2017.02.16:Seaside Experimentation
| Seaside Experimentation | |
|---|---|
| Unlikely friends destroy a facility that should not be. | |
| IC Date | 2/16/2017 |
| IC Time | Daytime |
| Players | Valentin (ST), Phillipe, Fenfang |
| Location | Outside the city |
| Prp/Tp | Seaside Experimentation |
| Spheres | Fera |
Log
The day is starting to wear on, but that is the time when the coast is most alive. Birds come to roost in little holes on the cliffside, rabbits dart about in the cover of falling shadows, crickets begin their music from hidden spots in the shrubbery. And overhead circle a large, black raven, staring down at the cliffs below with a tilted head.
Out in the brush, where the rabbits dart and the sun casts long shadows, a red fox trots toward the cliffs. Bushy tail swishing this way and that as the vixen walks, her head is held high even as she sniffs daintily at the air. Pad-pad pad-pad pad-pad weaving she goes with soft little paws through the brambles. But once she reaches the cliffside, she peeking over with ears swivelled up and forward. Her nose twitches, her whiskers follow suit. Seems she's looking for something that isn't rabbits.
This is the kind of terrain in which Haroun is actually, actively /comfortable/. Out here, feline build and instinct can navigate narrow ledges and precise leaps without hesitation - out here, he can be simply himself, with no human constraints placed upon his thoughts, attitudes and actions. It's... perhaps the most peaceful he's been since moving to Prospect and it shows in the borderline playful nature of his leaps and climbs and slides. He's getting close to where he needs to be, of that much he is certain, but when he clambers high enough along the ridgeline to poke his head up over the top, he did not expect to come nose to nose with fox face. Welp. That's a first.
OhboypredatorthatisSOMUCHbiggerthanher. The little fox yips and takes three quick steps backward. Her nose twitches, shaking her whiskers, and then she gives a delicate little vulpine sneeze. <<Excuse you.>> She trills, though it's entirely in Kitsune-go and therefore entirely for her own edification. But then she catches up to her situation and her head tilts slowly. And then she settles down right where she stands, sitting with a thwump. Well, that's not something you see every day. Since when did America have leopards?
It's a fair question - especially when the leopard in question looks... not like normal leopards. "Strawberry" is not at all the word Haroun would have chosen to describe his pelt, but the term is not inaccurate. The tiny sneeze earns a very feline laugh - that silent kind which sometimes looks to non-cats more like a threat than a display of joviality. The head disappears for a moment as leopard haunches condense down like pressed springs, only to reappear and sail up and over tinyfox to land with a spray of dusty earth and a shake of his hide. That's not quite enough to dislodge the irritating sand that's gotten against skin where the cliffside rubbed bits of his fur the wrong way, so there's a momentary pause for bathtime and then a return to sit next to the fox (or next to the place the fox had been at least, never know when small critters decide it's time to get out of dodge), looking out over the area in a very organized fashion. It's almost like he's expecting someone. Silly cat.
The tiny fox does, in fact, not move. Instead, she just shakes her fur as dusty earth flies into the air. It's the best she's got right now. So when the leopard sits down beside her, there is a look over to him that might be as close to raising a brow as a fox has ever been. Her tail swishes, and then taps him right on the hip. Might be a test.
Overheard, the raven spots what it had been looking for. It dives, suddenly, madly. Madly, enough, in fact that for a split second there is /serious/ reason to worry about this bird as it plummets toward the earth. It is not, however, delicate bird bones that hit the ground. No, instead, a man... Ehhh... His age is hard to place, with smiling dark eyes and a mess of blonde hair, rolls over the ground until he can come to sit cross legged before the fox and the leopard. "About time you showed up." He says, in a distinctly Irish accent.
Leopards are funny creatures, especially when they're leopards with kuasha who drill into their head that there is more to the world than anyone actually knows. So when the fox swishes her tail to tap him, Haroun flicks his tail to tap her right back - though his is probably more across most of her back and curling into fur before sliding back and away. It's a pleasant enough little game, but it's hard to focus on such little pleasures when there's a dive-bombing bi-ah god not a birb. A Corax. Great. It figures Tamar would befriend one of these chatterboxes. Heaving the heavy feline sigh of the much-put-upon, he curls his tail around his body to rest over his forepaws and gives the blonde man a steady, dry stare.
The Fox yips laughter at the return of her game. Oh good, either she'd found the world's most indulgent wild animal, or this was exactly what she expected. Then, though, this raven is plummeting toward the earth and she just manages to stand up when... Oh. Oh. Vulpine eyes widen as she retakes her seat. She looks between the Corax and the leopard, the leopard and the Corax, as though expecting something to become obvious. When nothing does, she instead sits back down and does her best impression of that feline stare Haroun is giving. It... Might be a little comical.
The Corax sighs right on back. "Don't look at me like that." He says, waving a hand at the both of them. "I'm just the messenger. Some whackjob's opened a... Well... I don't even know what to call it. See for yourselves. Anyway, it's a Wyrmy nightmare down there... Just around the bend, built into a seaside cave, hope you don't mind getting wet. Just... Uh... Well..." He looks between the two of them. "I'm sure each of you know who told you to be here. They think it's important, yeah? Maybe you oughta as well." And this time the accent trends southward into Wales.
Great, a Corax who can't hold onto one accent. Haroun can feel his teeth grinding together already and he doesn't even /have/ molars in this form. He does, however, play along enough to shift - though it's only the knowledge that Tamar is somehow involved that gets him that far. When it's the man standing there instead of the leopard - both hands shoved in his pants pockets and staring down at the seated Corax from his not insignificant Homid height - his voice is rough, but not /entirely/ unkind. "You'll have to forgive me. The last few of your kind I've had dealings with seemed more interested in the sound of their own voice than in being actually productive. What is the mission objective?" Yeah, he's a Daylight cat. Sometimes that involves a degree of tunnel vision - though thankfully not to the extent of the Ahroun.
The Fox watches the going on and then heaves a great, vulpine sigh. She stands, she stretches, and where once there was a fox, there is now a short woman of Chinese descent. Long black hair is pulled back into a neat bun, and she's dressed for the outdoors. And anyone who follows modern music... Probably knows who she is. But nevermind that right now. She sits back on her heels and stares at the Corax, tilting her head, but not speaking.
With an indrawn breath, Haroun becomes nothing more than an average human male.
Fenfang becomes, once more, a lovely woman.
"Ah, that is much more convenient." The Corax answers, this time distinctly English, "I'm Roy, it's a pleasure." But then he gives Phillipe a look that one might give someone else when they've been mistaken for an employee of the business they're trying to shop in. "That's a fine question. I found a thing, I told some people about a thing. Some people were interested in the thing and told me to wait here to tell other people about a thing. What it is you need to do with the thing is up to you."
All this talk about 'a thing' might well turn some folks upside down, inside out and sideways, but honestly it's close enough to Tamar's enigmatic speech patterns that Haroun finds it almost... comforting. Not that he's going to admit that to the birb, but still. It means he is at least comfortable. "Is the 'Wyrmy nightmare' the thing or is there something specific inside it we're looking for?"
Fenfang is content to sit there and let the bird and the cat do the talking. If she has something to say, certainly she'll say it, but this is a lot easier than that option. She does, however, crane her neck to look off to the side the Corax indicated, as though she might see something from her. Of course, she won't.
"Well," The Corax begins and this time he sounds French... It's like there's a logic to this, "The Wyrmy mess is the whole operation, and the whole operation is the thing, so yes. Yes, it is the thing. I don't have all the details. I just know it stinks, and that there are guards who don't want to let anyone in, not even a bird. And that there are a couple of banes floating around, though I haven't seen them in a couple of days."
Irish, Welsh, English, French. Either this Corax is going north to south or forward along a timeline. It's an intriguing pattern in either case, though Haroun can't help but find himself curious to see whether he doubles back to English (timeline), moves on to an Algerian one (south, but that might as well stay French after colonialism) or something else entirely. "I doubt the guards will have much say." He cracks his neck to the left and right, rolling his shoulders before glancing down at the fox-woman. "I regret that this is not the time to enjoy a proper introduction, madame, but if you are not a strong swimmer, I would suggest holding to my back. The sabre-cats may not always like to swim, but they can do so at remarkable speed." Haroun's own accent is its usual conglomeration of French, Lebanese and Haitian Creole. So, in other words, a fucking mess.
"Introduction are boring anyway." Fenfang says with a little laugh. Her voice is like music in and of itself, the sort of thing that isn't quite within the realms of normal. "Much more interesting to learn someone by seeing them doing something important." She nods a little bit, and then gives him a shining smile. "Would you you rather have a fox or a woman on your back, friend?"
Now, see, that's where this gets weird. When Roy opens his mouth again, he sounds like he's from Boston. What in the world... He smiles, and nods. "Ah, now that's the spirit." He says, and stands... "I hope you don't mind a spectator." And then he's up into the air as a deeply dark bird once more.
Well that's certainly a... jump. Alright then. Shaking his head at the oddities of Corax, Rou turns his attention to his companion with a small smile. "Whichever form allows you to comfortably hold your breath the longest would be ideal. Beyond that I have none." And since he has the feeling they're going to get a spectator whether they like one or not, he takes a few steps back from the vixen and releases his hold on this small, confining form. Chatro may not be his birth form, but it is unquestionably his favorite.
With an indrawn breath, Phillipe becomes a massive, rose-gold bagheera-chatro leopard.
Fog's Own Child becomes a red fox about the size of a wolf.
Fenfang nods and with the sound of stretching muscle and rearranging bone, she becomes a fox again. Though a much, much larger fox. Which, mind, just means about the size of a wolf. Nothing compared to a Chatro Bastet. She hops up onto his back, wrapping her front legs around his neck, and her tail swishing wildly back and forth. It's time for adventure, and this Fox, at least, is excited.
Fox-y excitement is, perhaps, contagious. Or maybe it's just been long enough since Haroun has felt this level of freedom - this lack of enclosure - that he's a little euphoric from it. In either case, he is remarkably still only long enough to feel that his passenger is stable. After that, it's a series of oddly-dainty leaps and feline-esque footwork to get them to sea-level. And if any of it gets real hairy, there's a Gift for that. Just... well, this way's more fun.
Down here at sea level... At low tide... Yes, there is a cave down here. It's wet and glistening, covered in algae. Waves rush into the mouth of the cave, but as of right now, swimming isn't necessary, just some wading. If it were high tide, however...
Secure on Haroun's back, Fog's Own Child is quite pleased with all this ruckus. There are things to learn and see and do. And she's gone and made a cat friend! Or... Something. Probably getting ahead of herself there. She does that sometimes. As the cave comes into view, she points with her nose and makes quiet yipping noises that... Probably mean something to her, anyway.
{{tab}Well that's significantly less trouble than expected. Getting back out, though... well, so long as they're not in here for hours everything should be fine, right? Perhaps paradoxically, the wading seems to be more of a problem for the great cat than the possibility of swimming had been. The yips may not be words, but he can follow the directionality easy enough. And rather than sucking it up and wading through, the silly direcat backs up a few steps, crouches and then darts forward to see if he can't make at least the bulk of this wading business disappear in a single leap.
Fog's Own Child holds on as her feline mount settles back to prepare for his leap. But she doesn't try dissuading him. No. Forward. Always forward. Forward unto dawn. She. Is. Ready. And then they're flying through the air and... Honestly, it is a little like flying.
The other side of the water is... Well, it's a cave alright. Buuuut... Most caves don't have red light glowing around the bend.
Success! This is a leap made easily, the great cat soaring through open air with the kind of euphoria he only ever really gets from movement - from action. Landing on the other side is a graceful affair, though any observers might be a little confused to see daintiness from such a large animal. He pauses long enough to allow fox friend to dismount if she likes, but even if she stays aboard, he's padding forward on quiet kitty-paws, though he pauses at the sight of that red light. First he lifts his head, pulling in air over his nose and under his hard palate for padaa. After that, he is still - listening, since even a cat's enhanced sight does him little good around corners.
Fog's Own Child does, in fact, climb down off of her new cat friend's back. And with the fluidity of someone returning to their breed form, she slips back into Homid. She's light on her feet even in this form, though, and stays near. That light has caught her attention, but she's not moving forward just yet. She does, after all, know what it means when cats open their mouths like that. Mind, that's mostly from observing her house cat, but still.
Fenfang becomes, once more, a lovely woman.
Haroun may currently be a cat the size of a horse, but there is still a keen and predatory intelligence behind his eyes. He processes the sensory information until everything fits into a rough picture inside his head. That's when he turns to the now-Homid werefox, examines her new form and lifts one paw to point at her, then lowers it to scratch two light lines in a bit of wet sand over the stone, then lifts it again to point in towards the cave, wrinkling his nose in a very persnickety cat fashion. That's when he lowers his body a little closer to the ground and slinks forward along the wall of the cave toward that red light - as low and quiet as he can. With luck, he can creep close enough to look around the corner before either of these smelly humans are any wiser.
With a nod at the scratched message, Fenfang follows closely behind her cat friend, crouched and looking around as they move forward. She is bright eyed and curious still, but it does seem the small fox knows how to be quiet when she needs to. Once they've made it to the corner, she very, very quietly whispers into Haroun's ear, trusting in the crash of the echoing waves to mask her words. "Humans, I can handle." She says with a smirk and a bit of cheek in her tone.
There are, in fact, two humans. Standing by... A heavy, metal door. That is out of place. Where the cave should continue on, there is just an industral door, locked and secured with a keycard entry. That's different.
Haroun pauses at that corner, catching sight of the humans and then considering the words breathed against his ear. There's a low rumbling, then - too low for human ears to hear but easy enough for her to feel if she's that close. He's not super happy about not just simply making them dead, but he will wait here and let her try her way first. There is a single nod and he crouches lower, but he is watching that door and those humans, ready to spring into action if things go south.
At that agreement, Fenfang smiles and steps forward. Yes, armed guards. No, she doesn't care. She just smiles, popping a hip and giving a little wave of her fingers. "Evening, gentlemen." She says, "How about one of you gives me your keycard, hm?" It's so sweet. So sickeningly, terribly sweet. Like some sort of over the top doll. Frankly, it'll probably make her gag later. For now, it's useful.
"Hey lady, look... No one's supposed to be down here." Begins one of the guards, already reaching for this weapon. The other, however, immediately reaches out to stop him. "Eh, we can't pull a gun on her. Don't you know who that is?" Begins the other... And that is... A disturbing amount of reverence in his voice. No one should be that emphatic about anyone they've never actually met in their lives. So he turns back to her, reaching into his pocket for his keycard, offering it out to her perhaps just in the hopes that it will mean touching her hand for a moment. Which is...
Precisely when his friend determines there is something fishy going on here. "Jeff, don't be stupid." He says, shaking his head, "I'll shoot you both if you don't get away from her." Not that he's reached for his weapon again. Yet.
Sickeningly sweet? Maybe. But there's something sharp and feral in the great cat that enjoys this more than any ethical person should. Cats are no stranger to the boons of sensuality, after all. The reverence of the first voice brings out silent feline laughter, but the threat from the second has him extending his claws and sharpening them slowly along the stone surface below.
"Now, now, no reason to be so upset." Fenfang says, shaking her head and reaching out to take the keycard. Her hand does, in fact, just briefly sweep over the guard's. It's her silent gratitude, and a smile just for him. But then her eyes fix on his fellow. "I'm just here to say hello, I swear." She says, stepping closer with an exaggerated swing of her hip that, were she in some other form, surely would have been a swish of a long, fluffy tail.
The trepidatious guard had just been about to reach for his weapon. But then... Well... He's staring at Fenfang's hips, let's all just be honest here. "Well... I suppose..." He says, and then he's got... A really problem on his hands. This moral dilemma is eating at him, and he steps away from the door, taking his co-worker by the arm and starting to drag him away. Much to his displeasure. But not-Jeff seems to be the stronger of the two and is willing to drag him off he needs to. Guess what? He needs to. In all of that struggle, though, luckily neither of them are in a position to notice a certain sneaky leopard around the corner as they pass.
The footsteps drawing closer have Haroun readying himself for what seems like inevitable security-guard death, but when they /walk right past him/ he's left just a little bit dumbfounded. Sure, it's not exactly the best lighting in here and sure, he's crouched about as low as he can go, but this isn't the savannah. There are no tall grasses here to hide in, nor is he the smaller leopard that could maybe hide in the shadow cast by the rocks on the corner... These guys are just a hot mess and at that point they're not even worthy prey. Sadness. Still, he's quite content to jog forward on big, quiet kitty paws once they're past, bumping his massive nose very gently against the fox's shoulder in silent approval before ambling on up toward this massive metal door of doom.
Fenfang shoots a smile over her shoulder to Haroun and lifts the keycard victoriously between two manicured fingers. "We're in." She says with a self satisfied tone. And then she's moving to the door as well. Giving a three count with mouthing and nods of her head, she inserts the card and pressed the handle, but lets the much more imposing figure of the huge cat lead the way.
As the door opens, bright white lights flicker into light with the pop hiss sound of industrial fluorescents. Ahead lies a hallway, sterile and white. White tile floor, white painted walls, steel vents for air. Three doors lead off the hall. One on either side, these not requiring a keycard, but numberpad codes. And a heavier door at the end that seems to require a thumbprint.
The sudden rush of bright lights send Haroun down and backward into a defensive feline crouch, eyes shut and fangs bared in a sharp hiss at the sudden, painful change. It takes him a minute to adjust and even then, the shake of his pelt is decidedly grumpier than he was a moment ago. He ambles in, stopping at the first door and just staring at it for a while. The fact that nothing happens is disturbing - evidenced by the low, unhappy cat noises coming from his throat, but there are two more doors. He'll head over to the second keypad one next.
Bright light is no friend of Fenfang's either, and she gives a low groan in the back of her throat at the sudden change. It's not nearly so bad as being a feline in this situation, but even still. She follows Haroun in, looking around. Approaching the door Haroun first stopped at, she stares at the number pad for a minute and then huffs. She's no good with tech. What she is good at, though, is science. So she inspects the keys of the numberpad to see if any of them show more wear than the others.
Stymied a second time by a Gift that's felt like breathing since he acquired it, Haroun is increasingly uncomfortable with this place. So before he tries anything on that final door - thumbprint scanners are something he only knows about because of a Bond movie playing on FX last weekend - he doubles back to see if the fox is having any better luck.
Staring at this numberpad isn't getting her anywhere. So she sniffs at it. Turning to the other door, she's just looking around at this point. Which is when she spots something on the back of the keycard in her hand. Lifting it she smiles wide. So when Haroun makes his way back over, she holding out the keycard for him to see. Four numbers. "I don't know which it goes to, though." She says, still whispering just in case.
That keycard is regarded for a moment like it may have personally insulted him. It's not the most enjoyable route to take - seriously, those guards need a bath - but Haroun does actually recognize that there are more important things at stake than his delicate hygiene sensibilities so he leans forward to huff a nose-full of the guard's scent from the card, then steps back and lifts his muzzle again to draw air over taste and scent receptors both. Guess the stink has uses after all, because there's a pretty strong trail leading to the right-hand door. So, ever practical, that's the one he heads for.
At that, Fenfang does a little hop of excitement. Then, though, she's following along to the right door. And once more, it's pause, wait. And then enters the first three numbers, does a three count, and enters the fourth. Again, giant cat friend is a much better choice for going first than she is, too. Provided the door opens, that is.
Oh, the door opens. Everyone involved might wish that it hadn't, however. Because inside this room are a half dozen cages of different sizes. One holds an underfed wolf, another a set of ravens who have started pulling out feathers from stress, another two foxes who still seem to be in good shape, one isn't a cage at all but rather a tank much too small for the young shark it holds, one sits empty, and one holds a black panther who, while she seems to be in decent enough health thus far, is quite obviously in heat.
Additionally, there are two more guards in this room, and they look both shocked and displeased as they reach for weapons.
TBC
