maskormenacelogs

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AWOOOOO

WHO: Wolf and Magnus!
WHERE: Maurtia Falls
WHEN: sometime late at night?
WHAT: Local wolf-themed underground wrestler meets tiny, wolf-themed survivor who hates wolves. Things get rowdy!
WARNINGS: Possibly some swearing? idk!

When she isn't hunting for food, Wolf is used to scavenging for supplies wherever she can find them. In this world, 'scavenging' generally means 'dumpster diving', and tonight's dumpster is somewhere in Maurtia Falls, deep in an alleyway on the seedier side of town. Wolf isn't really paying attention to her surroundings outside the confines of the dumpster, but when she hears the back door of the adjacent building creak open, she peeks out of the dumpster to investigate...

... and recoils in absolute horror when the dark figure of a massive wolf mutant steps out into the alley, silhouetted in the light of the doorway. He's easily over six feet tall, practically six feet across too, and while she can't make out his features in the dark, he's covered in fur, and those are definitely wolf ears on his head.

The sounds of Maurtia Falls at night gradually fade into white noise, and Wolf's stomach drops. No no no no no, the only good thing about this stupid world is the fact that there are no Mutes in it, what's one of them doing here?! And why did it have to be a wolf?! Is it one of the Newton Wolves? She can't make out a turtleneck...

Slowly, she forces the initial rush of panic down, buries it underneath years of practiced fury and determination. It's just one wolf, no matter how stupidly big it is. She's faced much worse than this, and if this wolf has a pack here, then she'll send him back to their den with his tail between his legs.

Wolf leaps out of the dumpster with a furious cry, lands in a somersault, and aims a blow across the back of the giant wolf's legs with her staff as she comes up behind him. The bigger the mutant, the easier it is to take them out at the knees.

(She'll realize that these are human legs in a minute, but right now she's running on pure adrenaline!)

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Magnus is a big, strong man, stronger than most of the non-imPorts here and, as a result, tends not to get too beat up. This match was harder than most, though, which is why he completely forgets to take off his mask as he stumbles into the alley, adrenaline still singing in his blood, heart pounding in his chest. He feels alive. And it feels good, even as he steps out into the chilled night air and takes a deep breath, grinning toothily at nothing in particular.

It's not a good thing he's doing. Not a nice thing either. But everyone who's there signed up for it, and he's allowed his vices. That's what he tells himself as he takes a few more steps, jingling a few coins in his pocket and wondering what he's going to do with this particular windfall.

Which is when someone - or something - smacks the shit out of the backs of his legs and he topples to the ground with the sort of dramatics that only the very tall can. He flips around, brow furrowing underneath his mask, and winds one fist back to give whoever it is a good whalloping, when...

"...a kid?"

Wolf stays low to the ground, crouched down and ready to strike. She's been in lots of fights like this; the key is to make yourself a moving target, use your small size to your advantage, and keep enemies out of arm's reach with the staff until you can hit them properly. There's no reason this fight should be any different, even if this wolf's upheld fist looks to be the same size as her head, and...

... And... wait a minute.

He isn't attacking, and even in the dark, she can see that his hand doesn't have any claws, let alone fur. Something isn't right.

There are a few tense, silent seconds where Wolf tries to remember how to breathe, but once she gets a hold of herself, she straightens up slightly and points Stalky at the possibly-not-a-wolf's chest, narrowing her eyes in an accusatory glare.

"What are you... is that a mask?!"

"Yes, it's a mask," Magnus says, affronted, "and even if it wasn't a mask, all I was doing was walking!"

He flips over onto his ass and yanks the mask off, hurriedly stowing it in his pack. He forgot to take it off, too high on adrenaline buzzing through his veins, and now he's beginning to realize what a mistake that could have been if someone other than some snot-nosed kid discovered him.

"If you go around attacking people for no reason, kid, you're gonna get hurt one of these days. Not everyone's as understanding as I am." He swats away the weapon. "Especially if you go around pointing weapons at 'em."

The weapon swings right back towards Magnus and pokes him in the chest. He's not off the hook yet, and judging by the scowl on Wolf's face, he won't be for a while longer. She hates being patronized, and now that the initial panic has worn off, it's just turned into indignant fury. Look, that adrenaline rush had to go somewhere!

"I can handle it," she grits out, still breathing a bit raggedly. "Why are you dressed like that?"

The irony of interrogating someone about their wolf costume while wearing an actual wolf pelt has not occurred to her yet.

Magnus, evidently unskilled in dealing with traumatized kids, merely reaches out to grasp at the staff again as he rises to his feet and therefore to his full height. He does, at least, remove the mask, holding it in the palm of one mighty hand. "I don't think so, kid."

God, if he gets hurt because some kid decided to go for his kneecaps, he's gonna be really pissed.

"You don't hurt people because of the way they're dressed. I'll forgive you for the, uh... panic response? But you got no business threatening me now. I did nothing to you. Ain't like you're not dressed like a wolf too."

"I'm not dressed like one, I'm wearing one." Wolf growls. She steps back into a defensive stance, and if Magnus's grip on her weapon loosens, she'll be yanking Stalky back and holding the staff close to her chest.

Still... she did make a mistake here, and probably owes the guy an apology, even if it's a reluctant one.

"Look, I..." She drags a hand down her face, frustrated at the lecture, her misjudgment, everything. "Sorry. I thought you were a wolf mute, okay? They're human-sized mutant wolves, and if you knew what they were like, you wouldn't be dressed up like one."

Magnus' grip does loosen, and he eyes her as he wipes one hand off on his fur cape, as though it had cut him. It didn't, but it certainly could have. He hadn't been expecting an actual apology - or an explanation - truth be told. He'd gotten into one of those positions where he was too bull-headed to back down and perfectly happy to argue with the kid until she eventually stormed off in a huff, even if she is just a kid. Now, though...

He's not that much of a jackass. Especially when she's clearly traumatized. "You're gonna have to get used to nobody knowing anything about your world," he says bluntly. "Nobody knows anything about mine either. Not for a long time. But I wasn't gonna hurt you." He looks her over, assessing. "...they're a big problem where you're from?"

"No, you weren't, because if you'd been a wolf, I would have knocked you senseless before you could even try," she deadpans, eyeing him right back. She may be at a disadvantage here in an unfamiliar world, but Wolf has confidence in herself when it comes to getting out of bad situations, and fighting people who are bigger than she is (IE almost everybody).

"... Wolves aren't a problem if you know how to handle them. Take out an Alpha, and the rest of the pack will usually back off. You just have to know how pack dynamics work." Her glare narrows into a suspicious squint.

"Is dressing up like wolves normal where you're from? You replied to my video when I first got here, and you weren't wearing a mask then."

"Yeah, because I don't wear masks 24/7. Look, kid, it's a costume. Wolves are a pretty normal costume. I've got a bear mask too. It's just -- you dress like fierce animals for some things. That's the whole thing."

Magnus rubs his face with one hand, letting out a weary sigh, cheeks puffing out with it. "What makes them so much different than any other deadly animal? I've killed wolves before. Bears too. It, uh... it's not my favourite thing, but you do what you gotta do. They're not as bad as some shit you might run into where I'm from, though."

"If you dress up like a fierce animal, then you shouldn't be surprised if you get mistaken for one. And they're not just animals, they're mutes," she snaps. "You can't trust them, they hunt in packs so you're never dealing with just one, and they only think of other people as food! If you're really unlucky, you might be useful food!"

Wolf steps back at the end of her tirade and takes a deep breath, propping her staff up on her shoulder. Even she can admit that she might have gotten a little carried away there, and at this point she'll take any excuse to change the subject.

"So... what kind of 'bad shit' do you have, back home?"

She says this in a stilted way that indicates this may be the first time she's ever said the word 'shit'. Wolf, surprisingly, doesn't know many swear words.

Magnus sits back on the heels of his feet, looking at Wolf thoughtfully. Almost on cue, his stomach rumbles. He's had a long night of fighting and, as far as he's concerned, not enough to eat. He shoves one hand into his pocket, and places the other on his stomach.

"I'm not having this talk on an empty stomach. Tell you what, kid. Tag along while I grab a bite at the diner, and I'll buy you a shake. You tell me about those mutes, and I'll tell you about what my world's got going on."

He walks past Wolf, gesturing for her to come along.

"You ever have a shake before?"

Wolf watches him go by with wary curiousity. Her metaphorical hackles have gone down , and by this point, she looks more confused by Magnus than frustrated with him.

A few hesitant moments later, Wolf finally tags along. She's staying a step or two behind Magnus; close enough to follow on his heels and participate in the conversation, but keeping just enough distance between them that she can still take him out at the knees if the need arises.

"... What's a shake?"

"Kinda thought you'd say something like that."

Wolf is a kid, but she doesn't act like a kid. She seems like one of those kids with only limited exposure to the civilized world, to restaurants, to the little creature comforts in life. Magnus should know; he's met enough of them by now. And because he's met enough of them, he knows that other people will doubtlessly tell her about school and responsibility and people caring about her and what it means to be part of a society and blah, blah, blah.

Important? Sure. But who else is gonna teach her about a shake?

"You ever have ice cream? It's this, uh, frozen sweet dairy treat. A shake is where they blend it up with some milk and make it into a drink. If you like sweets, you'll like this. Trust me. If you don't, you can have a burger with me." Magnus shrugs. "Or both. I don't care what you get. I got the cash."

Wolf narrows her eyes, and squints up at Magnus with the wary suspicion of someone who has just been thoroughly (and accurately!) read. Quit being so emotionally intelligent and insightful! It's weird!

"I've heard of it," she shrugs. "Someone said it was made out of bean paste, and someone else said that it tasted like cookie do--"

She's interrupted mid-sentence by her stomach growling, loud enough to practically echo down the alleyway. Her eyes snap wide open, and she flushes with embarrassment at the noise before she manages to shut the expression down into a scowl. Yeah, a burger might be in order here!

"Bean paste?" Magnus' brow furrows. Bean paste... bean paste... well, vanilla's a bean, and it's been pulverized, so then maybe it counts as a bean paste, in a manner of speaking. "Eh... you'll see. Come on, kid."

They walk into the diner and slide into a booth. Magnus flags down the waitress, who greets him with the restrained sort of smile repeat customers get without the pressure to give them her widest smile, and she passes them two menus. Magnus slides one across the table to Wolf.

"Look at the pictures if you don't recognize the food," he says. The menu is well designed, pictures of the various classic diner dishes splashed helpfully across the menu, with the dessert menu on the very back page. "Order what you want. Hell, order two for all I care. You can always take it home. Leftovers are good. Builds character, old Mama Burnsides used to say."

Wolf looks incredibly uncomfortable and out of place in here. She can't help it, part of her keeps expecting places like this to be hollowed-out and empty, but instead they're alive and bustling with humans, too colourful and noisy to handle. It's like being in the middle of a ghost story, or maybe like being trapped in a documentary about The Before Times.

As always, Wolf deals with the unfamiliarity by going on the defensive. She slides into the booth with her shoulders hunched up around her ears, eyes darting around the diner, scoping out her surroundings and potential exits.

After a few silent minutes, Wolf lowers the menu and raises an eyebrow at Magnus.

"... I tried to kneecap you," she says, utterly deadpan. "Why are you buying me dinner?" There's less suspicion in her glare than before; mostly she's just looking at Magnus like he's a lunatic, or possibly like he has mushrooms growing out of his sideburns. Doesn't he have any self-preservation instincts?

"Tried being the operative word here," Magnus points out, wagging his fork at her. "If you actually kneecapped me, well, we'd be having a different discussion now, wouldn't we? As it was, I was hungry, and I wasn't about to wait on having my dinner just so you could do twenty questions with me." He turns to the waitress. "Hey, could we get a large fry here while we decide? Thanks!"

He winks. She rolls her eyes. It's not long before a plate teeming with french fries is set in the middle of the table. Magnus squirts an unwise amount of ketchep on the side of the plate and digs in heartily as he talks.

"And the way I see it, you did it 'cause you thought I was a threat. And anyone who's used to walking into threats when they're just, uh, strolling down the street probably isn't the sort of person who gets a lot of square meals. And I got the cash. So why not?"

Oh god, he's one of those. He's just a genuinely nice person who does nice things for other people because he sees no reason not to. Either he's naive and doesn't know how badly kind gestures like that can turn out, or he just doesn't care, because he's big enough to punch straight through anyone who tries to mess with him.

Wolf internally facepalms. It's probably easier to be thoughtlessly kind when you can back it up with arms the size of treetrunks. Maybe once Kipo gets the hang of having giant jaguar-paws, she'll worry about her less.

"Don't think we'd be talking much if I'd kneecapped you," she grumbles, snatching a handful of fries from the plate before she can think better of it. "You're weird." The minute she bites into them, her train of thoguht gets derailed and she goes completely starry-eyed, because holy what, french fries taste incredible.

"Sure we would! You'd have busted up my knees, not my mouth. Or the rest of me, which would be busy creaming you, pipsqueak," Magnus says, flicking an additional fry at her head, though he doubts she'll mind if she catches up. He recognizes that expression. That's how he feels... oh, every time he eats. Food is wonderful, and he's a hedonist! What can he say?

"I've gotten a lot worse than a little kneecapped, kiddo. Whaddaya think? Are fries good, or what? Try it with ketchup. The red shit. It's next level."

The french fry bounces off her forehead and Wolf manages to catch it on the rebound, dipping it into the ketchup with the air of someone who doesn't trust the condiment, but is willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. Judging by the way her eyes light up, it was totally worth it.

"I mean, you could try," she says, with a tiny smirk. "I've fought way worse things than you." He certainly does look like he's faced worse than a kneecapping though; even with the wolf costume (which looks much goofier under flourescent diner lighting rather than a dark alley), she can see that the guy's covered in some impressive scars.

"... Fries are pretty good, though. I'll give you that. Are burgers just as good?"

"Oh, they're better. Just you wait. You're gonna lose your mind," Magnus says with the confidence of a man who typically decides that everyone else will share his tastes in -- well, just about everything. Right on cue, someone comes and slams a couple of plates down on the table.

Magnus slides one towards himself, then pushes the other at Wolf. "There you go. Try it for yourself!" He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. "I know being here ain't exactly, uh, good for you. But there's some perks. Like food everywhere you look!"

"That's what's weird though," Wolf eyes the offered burger with a certain degree of wary suspicion. Don't take it personally, she does this with everything! "You don't have to hunt for it or fight anyone off, and you just pay people with money instead of information, or anything that would actually be valuable. It's... it's too easy. If all of this disappeared one day, nobody here would know how to survive." Hell, her world is living proof.

The burger gets a few more seconds of suspicious glaring before the smell becomes too much to resist. Wolf takes a careful bite... and immediately tears into the thing like she's trying to rip it apart and eat it as quickly as possible, before anyone else can take it from her. As reluctant as Wolf is to talk about her past, sometimes it's really obvious that she was raised by wolves.

"Don't underestimate people. You can live well 'cause you can, not 'cause you have to. If all this burned down tomorrow, I could make a fire, hunt some dear, cook it up, easy peasy. But why the hell would I do that when I can get someone else to do it for me most of the time?"

He gestures around them. "You get paid for providing services. It's, uh... it's barter system, just a big barter system." He watches as she devours that burger. Damn, this kid hasn't been fed well, has she?

"Besides," he says levelly, watching her carefully. "You'd know how to survive. Isn't that the important bit?"

"I'd know, sure." Wolf takes a particularly vicious bite of the burger, just for emphasis. "I'd be fine. I've had practice, but a lot of people haven't. Where I'm from, everything's already gone, and I figure this is what the world must've been like before things went bad. If something bad happens here, I don't want front row seats."

That was much more candid than she'd been planning to get during a conversation with a near-stranger (albeit one who treated her to dinner), and Wolf deals with that moment of vulnerability by burying it in french fries, snatching another handful from the plate and cramming them into her mouth.

"... And I know it's a barter system," she adds, through the fries. "This is just a dumb one."

"People here are more skilled than you think. They just don't, uh... wear it on their sleeve as much as people like you and me do."

Magnus looks every inch the mountain man that he is, and Wolf -- well, Wolf is practically feral. What she says about her world is sad, but hardly unexpected, considering the way she's been acting. She's a kid who's got damage, and she's come by that damage honestly. She probably should've had some well-meaning adult out there at least making sure she got fed on a regular basis, but it doesn't appear that she did. It sure as fuck doesn't seem as though something she'd expect now.

"What went wrong?"

"I'unno," Wolf shrugs. "Most humans live underground, and Mutes live on the surface. That's just how it is, now." Written history stopped being a priority after a certain point, and frankly, Wolf is ten. Whatever happened back then isn't relevant to her life right now.

"You sound like you really like it here," she says after a moment. "Do they have this stuff where you're from?" She holds up the half-eaten burger, and raises an eyebrow. "... And what kind of meat is this?"

"Eh... I wouldn't say I love it here. I belong home, not here. But just 'cause I don't love it here doesn't mean I'm gonna call their way of life stupid. Everyone's got their own way of doing things, right? Just like your world," he points out, pausing to mop up some of the juice running down his forearm. He misses home, but it hasn't been home for so long now that if he went back with all of his memories -- he doesn't know what he'd do.

Save the world, he supposes. But everything after that is a mystery. "This here's beef. Cow. They have 'em on farms so everyone's got access. And yeah, we got cows where I'm from. We just got lots of other animals too." He pauses. "What kinda meat do you eat where you're from?"

"Bugs, mostly." She smirks in a way that says she knows exactly how gross that probably sounds. "Really big crickets and spiders, the size of cars. The legs snap off pretty easily once you take 'em down. There are regular animals too, but bugs are easier to hunt because you don't have to stop and ask them if they can talk, first."

Wolf takes a huge swig of water. She isn't used to talking this much, this is probably the longest conversation she's had with a stranger in weeks!

"So I'm done talking about my world. What about yours? Everybody there dress up in animal costumes?"

"Eugh." Magnus' face makes it perfectly clear what he thinks of eating bugs. Disgusting. Just because he's seen giant bugs before doesn't mean he'd be willing to eat one. It ends the conversation pretty easily too, now that he knows a little more about her world. It's not that Magnus doesn't want to talk about himself - himself is one of his favourite topics, after all! - but talking about his world always gets him a little homesick, especially with nobody here to talk about his world with him.

"The animal costume's a here thing. I mean, people where I'm from might wear 'em sometimes, I ain't judging," Magnus says with an easygoing little shake of his head. "The place I'm from is different from here."

He looks around them. It's normal to him now. He'd gotten used to it so quickly, too, quicker than he'd thought possible. "None of the tech they've got here. No electricity, no phones, no cars. We do things old school. Except everything they do here, we can more or less mimic with magic, which my world's got a lot of." He drags one fry through the pool of ketchup on the side of his plate, evidently determined to absolutely drown the one fry. "It's not only humans either. I'm one, sure, but we've got dwarves, elves, orcs, gnomes... all sorts of people."

This place has always felt a little bland, a little colourless by comparison.

"It's weird."

The grin on Wolf's face makes it perfectly clear that she finds Magnus's disgust hilarious, and is enjoying the temporary schadenfreude while it lasts. It's not a big deal! Roast a couple of giant cricket-legs over a fire, and they taste like chicken that's crunchy on the outside!

"Yeah, that's for sure," she nods. "Dunno what any of the stuff you mentioned is, but everything here is weird." Sorry bud, fantasy tropes aren't a thing where she's from! "We have cars and some of the other stuff, but only a few people have generators for electricity. Usually they make the cars move by tying them to a bunch of bugs or giant birds."

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AWOOOOO

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