WHO: Trowa Barton, A crowd of NPCs and 14 poor unsuspecting saps all under a curse, and anyone who sees this going on or gets dragged in by accident. ADD YOUR TAGS.
WHERE: Alllllll over the City.
WHEN: Thursday, July 22 (Day 1)
WARNINGS: Large amounts of hideous as the weekend wears on.
SUMMARY: The poor kid pissed off Aphrodite and then told her
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The last time he'd had a chance to indulge himself and go looking for himself in the wilderness was before Shockwave had... well. That was a long time ago, and mostly forgiven.
It's almost second nature at this point in his stay in the City for him to enjoy the peace of life by assuming a shape that would be able to appreciate it with more than just his dull human senses--one of the best ways he has ever passed an hour of nothing much to do has been to lay in the sunbeams coming through the balcony's glass door with all paws facing the ceiling. And so he does, and continues to travel deeper into the trees in this way, thinking nothing of it.
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The trees are massive things, towering far above the forest floor. Trunks as wide as a three-lane highway in some cases. The ground cover thins out to low ferns as the canopy arches far overhead. The light that filtered down from above was almost glowing green from shining through the leaves above.
Here, the forest is quieter, more serene than a forest would naturally be. It's almost as if the primeval forest was holding it's breath in the presence of something. There's a new scent in the air here - richly redolent of green growth and flowers, something female and... a breath of something almost reptilian.
The forest floor seems to swallow the sound of footfalls, but there is a very deliberate breaking of a twig not far behind the great beast Trowa had become. When he turns, there is a woman standing there, barefoot among low ferns covering the forest floor.
She's about six and a half feet tall, wearing flowing green and gold robes. Rich green hair spills loose around her head, parting around long, delicately pointed ears and what seem to be small horns. Her eyes are closed, but somehow Trowa might get the sensation that she sees him clearly, regardless.
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Still, he keeps going. There's something about this place that just...
Trowa snarls at the sound of the person behind him, at first, spinning and lowering himself to the ground to prepare to spring if necessary. However, it isn't another creature come to be on the attack--it's a lady, and one rather unlike any one of them he's met before. She's shockingly tall, and very... well, she's very green, isn't she?
He can't make up his mind as to what he ought to do about her, and so repeatedly bares his teeth without making any actual sound, trying to figure out what she wants and whether or not scaring her off would be one of his brighter ideas.
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There's just... something about her that seems soothing and benign... and utterly unafraid of him. When she speaks, her voice is calm and soothing.
"Be at ease, and welcome, young one." And then she lifts her hand to lightly touch atop his muzzle, as if in benediction.
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It's humiliating at first, but the woman doesn't seem to be out to embarrass him, and so the internal disgust at behaving so slowly dissipates. Fortunately, he has a far easier time hiding his emotions while in the various beast forms, as most people do not find them nearly as expressive. Then again, how she's acting... perhaps she knows how to read them as well as he does. The thought is mildly discomfiting.
The lion-Trowa sits, his bright green eyes fixated on the hand on his nose, and decides to be patient. Hastiness made for mistakes. If she can do that, then she might be dangerous, and to act without being fully informed would be, well, stupid.
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"There now, there's no need for alarm." She lets her hand rest a touch longer on his muzzle than would be usual for her, but she pays the desire to keep contact no mind. She's just glad to have the chance to be near a wild creature once again. "No harm will come to you here, brave one." A light pat, and then she lowers her hand to allow him to scent her more closely.
Her scent this close is almost heady with rich green growth, exotic and familiar flowers, and sun-warmed grass. She smells of deep forests, jungles, rolling plains - all the wild places of nature. She smells decidedly feminine as well, and the reptilian undertone is a little stronger too, but unless Trowa has smelled dragon before, he's unlikely to be able to place it.
Of course, this is not how she smells in the physical world. Not anymore. Not when she's in her humanoid form. The scent of her power and nature is far less pronounced and mingled with more mundane humanoid scents as well. When she's a dragon, though...
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The hand she's offered doesn't seem to be hiding anything that he can see. There are no small needles between the fingers, no lumps in the fabric of her clothing that signify hidden wristlets, and if she's got something deadly on her flesh that transfers by touch or by air then he's already doomed. At this point, he might as well go along with what she wants, while he still has the choice.
The warm cinnamon-red nose presses against the skin of her hand, the creature's nostril's flaring as he breathes in her scent and takes a moment to categorize everything. More plants, more wilderness--so much is green, here; he wonders for a moment if still remembers what other colors are like before scenting her a second time--and then something strikes him that is Wrong. This is a thing that looks almost human, and yet, she doesn't have the smell of one.
Quatre has a kind of fierce and vibrant warmth to him that reads into his scent, something that is predator/prey, meaty and unguarded but dangerous all the same, as if the faint chemical trace that means he has cleaned himself with soaps and shampoos and is supposed to wash away all the natural signs of this feeling or that status has not actually managed to fully erase who the other boy can be when pressed. It always reminds him of the gentle beasts he'd seen on his Run in the early months of this year--the ones that would greatly prefer to graze and be in the company of others, but could batter and break a great cat like himself to pieces when threatened. And sand. He can always smell the sand.
Most humans he's encountered give off something close to this impression.
The woman, however... well, to be frank, she reminds him of Shockwave's iguana, Grimlock. Even that isn't right, but it's the only reference point he has; he's never been crazy enough to go up and try to smell a crocodile.
Trowa backs up, distrustful of what feels like some form of deceit, hackles rising, and growls.
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She laughs softly and warmly and inclines her head ever so slightly to him. "Ah, clever one, you need not fear me, truly." She would never seek to harm him. "It is true, this is not my real form. But that is not yours, either."
"I did not wish to frighten you on our first meeting."
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"First?" Trowa parrots, putting an edge on the word that implied he believed she thought too highly of herself. After all, he'd never agreed to any repeats of the incident.
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She inclines her head politely toward him. "I am Ysera."
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"Trowa Barton," he says, nodding his head once, watching her from behind the curtain of hair. "Why are you here?"
The boy didn't waste a lot of time on pleasantries.
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She smiles more fondly, reminiscing a little. "It is like a breath of home in this world of stone and iron sprawls."
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Well. This was obviously just his own mind having a bit of fun with him, so he might as well play along.
"Where was home?"
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She tips her head slightly to the side. "Has this City always been your world?"
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"For a year and a half. That's all."
Wouldn't she--well, he, really, if this was his own imagination--know that? Or was this one of those things he has to figure out himself, like... it's getting confusing, trying to sort these kinds of problems out. The mind has a difficult time trying to work in absolutes when the body is asleep.
"Emerald dream?"
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She was speaking of more to him than she had to anyone else she'd encountered in this world. She wasn't sure why. But she felt she could speak to him as she could not to other mortals.
And she was so very tired of hiding herself from the mortal masses.
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