bad weeds grow tall — joining

[nikolai]

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    Sunshine glinted off the lenses of his mask; he squeezed his eye shut, the sudden brightness from above startling the boy. His mind could only process confusion, a harsh breath rasping from behind the mask's filter. Blinking, he adjusted to the new landscape, the expected gloom and endless horizon of purgatory replaced by sand dunes and simmering heat. His intact brow drew with the bloodied other. The others always warned him of the rare summoning, describing it to abruptly spawn in an unfamiliar room at the command of another. Yet he never quite experienced such a task himself, thoroughly bewildered. And sweating. Damn his thick clothes... he glanced to his body, finding a dense pelt instead. Confusion swelled as he brushed claws along a vested chest. Oh, what was it that Isaac said? Something scientific and monotone, probably.

    Chuffing to himself, he wobbled to his new legs, swishing a bushy tail. He wasn't sure what he was -- maybe a mix of a dog and a squirrel, with a little bit of bear thrown in. Paw still pressed to his chest, he found himself sitting back down in the burning sand again, amazed by his discovery. A heartbeat. He was alive again. A rough tongue swiped over teeth, pausing where a gap was expected to make sure he was still himself, too. Nikolai Pavlukhin was alive. Grinning madly to himself under the gas mask, the youth regained his footing, wincing at the heat. As though he were dancing on a stovetop, he lifted two out of four legs, balancing precariously on diagonal stilts and switching off every so often.

    A glimpse of black caught his eye. Swiveling his head to glance over his shoulder, his jaw set as he studied a ring of paint encompassing a star, the winds scattering the sand it was drawn on. So he had been summoned. But... by who? Licking his nose as he panted, his cold gaze scanned the barren desert around him for the culprit, intent to carry out whatever task he was needed for so he could escape the unbearable heat as soon as possible.

[aine.]

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I'll come back when you call me

Chasing beetles, the petite vixen skidded across hot sand.  Conscious of the jungle behind her.  The shade.  She only played in the desert on occasion, with her attention grabbed.  Her scarlet orange fur flashed brightly in the sun, soaking in the heat.  As her mouth grew dry, she found her fondness for chasing the little insect fading.  There might be butterflies in the jungle.  By her garden at least.

But an unfamiliar figure caught her eye.  Hazel hues, gleaming golden in the light, flickering in curiously.  No one should sit in the sand for long.  They’d get too hot.  Especially with a thick coat.  Chewing the inside of her cheek, the little fox bounded towards him, rocking on her paws as she came to a halt.  Offering a smile, albeit a shy one, Aine wondered if he was looking for someone specific.  His eyes seemed so intent.

"Salut," she murmured, "are you okay? It’s... it’s very hot out here to just be sitting in the sand.  Can I help you?  ....’m Aine."

She should carry herbs on her.  She knows.  She’s the unofficial medic.  But she’s young and there’s beetles to chase.  The boy didn’t look hurt.  Or terribly unwell.  Still.  The fae wonders if she should offer water... Well.  Maybe in a moment... After he answers her first question...

— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —

[michael t.]

An unpleasant ache ran through Michael's body when he had woken up that morning, suddenly reminded that he was no longer acquainted with any sort of familiarity. No longer was he with Trevor, moving from makeshift camp to makeshift camp while scheming and fucking over everyone who got in their way. Hell, no longer was he in The Lost's camp, suffering through cruel words and lashes and harshness in regularly scheduled intervals that drove him mad. No, now he was in The Pitt. The place was still unfamiliar to him, too new and foreign to really have any sort of lasting impact as of yet. He didn't even know if he was going to remain here permanently, but he was going to at least for the moment, until his wounds had healed. So, he supposed that he had better get used to his new home and the strange environment around him, a mixture of desert and jungle with a healthy dosage of strange architecture thrown in. It was nothing like the bobcat was used to, but he could only hope that it would be a good place to snatch some things. Maybe some more jewelry, if he was lucky, or a new pack of cigarettes. Either way, he had found himself emerging out of the protective trees of the jungle and out into the sand, steady but injured legs carrying him over the areas he had missed in his frantic stumble to get his wounds treated.

It wasn't long before he came across Aine and Nikolai, and he found himself staring at Niko for a long moment, baffled by the other's appearance. He was wearing some sort of mask – a gas mask, Michael recalled distantly – and a little vest. He looked so very unusual, but at least it was comforting to see someone else with a thick pelt roasting under the sun alongside him. He came padding up beside Aine, keeping a little bit of distance between he and the girl since he didn't truly know her, and found his eyes landing upon the painted sand being tossed up into the wind and brushed away quickly. He had no idea what the hell had happened here, but he felt an odd sense of unease settle in his chest, suddenly wanting to turn tail and get the fuck out. Still, he forced himself to let his eyes settle back onto Nikolai, looking the other over before he spoke, his voice a slight croak from disuse, "What's with the getup, kid?" Michael didn't have a real leg to stand on, considering he was wearing all his various bright and shiny jewelry on his ears and around his neck, but he wasn't really wearing clothes.

[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]

[nikolai]

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    A desert, as he could recall from his father's gravelly voice listing off words while he dozed in his lap, was an environment incapable of supporting a rich ecosystem. And yet one, two, three specks against the wavering sand approached, growing from ants to three strange creatures watching him expectantly. Blinking his single eye, he studied them intently, never having seen a little red bushy cat like the first before. Or a funny-earred black cat like the second, eyeing his tufted ears as though they were the antennae of an alien. And yet another bizarre cat -- a small smile worked its way to his snout at the absolute absurdity of this, grinning in the dark, humid space between mask and skin.

    Until two of three opened their mouths, producing a string of nonsensical syllables. His smile faded. A different language. Not Russian like the guards from the ГУЛАГ, but rather some code entirely new and foreign. A grimace replaced the childish smirk plastered to stained lips moments before, just as sticky as the sweat pinning his fur down to bony sides. A quiet voice drifted through the filter, raw and cracked. "Я не розумію, що ти кажеш." Useless speech unless one happened to be a fluent translator. Sitting back on his haunches, shaky paws clung to the muzzle of his gas mask, aching to lift the barrier from the world's eye to get some fresh air yet unwilling to share the horror that lay beneath.

[michael t.]

Another kid came trotting up to the impromptu little gathering of souls in the desert, and Michael found himself wondering, absently, if this place actually had any adults in it besides he and that Caustic guy who had helped him at the border. However, unlike Aine, who while shy was still speaking in a quiet and curious tone, Juno remained silent, with nothing but a faintly joyous smile gracing her face once she had joined the group. It made Michael feel awkward, his skin itching a little bit. Kids were supposed to be talkative, weren't they? Juno seemed excited, but she wasn't exactly blasting off with questions or offering any kind words to the mask wearing stranger, so perhaps he had his wires crossed about kids. Either way, Michael found himself only glancing at Juno for a moment before he forced his eyes back to Nikolai, watching as the boy looked all three of them over carefully. It sort of reminded Michael of how he often scanned others over for weaknesses in case they ever came to blows, but it didn't seem like Nikolai was planning on attacking them. Rather, he just seemed curious, and perhaps a little bit bemused by the ragtag group before him. At least, that's what Michael could get from the one eye he could see, which wasn't exactly much.

Unfortunately, this was when the language barrier reared its ugly head, ready to make what should've been a relatively simple process a million times harder in the end. Michael watched the way that Nikolai's eye narrowed minutely, a flash of something akin to frustration glittering there for a moment before the other spoke. When the horseman was done speaking, Michael found himself blinking dumbly, having picked up exactly nothing from the strange twisted words that exited Nikolai's muzzle. His previous curious question was quickly forgotten, mainly due to the fact that he couldn't even begin to understand what the fuck the other was saying. Michael had only ever known English, and he was pretty sure it was going to continue to be the only language he knew, which meant he was virtually useless in this exchange. Frowning, Michael glanced back and forth from Aine to Juno, speaking hesitantly, "I don't suppose either of you picked up on what the hell he just said?" He knew there was very little chance that either of the girls knew Ukrainian, yet alone any other languages – even though Aine actually did know some others – but what was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he knew an expert translator around here.

[glow=#75603C,1,000]" oh, it's a setup, no, no, we won't fall. "[/glow]