Making the Best of a Bad Situation [Pyotr)

[Maegan]

Jackpot! Maegan rifled through the pile of trash in the junkyard, removing bits of metal one by one. Something below had caught her eye and it was just what she needed. Having uncovered her prize from the junk, Maegan heaved it out and into the snow, dusting off the flakes that had just drifted onto it. Everlast. Maegan smiled deeply, this was turning out to be a wonderful day. The punching bag was not in good shape, but the tears in it were small and nearer to the top which made for easier repairs. She knew just where to find the sand she needed to refill the bag once she made some repairs.  She lifted the half filled bag over her shoulder, careful to keep the rest of the sand inside and moved the bag out of the junkyard towards the factory where she knew of a room perfectly suited to her needs. Stopping by some of the tool making stations, she grabbed the think threads and needles she needed to repair the bag along with some chains to hang it before continuing to the upper levels and into a stripped conference room with a fairly low exposed I Beam. She worked to make the repairs to the bag first before moving back downstairs for different bags that she could transfer sand in. It would be a long trek in the snow, but she knew it would be worth it and beneficial to more than just herself.  Maegan returned, having filled her bags with sand from the Fallen territory, her former ring, and took to filling the rest of the bag. It wasn't perfect, but nothing here was. Making do with what was available to her was one of Maegan's strengths. The whole process over, Maegan climbed atop the I Beam and strung up the bag with the chains. She leapt down with ease and admired her work. The bag hung off to the side of the large room, and Maegan could see the promise of this space, almost envisioning her own little boxing ring built in the center. She hoped that she'd be able to fill a much needed skill set with the Nakoma and help new anthros use their strengths and realize that despite the horrible thing that has been done to them, they are still useful, perhaps even more so, Maegan certainly was a better fighter for her tail. She was of better use to this tribe of Anthros than she ever had been as a lemur shifter with the Fallen. She hoped she could help others realize that about themselves as well. Stripping the winter coat and shoes, Maegan relished the cold under her feet as she stepped toward the start of her new venture. Back in her normal outfit of a sports bra and torn jeans, minus shoes, Maegan examined the wrappings on her hands--which she almost always wore now because they provided some warmth from the snow--Maegan took a fighting stance and gave a few punches to the bag, testing to see if she had succeeded. some sand flew from the rips she had sewn, but other than that the bag held up nicely. She sat on the floor, back against on of the remaining full walls of the room with a smile.  Things were turning around.

[Pyotr]

As he sat with his back against the cold bark of the tree, Pyotr couldn't stop himself from blankly staring at his hands. His own body felt foreign and strange to him, even now, even after many months had passed since he was stripped of his human skin and forced to become half of himself, half of his shift animal - the polar bear. The ordeal of the process to become an anthromorph (he had never even heard of the word until he heard one of the scientists reading aloud his file) had shaken him to his core. He had been changed, both mentally and physically. However, it was the physical alterations that were causing him the most trouble as of late.

His hands alone had changed significantly since becoming an anthro. What was once rather pale caucasian skin, there was now charcoal black skin, with white/translucent hairs thinly covering the back of his hands, growing much denser over his forearms and then thinning out again onto his biceps and chest. His fingernails and grown in length slightly, but the nails themselves were a dark brown/black colour; slightly curved and much stronger. The hands themselves had grown in size, slightly more so than the rest of is body, as his bones grew larger and denser.
He let out a quiet sigh. He knew that some day he would grow accustomed to is new body; that day just seemed quite far away. 

He looked up from his hands so that he could look around his surroundings again, which were a patch of trees growing next to the old factory building. He had hoped that by sitting still and out of the wind that he might catch a sight of some prey, which was particularly scarce at this time of year in the Dome (or so he was told). It made sense. It was cold, and frequent snowstorms added to the bitterness. Not that Pyotr minded; he grew up near the sea on a coastal peninsula of Russia; cold weather was the norm. Plus, he thought, I have some fur now. A man beast like me should not care about the cold.

Despite this, he still drew the hood of his wool-lined leather jacket closer around his ears. Just as he did so, movement demanded his attention.
It was another Nakoma; Maegan was her name if memory served him. A fellow Warrior, she was some kind of lemur anthro from her appearance, although Pete couldn't recall a time when he and she had spoken. Not that he was much of a chatter box any ways. Registering that she didn't pose a threat to him, he relaxed and watched her from the trees. She seemed to be carrying what looked like a punching bag that had seen many better days, and she hauled the torn thing inside the factory. 
Some time passed before she reappeared, carrying empty bags as she set off towards Fallen territory. What is she doing? he asked himself. It didn't take long for her to reappear once more; bags now full of sand and the penny dropping for Pyotr. She was going to repair that old punching bag.

As Maegan disappeared once again into the factory, Pyotr debated for a while whether or not to follow her or whether to continue his hunt for food supplies. If conditions were favourable for prey, Pyotr most likely would not have hauled himself up and made his way inside the factory entrance, tapping the snow off of his boots before ascending up to the upper level above the ground floor; the sound of a few punches guiding him. 
By the time he stepped a little cautiously through the entrance to the now bare conference room, ducking his head ever so slightly, he saw Maegan sitting opposite him against the wall, a smile on her face. 

"Making a gym are you?" he asked her in his rather deep voice, a slight to moderate Russian twang to his words.

[Maegan]

Her eyes caught the anthro as he moved into the doorway. She smiled brightly at his claim.  "Just need to build a boxing ring over here and we're all set." Her words were still morphed in a strange accent. A weird mix of french and south african stemming from her first language being Malagasy and learning english by immersion at age 10. She took in the sight of the anthro before her. He seemed to have fur covering his skin as well, although perhaps a bit thicker and more noticeable than her own; which was hard to see with the naked eye, but very apparent at the touch.  Polar Bear was what she gathered from the stature and general color combination, along with the Russian hint in his voice. She had seen him before, but hadn't known his name as their paths had never directly crossed. Her's as it were, was plaster across her abdomen which made introductions easier for the other person. She stood slowly, more from habit than any timid nature, and moved closer to the anthro before stopping next to the punching bag and putting an arm around it.  "I know I've seen you before, but I do not know your name, I'm Maegan." She said, almost redundantly, looking down slightly at her exposed abdomen, "It's not much now, but it works, care to give it a go?" She motioned toward the bag as she took a step to the side, away from it.  "If you're interested in training, it's here for anyone. I'm here for anyone, and always up for a friendly match." She knocked her fists together lightly with a soft smile. She knew the man to be mostly quiet, so she didn't want to push too hard to start, she was interested in helping any who wanted it, and she had a feeling this one here was a good candidate for someone who needed some encouragement--she just didn't want to scare him off with too much talk, although she could feel the words bubbling up, ready to come out. Maegan realized that she hadn't had anyone to speak to in a long time, and had been silent for days--that was her problem. Too much will to help, and everyone too proud to admit that maybe they needed it.

[Pyotr]

She smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, no fakery or veiled intentions.
It had been some time since Pyotr had received one, and while he didn't return the gesture, his face was much more relaxed and at ease when compared to his usual sullen features.

A boxing ring? Now that was a comical thought for the bear anthro. The images of anthros of all shapes and sizes, tip-toeing around a boxing ring, throwing jabs while the others placed their bets amongst a commentator's shouting.

As she stood, slowly as she did so, and made her way towards him, Pyotr thought about where she might be from. Her accent was a strange one, and that was coming from a man who spoke both in Americanised English from his Father and harsh Russian from his Mother. There was a French pull in there, amongst something that he'd only heard on the news in the cafe near the shop sometimes; some kind of African-based pronunciation, and all of it projected in English, thankfully.

She stopped at the punching bag near the centre of the room and slung her arm around its middle, before asking him of his name and telling him hers. Her name was Maegan, although he had already been pretty certain of this fact. He made a point of learning as many of his new tribe's names as he could when he first joined and her name had been that small bit more memorable due to her being a fellow Warrior of the tribe. As she looked down slightly, towards her stomach, Pete's eyes followed, and he saw that her name was written into her skin with ink. He thought this was a little odd, although having one's name tattooed onto themselves was at the bottom of the odd tattoo list.
"Pyotr. Pyotr Dickson," he replied, before scrutinizingly looking at the punching bag Maegan was asking him to try.
He put one hand over the other forearm, squeezing lightly. The scientists in those labs had done something to tap into his DNA that gave a person their strong, meaning his strength surpassed what normal humans could accomplish if he tried enough, or tried at all. He could tear branches from the trees and haul huge loads, something that would have been impossible for him before entering the Dome. So despite the obvious repairs she had made to it, Pyotr was sceptical of whether or not it would hold.

He walked slowly towards Maegan and her punching bag, putting his large hand on its surface once he was standing next to it. He dropped his hand before looking at Maegan, who had just offered to help with his training or to spar with him. It was a nice gesture, and he appreciated her kindness, but he shook his light lightly. "Thank you for your offer, it is kind of you, but I do not want to break something you have just mended. I'm afraid I do not know what my body is now capable of, and I don't wish to damage anything."

He shifted his weight on his feet, and was about to think about leaving her to continue his hunting, but he couldn't mistake the enthusiasm in her voice. He also couldn't ignore the fact that talking to another person, having a normal conversation in this abnormal place made him subconsciously breathe out a tiny bit easier, rather than holding himself up so rigid and ready all the time. He also knew that he was by no means a great fighter, and that if this woman could help him get better, maybe he wouldn't have to rely on his size and brute force. Maybe he could actually intelligently use his strength, rather that throwing it around when fighting an opponent.
"Although, if you have the time, perhaps you could show me some techniques or something? Maybe try to speed me up, as I can be quite slow," he said, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

[Maegan]

Pyotr. She repeated in her head. She watched him approach the bag with some caution and then fell a little, internally, as he declined the offer; not wanting to break anything. She looked up to him with a slight shrug, understanding, but still a bit disappointed and trying to hide that from her expression. He certainly may have the strength to break the bag again, but she’d just keep repairing. It was part of life that things broke, it was up to the person to repair the pieces and move on. His words did sound like they may have given him enhanced strength, something Maegan had experience with, and she understood the caution that came from not knowing how to control it. She took a step away, to go around to the other side of the bag and give him an easy exit from the situation, but her ears perked up as she heard him speak again. She turned her body sharply toward him with bright eyes; he was one of the first people in a long time to actually let her help. A large smile, teeth and all was on her face as she just looked at the man for a moment, noticing perhaps a hint of a smile with him? She was not sure; all she knew was that he was going to let her help. She might actually have a sparring partner for once, even one so large. The other part of her happiness drew from the fact that he hadn’t questioned her size. She wasn’t the shortest around, but she was small and most did not believe she had the past that she did. They mocked that she wanted to teach them, someone seemingly better equipped for fighting than herself. “I always have time for technique.” She grinned and hugged the punching bag a little, finding it hard to maintain her normal calm in the situation—she was just too happy to be helping. She took a slight step away and a breath to compose herself before looking over Pyotr to assess his strengths. Or what she could perceive at the moment. He was large, that was certain standing a solid foot taller than herself, and probably right about sluggishness. She noticed his fingernails were shaped more like claws--that was a sure bonus in a fight, although he would need to take care balling a fist. "You mentioned you weren't sure what your body was capable of anymore? I assume you mean you are much stronger than before? I can certainly help you understand that, have you noticed anything else? We tend to show up in here with more than one enhanced ability. If you haven't noticed it yet, it'll turn up eventually." Maegan snapped her fingers and a spark, almost like a lighter appeared ever so briefly. She hadn't enjoyed the electricity, but she had learned how to use it. The ability had made itself known only under desperate circumstances in the war that killed the Bestia, via lightning strike when she was trying to save Zephyr. Since then, Maegan had kept her emotions better controlled than even before the war. "Don't worry about breaking the bag, it's not perfect and it's bound to break. However, if you wouldn't mind using it as a stand in and showing me how you fight? Just perhaps, gentler than you think you should. I'll keep behind it to steady as you fight, don't you worry about me." She took a solid stance, keeping her hands against the back of the bag. Had Maegan been trained off the streets, she may have learned the word proprioception to describe how she went about teaching. She was all about knowing how your body moved, especially since literally everyone in this place was different. She had a tail, Pyotr had claws and fur, you had to relearn your own body to find your strengths, and she wanted to see what he had found in the past few months about himself that he was currently using to his advantage.

[Pyotr]

This girl really is on a mission... he thought with a touch of amusement. By agreeing to stick around for her teachings, Maegan's smile from earlier had expanded into a grin, which actually felt good to see.

Her behaviour - lightly hugging the punching bag in obvious happiness - almost reminded him of his little Sister, Uliana. She would be 20 now, coming 21, and she often acted in a similar way when she managed to rope her brother into doing something that she wanted to do. She dragged him to shops, to movies and when she was much younger, she somehow managed to get Pyotr to play what he thought were silly games, such as 'Nurse and her patient' or a game with dolls and stuffed animals. However, he did have a favourite of his sister's silly games - the Princess and the Knight.
His sister would put on a dress, normally the pink one with too many frills around the skirt, and put a crown she had made out of cardboard and glitter around her head, while Pyotr would go outside and get a long stick and mock a big knightly voice; swinging his stick like a sword. She would sit at the top of the stairs, calling for a brave and handsome knight to save her from the foul beast that lived in the kitchen - this just so happened to be their mother, who joined in sometimes, resulting in copious amounts of laughter. Pyotr would have to ascend the stairs - her tower - in order to rescue his sweet Princess Uliana from the monster.

His flashback-like thoughts were dissipated when Maegan asked him whether or not he had noticed anything other than his enhanced strength, right before she clicked her fingers and conjured a spark. She can conjure electricity right out of her own hands! It took Pyotr a moment or two to snap himself out of his curiosity before he replied. "Uh.. yes, much, much stronger than before, but strength is the only abnormality I have noticed so far. Although I haven't set about testing it or seeing if I have any other enhancements."

With her reassurance and encouragement about her punching bag, Pyotr nodded, deciding to go along with her request of showing her how he fought. Not that he fought often. The only times he had to fight were when outsiders, who were mainly rogues, decided to enter Nakoma territory, and even then, he didn't really fight with them per say; he simply took their hits until he could get a hold of them and then he threw a few hard digs before they ran off. 

As she took a stance behind the bag to steady it for him, Pyotr stood with his legs at shoulder width apart and his knees ever so slightly bent, but his first hurdle was quick to rear it's head. When he curled his fingers into a fist, his nails, now more like short claws, dug painfully into his skin, and when he opened his hand and looked at his palm, the indentations were already visible. If he were to punch something for any amount of extended time, the skin would surely break.

Regardless of this, he took in a breath and threw four punches. They were not executed with a lot of force or skill, but it was enough to send more sand out of the bag. He aimed for the middle of the bag and tried to keep his fists flush with the equipement.
He straightened his back when he was done and looked at Maegan while lightly rubbing the inside of his hands. "As you can see, I wasn't a pro boxer before I got in here."

ooc - really sorry this took forever, I may have fallen asleep with my laptop open on my legs last night..