes suggest she damn well knows it (and that a verbal hand in the face wouldn't be unexpected in return). "Personally? I would say you barely scratched the door of rambling. And so far I quite enjoy it. But I might not be the best judge of said ...." Stella clears her throat with a tossed side-eye at Sark and back again. "... TALENT."

Many of those piercing eyes of magma stare to Vic unblinkingly... and, despite their head not moving at all, that tendril-tongue emerges once more... this time covered in -eyes-. It curves around to the side, navigating several feet in length to reach the brownie bag and take some once more. Pulling back that impossible distance to bring the brownies back, Wulfra lets out a long, low rumble. `Fly. There are only a few categories of flying things... and humans are not among them. So... perhaps you are in the correct place at the correct time after all. I will not need to eat you.` The huge smoky thing says this bluntly in their deep, whispy voice before stepping forwards more, looking down at Vic.

`It is a good thing too. I would not like to eat someone who knows what good hot wings are.` Wulfra says revealingly, lips curling up into an unnaturally large smirk as that neck cranes down to the man, soft smoke billowing with each breath. `We both hide in the flesh, hm? Now you see me... but I would very much like to see you, too.` Sark eyes that tongue as Wulfra grabs another brownie, and murmurs in the most matter-of-fact voice someone could manage, like mentioning someone's car was a hideous color, "You know that eyes on the tongue thing is creepy as hell, right?" He's even smiling just a little when he says it. However, his attention returns almost immediately to Vic, slowly nodding at the explation, and with Wulfra's request to see the 'real' him, "I am Sarkesian the Gilded, and this is my human companion and assistant, Stella Green - who is quite safe, and trusted with our true natures. OUr larger dark friend here can introduce herself how she sees fit. HOwever, yes, I have been curious since the party as to what your nature is, if you dont mind sharing."

"Is there a legal age for perfectly normal brownies?" Vic says as he examines the brownies a little closer. Stella's shameless dig gets a bright smile, at least until the tongue eyes get a dubious look from Vic and confuse him enough he's not quite sure what to make of it so instead actually stops talking to just stare for a few moments. "I mean, if you want to eat me, I don't think I could stop you. But I'm not sure either of use would enjoy the experience, not with perfectly good brownies." The mention of hot wings has him snapping his fingers. "Hah! Well that explains it."

"Sure, if it'll ease minds." He takes a step back from Stella, shaking his hands as if warming up for a performance. Then he's engulfed in flames that don't actually burn or exude heat, though they do provide another source of illumination in the basement for a moment. Until left behind where he was standing is a large bird of fiery plumage that still glows softly, golden eyes blaze however. With a hop and a flap of his wings he hops up on to the back of a chair, letting out a call that's somewhere between bird song and the crackling of flames before dipping his beak into the brownie bag and plucking one out. Stella gets a quick wink from the phoenix before he hops over to another chair with his brownie prize, perhaps fluffing his plumage just a bit in a preening display. Birds will bird afterall.

Stella actually startle jumps at the eyeball-tongue as it snakes around her and her open and offered bag. "I didn't know you could just .... put eyeballs anywhere, Wulfra." It's a bit of a wide generalization and Stella doesn't know many things about Wulfra. So she just stares at eyeball-tongue dipping into the bag again. "Does that mean you can see things with your tastebuds and taste things with your eyes?" Stella seems to think her questions is perfectly logical. Sark's commentary makes Stella starts laughing at the direct statement, a reaction which she quickly tries to cover up with a faux coughing fit. "Ahem. Pardon me. Don't worry, I'm not sick. Something just went down ... FUNNY."

Stella is just catching up to 'fly' when Wulfra speaks and Stella can tell that the black extra-limbed dragon is much closer behind her even though that voice is quiet. There is also the 'hint' of more smoke from Wulfra's breathing. She opens her mouth and turns her head back to look over her shoulder at Wulfra when 'hot wings' hits her imagination. It seems very non-sequitur to the brunette with her hair up in two bundles atop her head. "I like buffalo wings, but not the super hot kind," she offers. "Does that mean that you WOULD like to eat me, ..." Stella can't remember if Wulfra has given her name yet, so she just adds, "-- black dragon?" Ending up looking up as Wulfra looms from somewhat close behind her.

When Sark introduces her, Stella says with a dry tone, "Someone has to keep him safe. I am but a humble warrior." Dry as the desert.

Is there a legal age? "Possibly," Stella replies thoughtfully to Vic. "But I spend both my work and play hours trying to find ways to break the rules. I simply didn't know if I was breaking some arcane rule by offering you a brownie before I knew if you were deathly allergic to chocolate or if it ... mmm ... hindered your ability to charm the socks off of whoever you tend to choose to charm the socks off of at ragers. But I think that you seem discerning enough to to decide that for yourself." Stella stage whispers, leaning forward without stepping forward, "It was the rambling. Extra credit for that." She straightens and holds out the bag again.

But then Vic steps back so Stella slices the bag behind her back for Wulfra to access if she wants more while not taking her eyes off Vic except for one more side-glance at Sark at his self-introduction. She'll offer more now, or soon, once Vic does whatever it is that he does.

A bygone with stagecraft. Stella's smile appears ever so slightly as she watches, unapologetic about her interest. Three words: engulfed in flames. Stella's lips part ever so slightly as she watches, her eyes widening for a brief moment. No heat though. That's something she'll think more in depth about later. Whatever color flames they are, they do add a new flicker of illumination to the underground walls around them.

The large bird is then there where the college student stood and Emilia actually steps a half step forward and then back again quickly, quelling the desire to look more closely, maybe touch because she's Stella. There is a bird with fiery and fantastical plumage perched on THAT CHAIR. She can't help it. She steps about three paces forward to within arm's reach of the phoenix and uses the brownies as an excuse to be that close. "You glow," she whispers to the phoenix. "Does that hurt -- the changing thing?" Strange question when the fire wasn't hot. When that glorious head dives into the ziploc, Stella does laugh -- it's a beguiled, fascinated laughter. "That's .... damn ... that explains the hair." Does it Stella? Does it really? "I hope I don't offend you if I say that you are ... mmm ... pretty or handsome don't quite do you justice. How about stunning or fantastical? Riveting?" She does note when Sark runs upstairs to check on something, looking almost like she's about to follow when he tells her not to. "Woe is me. Stuck down here with Black Beauty and Fire Flies."

Stella lifts her fingers to dare to pet the air beside some plumage without making any contact at all -- her fingers are surely too dirty to touch --those-- feathers. "Just so it's clear. I'm mostly just a mortal. I fancy myself a protector, but the best I'll do is either arrange paralyzing litigation, pay the right sort of thugs to do what I want done, or arrange for a tooth-and-nail full body cavity tax audit ... or ... throw myself in front of some flying weapon. I'm pretty sure it'll be the latter. But then I always did like a good story." Now who's rambling. Stella turns ninety degrees so neither Vic nor Wulfra are out of her peripheral vision. "What are your thoughts, Black Beauty?" (Forgive if Wulfra gave her name and I missed it. She would use the name if it HAS been given.)

Wulfra gives Sark a sideways -glare- at his disparaging comment on her tongue eyeballs. `How else was I supposed to see where it was going? I did not think there would be any issue considering it has no stingers or fangs like the things where... well, nevermind.` But, Stella on the other claw, actually offers good questions! `Yes. I often keep them hidden, but I can see on many layers. These are a compromise for this plane.`

But, when Vic begins his transformation of fire much like her own with smoke, most eyes look to him. At seeing the beautiful glowing bird-like form, however, her eyes widen some. `An... avian. Of magical alternate-characteristic flame. Interesting... I ate bird with a bird? I suppose birds of prey do often eat other species in their diets.` She was goijg to say something to Sark, but then he's pulled away by something alerted to him on his phone. Figures. Being with Stella without him there? Guess she'd bave to be substitute dragon.

Thusly, she steps up beside Stella, in front of the chair-perched Vic. That soft-fibre covered tail wraps around her in an almost-touching part-circle shape. `You do not need to take the mantle of protection solely upon yourself all the time.` She comments lowly, before her hesd and eyes mostly turn back to Vic. `You know me. Wulfra. That is the name I've been given. Why have you come here? What is your purpose? Are you flame wreathed into avian shape or some form of forgotten species of evolution?` Of course, very easy to answer questions. Definitely. Long distance to Nova: Stella likes it! Vic's radiating a soft warmth, but once again it's only the hint of fire's heat. Not enough to burn or even grow into uncomfort. For the moment, he's trying to figure out how to eat the brownie, first extending one wing, then lifting a foot towards his beak, which after a dubious look at his own taloned appendage decides against. Nor is he going to knock back the treat with the indignant swallowing method of a seagull. Not this majestic bird. Then the questions come and he makes a only slightly muffled reply that's a series of sing-song notes. He tips back into the seat of the chair, and in another swirl of unburning flame resumes his human form, thankfully clothed.

"Sorry, I can't talk like that." He states after plucking the brownie from his mouth with a now usable hand. He grins at Stella. "Don't go stepping in the way of knives on my account. It's a temporary inconvenience at worst." He wrinkles his nose at a memory then shakes his head.

"You ate bird with a bird." He confirms to Wulfra. "Though I'm hardly a chicken so I don't think it matters. These are really good." He says through a bite of brownie, kicking one leg over the armrest of his chair. "I didn't come here, really, I've lived in Prospect most of my life. But I'm new to this whole thing, I'm not super clear on the details but what I am takes a mix of a dying human soul, passion, a whole lot of fire, and some weird twist of fate." He shrugs as if that explains it all as he takes another bite of brownie. "It sucked and hurt like hell, I don't recommend it."

It's a quixotic explanation at best when Wulfra replies to Sark. Stella abruptly realizes that Wulfra is beside her and that tail (that tail!) is half wound around her but not quite touching. Then she's being answered. "That's ... hard to get my human brain around, honestly. Our eyeballs must be very different." Not that Stella was arguing that they were alike. But she keeps having moments of possibly glimpsed (or missed) pauses with very faint furrows between her brows before she relaxes and resumes what she's doing. It's only after she has not-petted-but-petted-NEAR Vic's plumage that she realizes that Wulfra has moved up beside her and then that tail (THAT TAIL) is very delicately wound in a half circle around her red-plaid clad legs. She starts to look to Wulfra and then snaps her attention back to Vic as if actually looking at Wulfra might change some very sensitive balance and chaos might ensue. With Sark gone, Stella doesn't look like she's feels any discomfort around the bygones (at least not thus far). Besides her strange fleeting moments of something akin to startlement, she is the epitome of curiosity.

Thus, Stella listens to Wulfra and Vic converse, looking thoughtful. "I made an oath, Wulfra. I was born to care for mythicals. But, as you can see, he has left the room and I am not chasing after him. I do not demand access to all things. Nor does he ask it of me. It's not a romance or a marriage, either. Whatever you want to call it, I have been some manner of companion or assistant to one dragon or another since I was three. But, as you say, I am pleased not to be alone -- given your words. They touch my heart. I also am not afraid to die in said service."

Someone might call Stella brainwashed, except she doesn't have a repetitious script. One might call her a zealot, except her purpose isn't to destroy something, some cause, some person, or group; it's to defend one. She might sound like a member of a cult, except she doesn't worship. Not in that way. She is, as Sark said, an assistant, a companion who has a more expansive understanding to the world. She deals with the banal pieces of society so that Sark does not have to. And, if it wasn't apparent, she has a healthy admiration and no small amount of wonder for all bygones unless they give her reason to feel otherwise. Add her fae affinity and beast affinity and it all comes together logically.

To reiterate to Wulfra, "Thank you for saying those words, Wulfra."

Her attention turns back to Vic. Stella watches the awkward effort to eat the brownie in avian form, a smile growing on her lips. His song matches the rest of his majesty. Again, Stella watches with some wonder as he shifts back. "Well, I would say you CAN talk like that, just not in human tongue." Vic's grin elicits one in return from the brunette. "I'll keep that in mind." Not stepping in front of a blade or weapon to save a seemingly immortal creature from death (or at least one that re-animates and starts all over again each time). It's a wonder that Stella doesn't expire from the number of questions she desires to ask.

She offers the ziploc to Vic in case he wants another and then back to Wulfra.

"I should say this in case Sarkesian doesn't return directly. Wulfra knows this already. But Sarkesian is in the possession of an island that is not open to the general public. One can only board the ferry if one's name is on the list or permission has been called in. However, you can fly, and so here it is: your name will be added to the list of permanently welcome guests so long as you agree that you will never speak of what you know of it or its guests or owner. It is a safe place, a sanctuary if you will, for likeminded beings. And you, Vic, are welcome there."

She quite specifically describes how to get there, where the ferry picks guests up for the 40 minute trip one-way, and what landmarks a bird could follow to find it quite easily. "I speak for him in this matter with no reservation on either of our parts. On my way back this evening, I will make sure your name is on the list if you care to give me a human-used last name so that when they need an ID you can present it."

Apparently Vic and Wulfra ate wings together. Which Stella finds amusing. She listens as she watches him make himself comfortable. She, too, simply sinks to the floor with her knees bent around to one side and the ziploc readily available as she sets down her vintage, sizable bag. "So... I want to ask you a dozen questions about what you have said, but you hardly know me and it would be rude for me to interrogate you. Instead, tell me -- if you are willing -- three things about yourself that most people don't know that are interesting and things you would be willing for me to know." Her green eyes light up. Will he play her game?

Wulfra's attention on Vic is momentarily pulled away to focus solely on Stella. This is the first time it's just been -them- without Sark there besides when she happened to fall asleep under one of those smoky wings. `You are... busy... all the time, it seems. If you have been with dragons since you have been 3, then you should know that dragons, more than anything else, know how to -relax-. I used the word mantle because you have such weight on your shoulders... I see it. I wrap myself around you because the spirits here can sense that stress too, there are many who cling onto and amplify such things. I pluck them off of people to snack on all the time. They tend to stay around abandoned places such as this, I was catching one in the back room earlier... but I digress.` Of course, she drops that bombshell of information then just move on from it casually, bringing her head closer to Stella, many eyes to eyes. `Relax some, and you will be even more with us. The only weight we carry is our own.`

Then, she pulls her head away, shaking out her gravity-defying mane some before listening to Vic's responses to her questions. She stays mostly still, nodding ever-so-slightly at most answers before... he says he -used to be human.- She freezes, eyes widening some as her demeanor seems to change from relaxation to total focus. `You... you were a human? A normal member of the species? And you... came back as this? Died without dying? That is...` she trails off, none of her eyes looking at him for several moments. `I have never heard of anything like this! Oh, my mage would be so interested in hearing about this. To think you could reincarnate without actually moving onto your next life... that your spirit could give up your form when humans are famously stubborn, I mean I see those souls all ov-and you... there are others? It is a known thing that has been forgotten? This shakes up many hypothesis I have made, mmmmmrrhmmmmm....`

Wulfra is acting practically like a giant excited alien puppy, how strange! It takes her some time of this wispy, half-growled rambling before she sees the others have taken a more relaxed pose, sitting down, and thus plops herself down on her underside to be less towering over the others. The tail around Stella now makes contact, pulling her to the dragon's back right wing and allowing it to wrap around her idly like a shielding blanket. The smooth obsidian-like scales are a pleasant warmth as always. `I do not mean to be rude. We have time, yes... you do not need to tell me all at once.`

Vic happily accepts another brownie once he's polished off the first one, his smile a bit giddy as he nibbles a bit more slowly at this second one. "I'm not about to go blabing secrets, don't worry about that, and a place to stretch my wings once in a while would be wonderful." He breaks a corner off the brownie in his hands and brings it to his lips. "Vic McIntyre. Only name I've ever used. I know I'll need to trade it out at some point but that's a problem for then and not an issue my mind has fully processed yet."

"Three?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he regards Stella, a bit of avian mannerism bleeding through. "I mean you already know my biggest secret. I can count on one hand those who know, and I just added three. So that makes," he wiggles his fingers as if counting, "four." He holds out his hand with four fingers up and spread and his thumb tucked in. "I'm studying law which was something I started before all this. Not because I'm interested in it, really, but because there was someone who gave me a chance when no one else would and I admire him. Closest thing I've had to a father, so I want to do what he does." He looks upwards as if searching his memory for another item. "I guess, well, I've not always been a good person, but I'm trying to be better. I could make all sorts of excuses, but I was a shitty teenager. Because I bet if you're half as loyal to these dragons as it seems you're gonna check up on me and it's gonna come up." He smiles brightly at the end of that tidbit. "I'm telling you in the spirit of transparency." He tosses the last bit of brownie into his mouth before spreading his arms wide.

He bobs his head to Wulfra's question. "Human as they come, as far as I know. I don't know why it happened to me, but it did. I don't think I particularly deserved it either." He scratches at his jaw, expression turning a little sour as he thinks back on his memories, lingering in silence for a moment before pulling himself back to the present. "Maybe I wasn't particularly attached to my form." He looks down at himself. "Even if I did keep it somewhat. Except the hair and eyes, those changed."

Stella's attention is drawn to the side and she directly looks at Wulfra for an extended time (gasp!). It's true. There are plenty of things on Stella's plate. But she's off being fey with the fae a good portion of the time. Still, if Wulfra knows -- can SEE -- stress in Stella, she won't just write it off. She'll reflect on it more deeply at a later, quiet moment. "I have seen dragons relax quite deftly and impressively, yes. I have also seen them behave otherwise. But your point is quite valid, Wulfra." Stella listens to the reasoning about why Wulfra is 'wrapped around her'. Even for someone as cautious as Stella is in Wulfra's company, it is a soothing thing to hear. "You snack on stress demons," Stella says in her own distinctive way. "That is delightfully noble, Black Beauty." Wulfra bends her head and drifts in close to Stella who remains very still and makes eye contact with any eyes that are looking at her. And, for now, she doesn't choose to argue semantics; instead she chooses to breathe a slow deep breath and exhale even more slowly -- three times, cooperating with the suggestion and/or advice, then lifting her right hand to lightly trace a single fingertip along Wulfra's dragon jaw before dropping her hand. It is a fleeting gesture unless you ask Stella. But she doesn't speak about it. And she, too, looks back to Vic.

The brunette, in her grunge-wear that looks absolutely fine on her, but amusingly unlike her if one has seen her on multiple occasions, seems to have the same curiosity that she's had since Vic arrived, though it may be more apparent now. "How long?" she asks him, even though she's trying so hard to contain her questions for perhaps an island meeting. "You're in college now and you say you had a wicked teen life. So how long have you been what you are now? And is there any way that any of us can help to find you a better and more dependable mentor?" If there was, would he need any help in the first place? As for transparency, "It is good of you. And when you come to the island (whose name the player cannot remember atm), I will be equally candid with you, if you wish, about my past. It's a compliment that Vic suggests she is loyal. "I am loyal to the mythicals who I have known simply for what they-- you are. But of those, there are a particular number that I would say I would be honored to be called an ally.

Wulfra goes puppy and Stella's green eyes light up a little. But she makes an effort to contain herself. She does utter a quiet sigh as Wulfra's tail makes contact. The wing around he"r? -- Stella looks both bemused and gently high.

"Nice to meet you, Vic McIntyre," Stella says with all that warmth turning back to him. "Thank you for sharing the gift of your secret. I promise you that the mythical secret is one we guard closely, but not so close as not to seek out other mythicals and potential allies.

Studying law. "What kind of law are you interested in pursuing? And is this mentor still someone in your life?" It's her gentle way of asking if that inspirational person in Vic's life is still alive. "I assume you're interested in it --enough-- if you continue your pursuit."

Stella smiles one of her sparkling smiles. "What color were your hair and eyes before? And do you miss them that way, or are you happy as you are?"

Wulfra listens intently to Vic's speech, though she seems to be getting considerably more relaxed for whatever reason. `If you are not special at all, then it would not have happened... there are not people being reborn as fiery totems of earthly creatures runnin gall around. But if this difference is not obviouis, all the better... means more evaluation is in order. A delightful curiosity....` And, at Stella's mentor comment, Wulfra rumbles in agreement. `My own teacher may know something... I need to contact him again anyways, he just has a lot on his plate. Very knowledgeable in the aspects of the human-spirit relationships, as is his purview.`

Following her speech, however, Wulfra's maw suddenly opens... then opens more... then opens farther than normal jaws ever should. There's a loud -crack-, and then the somewhat horrifying 'yawn' comes to an end as she readjusts her mouth. Proving it is indeed an indication of relaxation, that head comes down to lay along the ashen ground in a full-on curled donut around Stella. A large billow of smoke is let out as Wulfra's eyes return to being fully orange rather than greenish, and her words following only come out as mumbles. `I am no lofty noble... I eat them because they are yummy. I always have. They were all I had before, but now... I can see where they lie, cling, nest, burrow. I love all the new foods here, but they fill a spot nothing else does.` There's a shuffling, the large bushel of soft almost-fluff laying over Stella and tickling her with its sublte movements. `...I could not relax before either. Stress everywhere, literally and figuratively... it was the same. To be able to rest even in moments like these? You should have no shame, no hesitation in taking them. There is time....` And, thus, all those eyes close. Quite the quick turn around from puppy mode to this, but who knows how long she's been awake for already.

There's a moment of soberness from Vic at Stella's further questioning. "Six.. no, seven months." He answers honestly with a shake of his head. "Feels like it should be longer than that." He gives a small shudder and flicks his eyes towards the ceiling. Perhaps not a memory he's fond of looking back on. Though there's a welcome change in conversation that brings back his easy smile. "He is, he's often busy but he checks in on me once in a while. I'll probably go work at a legal clinic, or become a public defender, I'm not looking to make money, I want to help." He rocks his foot to some unheard song in his head, as that grin comes back full force, though with a hint of embarassment for opening up on his ideas.

"Maybe it's silly being what I am now, but I still want to do it. More than before." He regards the lazing dragon with a look of wonder he's likely been shileding for a bit, or else his brain has finally processed what he's seeing. "Well, I know who to seek out during finals. I'll probably be trailing stress demons halfway across the city." He teases, though he mouths the words stress demons again silently, now having something else to nibble at his thoughts.

"Brown, nothing special." He says, returning his attention to Stella. "I could always dye my hair and wear contacts if I wanted but why? It's part of who I am now." His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. He takes a moment to adjust himself in the chair, sitting up straight but pulling his legs in and crossing them under him. "Glad I came out here, I could use some friends I can be open with." Writing reality out to disk. Please wait... Reality saved. Thank you for your patience.

Stella looks to Vic with a faint tip of her head and slight uplifting of her eyebrows. It's a look that says 'she's probably not wrong' after Wulfra says, in essence, that there is SOMETHING about Vic. And when Wulfra speaks about her mentor, Stella has started to pet now and then at the black dragon's neck. He has a lot on his plate. "It sounds like he needs to relax or you need to go have a big snack, you meditation monster." Her words are quiet, as if she can tell Wulfra is nearing sleep.

"That was an eleven on the yawn score sheet." She implies it only goes to ten. Stella waits until those eyes are drifting closed to disagree in a very gentle tone, "I say you --are-- noble if you devour stress. But you do not have to be lofty if you do not choose to be, dragon." Softly, not even sure if she'll get an answer, she inquires, "What is one of your favorite new foods besides chocolate?" The more out of it Wulfra gets, the less tentatively Stella pets the dragon.

Stella listens to Vic first talk about how long it has been and then light up when he talks about his mentor and what he wants to do. "Well, if you ever find that your heart's desire of helping people leaves you without sufficient funds to live a comfortable life, if you come out to the island and find that it suits you and you and Sarkesian come to an understanding, you would be welcome to live there. I may be jumping the gun a bit, but let me just reassure you that Sarkesian has a soft spot in his heart for fellow mythicals. And he is a very generous dragon. Several others have lived on the island, some still do, All have made the same formal agreement with Sarkesian. But I have not heard nor seen him ask for anything but discretion and secrecy in return. It would be a commute for you, but it really is spectacular."

It's silly? "Following your dreams is never silly unless you are ninety-five percent of middle school children who play video games and decide that they want to do that as a job, for example. All I hear is a very honorable cause and a charitable heart from an altruistic man with the best of intentions. Sure," she says with a smile. "You could be bullshitting me from hear all the way out of the building and down the avenue. But I prefer to take you at face value for now."

Stella's laughter is hushed and warm. She mouths 'stress demons' right back.

Stella takes her time and regards Vic rather thoroughly before finally saying to him in a thoughtful (thinking not aww you're so kind) tone, "I meant it when I told you I liked your hair. And your eyes are fascinating to gaze at. Almost mesmerizing." Long pause. "If that makes any difference at all." Then she holds out her hand BEFORE explaining why. "If you want to give me your phone, I'll put both Sarkesian's and my own contact information in. And then if you want us to have yours, you can text us." Her smile returns full force. "I think I can speak for the absent dragon, the sleeping dragon, and obviously myself in saying that we are all quite delighted to have met you and the offer of a quiet, safe, RELAXING place where there are others you can speak frankly to is not just pretty talk. It is sincere."

"So here's a test. What kind of music do you listen to when you study, when you want to party, and when you want to sleep, Vic?" Petpetpet. In no hurry, Stella gently pets the dozing dragon.

So Sark can be heard plodding his way back out of a dark alcove, slipping the chain that his cellphone dangles from, back around his neck. Spying Wulfra taking a snooze and Stella and Vic still chatting away, he doesnt try saying anything until he gets much closer, waiting for a pause in the conversation before he murmurs to Stella, "You will be interested to know that apparently Caressa has left town and will not be returning. Steele intends to give Caught in Amber back to the fae in the hopes they will make a hangout of it again." He does this while inspecting the brownie bag, reaching into it to see if there are any left, "I could smell the chocolate halfway across this room..."

"Thanks for the offer." Vic says from where he still sits in one of the chairs, perfectly relaxed despite what is probably a good layer of dust on the furniture. Really, he doesn't seem bothered by the surroundings at all. "I have years to go yet and a place to sleep on campus for now." Though his eyes keep drifting towards the dozing dragon as if making sure she really is still there. He's new enough to all this that it can still be a shock and he's trying to put on a show of casual acceptance.

"I've never been good at bullshitting." He replies honestly as he digs into his pocket, plucking out a smartphone that's more than a few models out of date, the screen is scratched, but not cracked, though the case has also certainly seen better days. He flips it around in his hand and holds it out towards Stella.

"Ah, we're to the music portion of the get to know you quiz." He jokes with a small smile. "I've gotten into some folk rock stuff lately, need stuff with a solid beat though, nice and percussive. Though one of my roommates last year was into this modern electro jazz stuff that's not terrible. Some may have creeped into my playlist. Do you like the punk grunge stuff or just the look?" He asks with a gesture to Stella's attire.

He perks up slightly as Sark reenters the room, eyes sliding over to take him in again now that Wulfra is serving as slightly less of a new sight. He takes in those words curiously, even if he doesn't understand them completely.

Stella's green gaze flickers from Vic -- from where she's seated on the floor surrounded on most sides by sleeping black-dragon and hazarding a pet now and then as though she expects some random touch is going to set of some complex Rube Goldberg machine of DISASTER (i.e. carefully and very lightly) -- to the returning Sark. Her attention is on the rather tall bygone in human form as he returns. She leans forward to tap Vic lightly twice on his knee. "Hold that thought."

Sark makes his returning announcements. "Is ... Steele NOT going with her?" It wouldn't surprise Stella if that were the case. Before Sark can answer, she infers what she thinks is likely the case. "Poor Steele. He deserves better, at least from what I've known of him. Maybe we should get him out to the island, or at least offer. You know, give him a place that's not full of memories and privacy or company and distraction or time with the horses or ... you know. I'm glad his parents are in town to take care of the children while he ... goes through whatever he needs to go through." Truth be told, she doesn't know Steele particularly well. But he made a good impression on a few occasions."

There are plenty of brownies still. Stella even offers Sark the actual bag from where she's seated. There's an inquisitive half-smile for Sark and then Stella's attention returns to Vic. "Sarkesian, I think you missed Vic --" Stella lifts a hand with fingers together touching her temple and then poofs them apart as she says, "-- blowing my mind. But I'll leave it to him to show or tell you as he chooses to do. I did make an invitation to come out, but I was only vague about the stipulations. Vic is studying law. And he's young, too (she is speaking in a much different measurement scale that applies to bygones), just also completely different.

She goes back to conversation mode and nods to Vic that she's ready to not be rude. Stella follows Vic's gaze down to the sleeping Wulfra and whisper-murmurs up to him, "I know, right? Wait until you see Sarkesian. And then there's ... oh, a long list of compatriots to meet. And just like any social groups, some of us get along better than others." Stella risks another extremely tentative pet to sleeping Wulfra.

The music portion of the quiz. Stella's laughter is quiet yet appealing. "Mmhmm. A very important part, in my opinion." Folk Rock, he says. A solid beat. "So you DON'T mean acoustic singer-songwriter stuff, then." She silently mouths the next genre --modern-- --electro-- --jazz--. She's a little stunned by the effort of trying to imagine that sound so her response about grunge is delayed.

Eventually, the brunette glances down at her cropped black top, her red, plaid, rather slim pants, and her thick-soled black shoes. Her chestnut hair isn't dyed, but it is up in those two bundles atop her head to fit the look. "Oh this? I don't usually look like this. Sark just suggested I dress this way to come here which totally skewed my expectations about what I was going to see. I feel like at least the red is somewhat on theme." Wry, conspiratorial smile from Stella. "I don't hate grunge, but it's not really my go-to. I'm into singer-songwriter stuff, I love the blues, there's some classical that just hits the right buttons, and then I"m all over the map for the past five decades or so. Even some sugar pop so sweet you feel the cavities forming. I also am totally into this group called Pomplamoose? Their mashups are fantastic for the most part. And their in-studio style is so engaging. Here..." Vic hasn't offered her his phone yet, so she pulls hers out of her bag and pulls up an example, handing her phone to Vic so he can see as well as hear.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHtV3N8Otcs&list=PLiJey_76CkNRu-K9eAfpYQgD9HuC25_v8&index=4

Stella gently sitting-dances but not very enthusiastically in order to not bump Wulfra. "I mean," she says after the song is over -- she keeps her tone down -- and she has her phone back and tucks it away, "There's some level of bullshittery that's required when living in this broken world and being a mythical. At least that's my take. But I will say that you come off as sincere and I find your brand of sincerity charming, for what it's worth."

Now Stella takes Vic's phone with very careful hands as if it were a treasure. She enters first Sark's contact info into it and then her own. She even presumes to text both numbers from Vic's phone so the circuit is complete. "Feel free to apply whatever song about phones or calling you like."

Wulfra twitches slightly at the initial pets, but perhaps thanks to their tentativeness nothing big occurs. Her long mane idly flickers around as she ocassionally lets out snorfs of smoke or car-engine rumbles, but otherwise she seems to be asleep. Not alerting to Sark's arrival only furthers this conclusion. As time goes on, though, her limbs start to shift slightly, eyes between her face plates moving a tiny bit. No rube goldberg reaction of disaster comes to pass... but when Stella starts moving around more, dancing in place, another kind is triggered. The hind leg Stella is in front of wraps around her, the wing above her clasping like a giant hand as the donut tightens around her and 'shields' lower. A low growl escapes the throat that shakes up the floor's dust and the tail bushel seems to flicker over Stella's neck and face even more as if feeling it out. `rrRRRrrrrrrrhhhherrrhhhrrghhRrhhhrrhhhhhhhhrrrrrr....`

Sark shuffles to a stop there, close enough to reach for the bag without trying to step over or around Wulfra to get to it. Instead, when the big smoke puppydragon moves and makes noise, he reaches out with his free hand to find a spot under her chin and near her throat to lightly scritch and rub on.

He shakes his head negatively at Stella, "I dont know. Steele just said 'she is gone and not returning', but I cannot see that she would have left and NOT taken the children with her, considering how much she doted on them." Perhaps to offer an explanation, he smiles faintly at Vic, "Steele is a good person which I would be happy to introduce you to should you feel comfortable with that. I have helped him get a cockatrice out of this realm before. As for the fae, well, if they choose to reveal themselves to you is entirely up to them, but they can be....well, very fae and mercurial." The commentary between Stella and Vic has him adding about her attire, "Stella always comes up with impressive outfits. I specifically warned her to not wear anything nice coming out here today because I thought everything down here would be grungy and covered in dust, ruining some of the nicer things she likes to wear, so that IS my fault, I agree."

With that said, provided Wulfra has not moved further, he slowly sits down by the smoke dragon's head, intent on continuing the rubbing if the growling does not get louder.

Vic takes Stella's phone in hand as he relinquishes his own. He flips the phone around to watch the video, and as soon as the beat hits he's bpping his foot in time with the song. It definitely has his interest, especially once he hums a bit. "I'll check out more of their stuff later." He promises once the video is over.

He holds out the phone, only to perhaps be stymied by Wulfra wrapping around Stella. It's hard for Vic not to chuckle a little at the sight, giggle really. Though he balls a fist infront of his mouth to keep from making too much of a laughing noise lest he wake the sleeper.

He nods his head at Sark's explanation of the individuals in question. "Well, Stella kindly extended an invitation to your island, so I'm sure if these are people who hang out there and I might come across, an introduction wouldn't be out of the question." He replies with an easy smile, gathering his wits a little bit more about him so he doesn't break into a fit of laughter at Stella's prediciment.

For her part, Stella ends up muffled -- but at least one of the dragons present will know that despite any protestations, of which there are currently none, she is in some kind of Stella-heaven. She does gently move around to the groove of Pomplamoose, clearly familiar with this mashup. It might be a cute little non-dancing dance except she stills as a hind leg wraps around her. "Uh oh," she murmurs so very softly. A wing follows and (hopefully I read this right) covers most of the rest of her as if a strange sort of magic trick were about to occur. There's a little peep of sound from Stella, but she's rather inclined to believe this is sleep-dragon-ry and that it would go poorly if she were to wake the smoke-black dragon. But when the fluff-tail (that Stella would NEVER describe like that in Wulfra's conscious presence) wisps around in front of and behind her head, Stella tries not to ... but she sneezes. And Stella sneezes always come in twos. Little hmphs that are faintly high-pitched.

And that's when she starts ... what is she doing? She's barely visible. Is she crying? That would be a twist. But those breaths are audible and they catch here and there until she can't hold back laughter that is as hushed as she can possibly make it, while burrowing down in her living dragon-fort and nuzzling whatever portion of black is closest at the time. She utters as close to a groaning, growling, purring sound to try to match Wulfra's as she can, the laughter stopping so she can do so.

It's a long, quiet grrrr-purr-yawnish-mumbling sound.

Muffled, she SOUNDS like she says, "Why Sarkesian, I didn't realize you appreciated my fashion enough to say something so complimentary." But she says it in the tone that one uses to keep someone else who is sleeping from waking up as they talk. Like lullaby words. OR SOMETHING.

"Sarkesian Ronald Goldstein," Stella says somehow both hushed and sternly at the same time, "You did --not-- say to avoid nice. You just said some sort of grunge. I thought there'd be a rave or something ... and I just hadn't met the right mythicals yet. But it's all good. I don't mind getting dusty-dirty. I do kind of loathe these shoes, though." She nuzzles gently again into another part of her current cocoon. "Vic is studying law. Did you hear that part? We have to find him a mentor. Not for the law. For the poof and fluff and stunning plumage part."

Presumably to Vic, though there are zero visual cues, "I like your hair even more now, Vic." She is only slightly clearer sounding than she would sound talking through an actual pillow.

Wulfra says in Reptilian, "Be stilll little one... the slimy things will get you... spicy grabby slimy things... they will not get youuu...."

The fluff-tail continues fo gently caress-feel over Stella's face in objection to any sense of personal space. Not like being surrounded by warm smoky dragon gives any figurative or literal wiggle room to fight such, but it is surprisingly gentle--the smoke dragon's strength lies not in physical power, like the element itself. The sneezes, somehow, do make the tail retreat a little... covering her clothed section rather than her face.

The subsequent attempt to replicate the Wulfra noise initially seems to cause no reaction... until there's an even louder than before reply. `rrrrRRRRrrghheeeerrrrhhhhhhrrrreppppprrrrrrrrrrrmmhehrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhrrrrrrmmmmmmmmm` The noise resonates with such vibration that it digs right into Stella's core, like hugging up against a purring ferari engine. What follows is that great head of Wulfra's moving ever so slowly go nuzzle under that wing riiight into Stella's midsection. `rrrrmmhhhreerrrhhhhhhhh` the vibratey noises continue.

But then, there is the Sark scritching. The head softly leans into it at first, letting Stella breathe a bit... and it seems like the half-awake thing is liking it... until that glowing maw reveals itself once more and grabs his entire arm in its firey embrace. Not a bite, but her insides are -dangerous-! `rrRRRhhhperrssoonrrghhherrrrrmmmiiineeeeehrhhttaassttyyy....`

Sark nods slowly at Vic, "We will add you to the ferry whitelist so if you want to stay human until you get there, you can just take the ferry. Otherwise, you'll know where the island is if you want to get there by any other means. My only rule is to be civil, and please dont eat or terrorize the ponies and livestock."

He chuckles at Stella's commentary and looks mock offended, "Now, now, I have always paid attention to your fashion. /I/ am the one that cannot dress myself to make an impression, which is why I keep having to ask you for help. Just the same, I think your choice of attire worked out JUSt fine for the evening."

He might be about to comment more, but thats right about when Wulfra adjusts and just sorta sucks his arm into her mouth. He stops and looks down at her with a slightly amused look on his face, scrunching his nose a little as he murmurs, "My dear, do you actually have a tongue made out of lava?" He doesnt seem to be TRYING to remove his arm for the moment - instead bringing his other hand up to rub along the side of her snout, rather blatantly petting the big creature as if he knows she likes getting rubbed on.

More compliments to Vic's hair gets him preening again, his grin breaking wide as he sits up a little straighter. After a moment he realizes what he's doing and looks a tad embarassed for a moment. His eyes flick away as he gathers himself back up. "I have grown fond of it, at least." He murmurs as he turns his attention back to the trio, or at least the two he can see clearly.

At Sark's request he drags his finger across his chest in an X then holds up his hand. "Promise. Though it might be nice to fly out there some time. I have to stick to mostly deserted places as it is when I get the itch. You get it." It's not a question, he just assumes the dragon completely understands not wanting to stand out too much.

His expression turns to worry for a moment as an arm ends up in Wulfra's mouth, but when Sark doesn't seem overly bothered he relaxes and sits back. "The way she blasted through some of the hottest wings I've ever tried in my life, I wouldn't be surprised if its lava."

Stella repeats some of what Wulfra said in lizard tongue, except she doesn't have the right mouth and throat to get half of it even close. So she transfers to English, under all the black there somewhere. "Wait. I'm confused. The slimy things will get me but the spicy grabby slimy ones won't? I think I'm missing a whole lesson on different kinds of slimy things." She does move around a little less since she was told to be still.

An lo! A Stella-head with her hair faintly mussed where it isn't bundled up in those two spots on her head emerges and she huffs a breath, blowing a few stray strands of hair out of her face. To Sark she simply offers a significant Look. To Vic, she whispers, "This will either conclude VERY badly or possibly ...not. I'm deeply hoping for 'not' badly."

The resonating vibration of that sound from Wulfra widens Stella's eyes which she then blinks slowly a few times. "That -- oh my...." But then there's a head nuzzling her bare midriff and there's really only one thing to do. One must pet said dragon head. Stella is familiar with such rules. Or she'd like to think she is. Her smile quirks as the vibration and that low rumbly sound begins to crawl through her. "I've never been rumbled before," she admits with that same delighted smile.

Sark distracts her in several ways. First, he contradicts what she said. "I told him that the agreement is essentially what one learns on the island stays on the island, and no one outside gets bedtime stories." That's not exactly how she said it. But she's being rumbled! Give the Stella a break. Second, he further compliments her which results in a flash of those dimples of hers. It's fleeting, but it happened nonetheless. "Thank you," she replies. Third, he scritches mostly-sleeping Wulfra and ends up with his arm disappearing into her maw. "That's a shame," she says mildly. "I had a particular fondness for that arm." Is she not worried? Does she not care? Some assistant she is! "Maybe you have spicy slimy creepy crawlies on your arm." How Stella manages to say that with a serious expression is impressive. She looks over to Vic with a slightly apologetic expression, "I'm afraid you're getting the dragon-only version of the mythical honeycomb hideout tonight. There are others as you can attest. Do you have any questions that we can possibly answer?"

Wulfra, upon getting the pets from her 'trapped' prisoner when nuzzling into her, only rumbles more against that belly. The smoke rising from the multitude of nostrils is quite clear at the moment, licking up under Stella's chin as it rises and dissipates. Where the edge of that maw lies, though, Stella can feel the edges of a -burning- that quickly becomes too much.

Buuuuut, she is saved by the intervention of the Sark! She's already dragging her maw further up his arm, bringing the limb down her throat, when he starts petting her -again-. This brings out more than just the lazy attempt at eating him whole... it brings a GROWL and harsh dragon-tongue words.

Many eyes shoot open at once. Smoke billows. The maw snakes back and rises high on that neck to stare down as Stella can feel the scales hugging her rapidly grow in heat. `RRRRAAAARRRGHHHRRHHHHGHHHHH! SSSTAY AWAY FROM MY HATCH-` but, quickly, those eyes dart around the room... and she halts. The grip and heat lessens, and the head comes down with a big huff. Actual English follows. `I... yes. I am... here. Hi. Apologies.`

When Sark does succeed in getting his arm out of Wulframouth, it is quite literally smoking and sharp eyes might catch how his skin is CLEARLY burned in patches but rapidly healing, like color bleeding back across his skin and restoring his arm to 'normal' appearance within a few seconds. Looking up at her with concern, he starts, "Wulfra....?" but then she seems to have gotten her senses back. When she lowers her head, Sark reaches out to return to the under-chin rubbing and scritchings on, and murmurs, "You talk in your sleep, you know."

He doesnt press the point, instead giving Stella a look and a light shake of his head, before offering to Vic, "I would not expect you to be a troublemaker. I only mention the horses and livestock because how most of us would consider them ready food, and I have spent some time now getting them...used to my presence rather than afraid of it."

"I'm suddenly very glad we didn't test that whole eating thing when I first got here." Vic says with a dubious look to Sark's arm. The char has him wincing and rubbing his own arms in a moment of discomfort. He keeps his eyes focused on his lap for a while until it's safe to look once more.

"Honestly, I wouldn't know what to ask, but I know who to ask now should I come up with anything." Vic answers Stella honestly, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a grin that's still marked with a touch of quesiness that's quickly fading. "Honestly?" He says with a glance to Sark. "I don't think I'm much of a threat to anything larger than a chicken, and if you have those I promise to leave them alone. I'm still more used to getting my food from the store, anyway."