Somebody knows, somebody's seen. Somebody knows right where you've been.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark is in a tree.

Yes, you read that right. This would make a great deal of sense if he were a ferret and some sense if he were a tiger, but, at the present moment, he is a person. In a tree.

No, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he suspects he's going to have to. Apparently, he was taking a walk through the park, contemplating whimsy

Comments

[sarkraticmethod]

"She does tend to do that." And he'd be lying if he said that didn't worry him, but, well, April is more capable than he is and that would bother him if, uh, it were anyone other than April. As it stands, it just makes him feel a little bit incompetent in comparison, but... Lots of things do that.

There's a small silence that follows, which clearly indicates that the conversation is over and the two of them can part ways and waste no more words of idle conversation. The Rift, however, does not think that this conversation is over. The Rift is, in the immortal words of Bonnie Raitt, going to give them somethin' to talk about.

About ten feet away, a Rift opens up and suddenly There is a... THING where there was no thing before. It is roughly the size of an elephant and looks like some cunning geneticist decided to combine a sabretooth tiger and a moose. It's a bit disoriented at the moment, but it's recovering remarkably well for something that just got dropped into another world.

Sark looks at it and then looks at Ves. The look on his face is very clearly the most pathetic why me? expression known to man.

[the_vesmier]

...the look on the Vesmier's face, for once, is something other than pure neutrality.

Somehow, in the amount of wandering around the city he's done, he's managed to to run into giant monsters before now. The worst he's really encountered were a few CLF goons and a snowball fight, neither of which prepares him for sabretoothed mooselions.

"..." he says, quite eloquently, under the circumstances and he tries to think of what he's supposed to do here. The options seem to be falling between "Usually if there's danger I just run quite fast and hope to get something between me and it" and "-of course, wild animals, now; those are a very bad idea to run from," and the next time he sees the Doctor who gave him those particular pieces of advice, he's going to spare no effort in telling him that his approach to crises leaves a remarkable amount to be desired.

For the moment, however, there's a disoriented mooselion.

"..."

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark, thankfully, has dealt with Riftmonsters before, but, uh, that spiny thing he had to rescue that girl whose name he can't be buggered to remember was significantly smaller. And Sark doesn't exactly carry sniper rifles on him- he has his Kimber.

Sark's first thought is that there is safety in trees... Of course, that thing looks big enough to topple a tree, so that would be a waste of effort. Running would be a nice option, but probably not a very smart thing to do. Generally speaking, the best thing to do in this sort of situation is to stand perfectly still and hope it... Just walks away and ignores you.

Sark gets his gun out his back pocket, just in case. He doubts it's going to do much good, but it's a comfort thing.

The mooselion, for its part, is very confused. It was tending to its baby and then suddenly it wasn't where it was supposed to be... And now it's baby is gone. This makes mama very angry and she's looking for something to hurt.

Oh look, two tiny human-shaped things. Human-shaped things hunt her kind. They probably took her baby. Mama angry. MAMA CHARGE.

They tell you not to run from wild animals, but when horrifying, sabretoothed mooselions charge you, you either run or... Get mauled to death.

"I think running might be a good idea." The words are remarkably calm, to Sark's credit, but considering how fast he gets the hell out of Dodge, he is decidedly NOT CALM. And there's something in the back of his head, some weird predatory sense, threatening to take over. If this causes an involuntary shift, Sark's just glad that the tiger is being sociable and not the ferret.

[the_vesmier]

"Running" is not a concept the Vesmier's loaded into his quick-access list. The best he can do at short notice is sidestepping briskly, throwing a psychic wave of CALM RATIONALITY at the thing. Not his first choice, not in the least, but - what else is one to do when one is being attacked by gargantuan wild animals?

The problem with nonsentients is that one never knows how they'll react to psychic influence. Some are as susceptible as anyone might expect. Some run so totally on instinct, so totally devoid of the presence of thought and reason, that one might as well attempt psychic control of a simple machine.

[sarkraticmethod]

Unfortunately for Ves, the sabretooth mooselion falls into the latter category. Fortunately for Ves, there is now a tiger... This is a very low example of the word 'fortunately.'

Sark held off the shift about as long as he could, but eventually the tiger won and he felt like he suddenly tripped, only to be greeted by the ripping of clothes and the tumbling feeling of hitting the ground and rolling and then realizing that all of your senses are sharper and... Oh yeah, you're a tiger.

And now the predatory animal inside is coming back to the Vesmier and Sark's not entirely certain what said predatory animal thinks it's going to do, especially when it's the size of a German Shepherd and the mooselion is the size of a... Mooselion.

Thanks to Ves's sidestepping, he's now out of range and since the beast can't turn on a dime, it has to go after the nearest available target, which just so happens to be the tiger that wasn't there before. It's about then that Sark's inner beast realizes that staring down that thing is a BAD MOVE and starts fleeing towards the safety of the trees, darting away faster than the mooselion can veer, only to lead it smacking hard into a tree. The tree, unfortunately, cracks in half, but at least the stupid mooselion is going to be disoriented for a bit.

Sark rushes back to the Vesmier and nudges his head against the back of his legs, making an annoyed, rumbling noise. Getting away before that thing comes to its senses and runs back at them full force would probably be a good idea.

Let's just not question the fact that he's suddenly a tiger.

[the_vesmier]

The Vesmier startles a little at the tiger nudging his knees, but when a cursory mental brush reveals it to be Sark, that's... at least somewhat reassuring. he turns his attention back to the mooselion.

"I doubt very much we'll be able to outpace or outrange this creature," he says, stepping toward the treeline. "If I may presume a strategy, it seems as though you've slowed it down with that tree..."

His words are quick, but they're perfectly enunciated. The day the Vesmier loses his cool is... well. Not a day anyone really wants to see.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark plops down on the ground and nods. Of course, Ves can hear him, but the tiger is in the front seat and Sark's struggling to regain enough of his senses to actually think properly. Stupid animal instincts.

After a moment, he finally wrestles the tiger into submission and responds, his mental tone deeply concerned and equally as quick, What else are we meant to do exactly? If they can't outrun it and they can't fight it and they can't just... Trot off and hope it doesn't hunt them down like dogs... What else is there?

...It's then he realizes that he's talking to Ves and that strategy isn't Ves's strong suit. That's also around the time Sark realizes that they're kinda fucked.

[the_vesmier]

Well, "stand there and die" is on the list of options. Fortunately, it's pretty far down.

"The trees are thicker toward that section of the park," Ves says, nodding back without quite taking his eyes off the mooselion. "I doubt it would be able to pursue us without sustaining significant injury."

Unless the tree it just ran into was mooselion kryptonite, or something.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark nods again, slightly distracted by cleaning his ruff, which is more a nervous habit than a desire to die with clean fur. Something moves in the direction Sark left the aforementioned mooselion in and he jerks his head up and leaps to his feet in a predatory crouch, which he slowly eases out of when he remembers that didn't work so well the last time.

Then I suggest we show the meaning of haste. He trots off towards the trees, more for Ves's benefit than just feeling like trotting away from death is the way to go. Sark's not so unobservant that he doesn't quickly get that running and Ves aren't close personal friends.