4309/In the Weeds

In the Weeds
Date of Scene:	05 December 2020
Location:	Chelsea Piers
Synopsis:	Wanda runs into Loki and his weird, creepy pets.
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Wanda Maximoff

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Loki has posed:
"You have... until I get bored," comments the dry voice of a grumpy adult male, who yawns and moves to rest upon a bench nearby. The large front lawn of the Sunset Terrace stretches in front of them and sweeps to the sides. 'Them' being two: both the 'creature', as well as the man in sleek but casual modern attire, the top of his hair neatly braided back in an array of tight, even interwoven strands to keep it back from his face, the rest of it loose and black around his neck.

The creature appears to be a little brown and black dog: a pug. It grunts and huffs and walks around in the neatly trimmed grass, circling, as if entirely needing to find an exact correct place to do some business, or maybe dig a hole.

Yet, to those that can sense beyond simple illusion -- that is by no means a /dog/. It is entirely some other thing, that reeks of a thick, glossy demonic presence, spewing a magical quality into the air. The portals that brought the pair here not long before also have a hint of magic, though a more understated type, less on the radar....

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Ice skating. Someone had mentioned ice skating, and curiosity was striken. Even while alone, Wanda isn't too lonely, laughing at the pratfalls of those who would try to get her attention. Brief conversations ending with laughter is the underscoring of the evening, and when an offer to 'walk her home', or at least to a subway station, the redhead gladly accepted.

With an easy pace and a light step, her arms are wound around her, green eyes paying attention to both that which is before her, and the handsome young man beside her. Conversation comes in spurts, and from a distance, the pull of magic takes her attention more and more, distracting her to the point where she has to apologize with whispered words.

Once the innocent is assured of relative safety, Wanda pauses, turns her head to look over her shoulder and stare at the spot where the magic seems to be the heaviest.. and that residual. She, too, exudes a magical feel, chaotic in nature. The more she stares, then, the more the dog simply isn't.. and it becomes, to her, a horrible snuffling demon creature. A look of disgust appears on her face, and she begins her approach, her softly accented words rising,

"You should not have that //dog// here."

Loki has posed:
"I don't own a dog," answers the man at the bench, relaxing one arm on the back of it, head propped against his hand and wrist. He gives Wanda a dubious, baffled look, as if /she/ were the crazy one.

Indeed, it's not a pug, if a closer look is given. It's clearly a raccoon; hard to have mistaken the black mask and little black paws for those of a dog, isn't it?

But then, maybe that's just that it turned into a racoon in the past few seconds. The ebb of magic is present, still, a very relaxed and easy-to-overlook illusion gently draped over the creature like a gossamer tissue. Barely there.

Though the reek of demonic presence? That's still the same, regardless of that sugar-coating!

"As we don't have any trash cans for it to knock over, I think we're safe."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"That //thing//," Wanda allows, with no less disgust. "It should not be here. Not here, not now." Shaking her head, she takes a step closer, though she's eyeing the residual magic of what must have been the portal. That.. it's different, somehow, and confusion flickers before she straightens and steps forward again.

"There is no 'safe'. Send it away."

Loki has posed:
Loki gives her a more direct look, moving to drop his hand away, to rest it on the back of the bench. As she orders him to send away the creature, he seems to grow amused, though, not particularly upset by the declaration.

"No, best /someone/ keep an eye on it, or it will go be naughty," tut-tuts Loki some, lowering his voice, as if to share that crucial information with her. He pans his eyes to the creature, which has finally rolled over to rub it's back onto the grass. It's also looking at them, with some weird heavy breathing. It's not an animal, not really: there's some kind of magical, pulsating mass to it that suggests it may or may not even have limbs under the illusion. It's more like an amalgam of blackish goo. Not usually anyone's first pick of creatures.

When a gaze pierces the illusion, it will reveal what the creature is really doing: eating bugs and ants at the moment, it seems, in the grass.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda takes a deep breath, and pauses in her step, wrapping her arms about her once again as attempted proof against the cold; not only the weather but moreso the feeling the black, 'not right' creature gives her. "If you do not, I can," is murmured, green eyes pulling off the snuffling thing and onto the casually posed man.

Wanda is keeping a small distance but a distance all the same from the little shadow thing seemingly ignoring all that goes on around it. Her attention now is on the man before her, and her head cants, eyes narrowing as if she's trying to read something in the air, to pull knowledge and information from somewhere, and failing. Finally, apparently without gaining whatever it was she was hoping for, she settles instead for,

"Who are you?"

Loki has posed:
"Definitely not a dog person," Loki answers, with a chuckle, which then grows into a laugh. He's not outright offended, but his manner is not the most open or welcoming, either. Then again, she approached and demanded things!

"If you feel like introducing yourself before asking me such things, I'll consider answering you politely." With that, though, the snuffling blob-thing begins to convulse and squeak in wet sounds ... and seems to barf up some of the insects it had eaten, after wandering more towards the pavement by Loki's foot. "Ugh," Loki says to it in disgust, applying a toe gingerly to shove it away. It flops over some, looking ill. Then, it suddenly seems to warp a little bit ... and with a splatting sound, separates in half, into two smaller 'racoons'. Loki stares at this, but mostly looks bemused, not a bit surprised.

"Finally," he observes.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"I like dogs," is countered with some certainty, her hands still hugging herself. It's cold.. in a 'hell' sort of cold to her. "Hell dogs?" Wanda shakes her head, "No."

There's a brief consideration, and she glances between the hounds and Loki.. back and forth. "There is much activity for them," and one hand waves in the animals' direction. "Too many in darkness." Green eyes level back to Loki, "Are you responsible?"

Loki has posed:
"For putting them in darkness? That's rather judgemental to ask," Loki answers evenly, stretching a little bit, and looking more keenly at Wanda as opposed to the 'dogs'. "They are what they /are/, with no modifications from me."

Loki grins, then. "I find if it /doesn't/ split now and then, it gets unstable and, I suppose you'd say 'evil'. Splitting seems to fix that. Otherwise, less of a pet, really...."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda stares for a long heartbeat before she mutters under her breath a shortish string of vocalized frustrations. "No," she tries again. "There has been much activity of darkness. Each time I go out, I feel." Feel the chaos.

For Loki's grin, Wanda frowns and sidesteps where one of the hounds gets to smelling something nearby. She actually understands what Loki is saying; there's a balance, and in the instability, things... yes.

"Who are you?" Now, Wanda tries a slightly different tack; as much as she is hesitant to do so, she wants to know the true magical aura of this man, as far as she can, anyway. Taking a deep breath, she tries again, "Who are you?" There's a pause before, "Please."

Loki has posed:
One of the two 'raccoon' creatures - not a dog, not a raccoon, but 'other' in reality - starts to wander off, just veering off on it's own. "So polite, now. Perhaps that does deserve an answer - though I'd already said I'd consider telling you if you introduced yourself," Loki says. "Just one moment, though," he adds.

With a stretch and quick movement, he follows the creature, pulling a slender blade from what may seem like his sleeve, or something else, and stabs it downwards suddenly, hard, through the creature's neck, pinning it to the cement. It shudders but immediately goes down, as he draws the blade back. Blade melting away from visibility, Loki turns away and starts back, his body language relaxed, bored. "I'm a hero, obviously." Cheeky.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Introduce herself? Wanda opens her mouth to do just so, the words lost in the pulling of the dagger and the stabbing of the foul creature through the neck. There is no recoil from the witch, but the energy that is given out by the 'death' and disappearance of the creature makes Wanda wrap her arms around herself just a little tighter, as if to try and anchor and balance herself. It's like an earthquake, or the rumble of the ground when a large bomb strikes. It's distracting when there is nothing to pull the attention away.

"Wanda," she manages, clearing her throat as her eyes drift from the now dissipated creature back to Loki. His answer gains from her a rise of brow, and her head tilts as she studies him. Is that a ghost of a smile, and is it in belief or dis-?

"Obviously.." is echoed.

Loki has posed:
"Well met, Ms. Maximoff," Loki answers sweetly. "...Or rather, /Wanda/. First name basis is rather friendly of you." He draws his hands together, and picks a little bit of goop off of his wrist to flick is away; he got a little splatted.

"That's not a bad name for my pet, actually." Perking up, Loki pats his leg. "Wanda Wannnda," he calls at the squishy black mass. It 'looks at them, but does come over. "Ah! She answers to it," smirks Loki. He sweeps his hands backwards, starting to... disintegrate? Disappear? Teleport? But so does his pet.

"Ah, I'll keep my promise, though. Wouldn't want you to find me a /liar/. I am Loki. Of course."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda's brows rise once more at his knowledge of her surname. If that's the case, then...

It's the rest, however, that brings her expression down to a frown, and her back straightens in immediate surprise and annoyance. "Wha-". Black primordial evil ooze? Really? Called after..

Even as they both begin to shimmer out of reality, disintigrate, disappear, Wanda is pulling her hands down in order for that subtle red to begin to tinge. Just as they fade, very much like a Cheshire cat, Wanda is casting a ball of red magic in the spot where her namesake had just been.

Loki!?!