Looking for Answers [Slansky]

[Maegan]

It had been a long time since Maegan had been inside the Menagerie. She had, lately, spent some extensive quality time with Jarvis. His partner had been around too, but she had always been Jarvis' project. Him and that stupid schnauzer; at least this time he hadn't chosen a shifter who didn't know that he was a shifter. She only wished she could have seen Jarvis' face when he found out about Ajax. Maegan had known from the start because even. A human, she could understand what the dog had been saying.

It's particular visit had been oddly lengthy. It hadn't been particularly different from the others, despite the length, and this time Maegan had found herself in the company of friends. She had been held in the same vicinity as these particular shifters before and they had plenty of fun together. Even while in for testing, they had a bit of fun messing with the Keepers by talking to each other in shifter tongue. Legend and Josh were always good fun and both friends to her inside and out of the dome. Overall, she'd gotten used to her "check ups" as they were.

They had, however, taken her out for months at a time and Maegan was no expert as recent events. She still didn't know Zephyr was alive, and she had no idea that her best friend and ring leader, Skye, had been killed. You could barely tell she belonged in the Fallen anymore. Having found herself dropped near the Oasis, Maegan quickly made her way there to clean up. As she walked, she brushed the dirt from the light layer of fur that almost invisibly coved her body. She was, at least, thankful that they had washed her clothes because they couldn't stand the smell. Some of the caked blood would need rinsing, but at least her clothes were in good shape.

When she reached the water and had herself all rinsed off, Maegan settled down on the beachside; lying on her back and soaking up the sun. She had changed a lot in 8 years--namely now being an anthro--but a lot of her was still the same 19-year old that she had been when thrown inside this place. Maegan still had her street fighter spirit, she knew her skills and used them well. Se also still dressed the same--never caught in baggy clothing. Maegan is often found as she is dressed now--in a sports bra and jeans, showing off her many tattoos from her days of fighting in New York. Perhaps the one most special to her was on her back, unseen while lying down, of Madagascar with this French phrase written inside, Maison devrait être notre centre, le lieu à partir duquel nous allons enseignements, discipliné, et prête pour la vie.. Translating roughly to, Home ought to be our clearinghouse, the place from which we go forth lessoned and disciplined, and ready for life.

Today, lying on the beach, Maegan found herself thinking of home. She hadn't seen her family or the island in 17 years, and she could only hope and picture that her family had gone into hiding again as lemurs after her capture.

[Slansky Kirov]

After having been gone for several days on a mission, Slansky came back a little worse for wear. He was dirty, scraped, and tired. His original plan had been to go home and sleep, but Akane had insisted (quite mischievously) that she would not touch him--or let him in the bed--until he was a little more... well, clean. After checking in with the Lead Hunter, he shifted into his Akhal-Teke form and loped to the oasis, falling into the steady rhythm of his gait.

Once there, he fully intended to strip down and clean himself off. This thought was interrupted when he very nearly trampled a young lady sprawled out on the shore. He came up over the crest of a dune and, at the last second, made to leap over her rather than crush her underfoot. He hit the hard, wet sand and was suddenly ankle-deep in the water. Slan tossed his head bag, agitated, before pivoting and turning to face the woman. His first thought that she could have been a rogue, but then Slansky proceeded to register the fact that he recognized her from Fallen. He shifted his weight before shifting again, cracking an apologetic smile. "You... caught me by surprise. I couldn't see you over that dune." He spoke in heavily accented shifter tongue.

He felt as though he had to explain himself to keep things from being too awkward and so, almost begrudgingly, he continued. "I just got off a mission and need a bath." This was probably obvious in the sense that his hair was very disheveled and sweaty, and there appeared to be an entire layer of dirt and sweat on his body. With a shrug, Slansky turned from her and unbuttoned his tee shirt. Frankly? He wanted to get back to the train-car and Akane as soon as possible. He was tired. Even so, he felt a little flustered.

[Maegan]

Maegan had heard the shifter making his way toward the oasis, her ears twisted toward the sound as she lay, unmoving. Se was not worried, and indeed, she barely flinched as he leapt over her in a quick move to avoid the unexpected body lying on the beachside. She moved her head as little as she needed to watch the horse throw its head back in apparent agitation. Then, as the recognition set in, she gave a little smile in return to his apologetic one. "No worries." Maegan responded, her voice light, but not quiet and thick with her strange Madagascan accent. She turned her head back to its original position looking straight up at the sky and she closed her eyes again. She didn't much care about the business of others around her--or the fact that they might care about her presence. At the mention of him needing a bath, she simply waved her hand toward the water. "The water is very nice today." She commented, still laying with her eyes closed, just enjoying the sunshine.

Maegan had no intentions of being rude--that was never something she strove to be. Every word was spoken with sincerity and a kindness. Still, she was in a good place, mentally and physically. I tune with her chi, if you will, and she didn't plan on moving. Men were not strangers to her--she knew the male body better than she wished she did, and she didn't care if the man stripped down to bathe, she wasn't going to gawk or stare--she was very content to lay with her eyes closed in the sand. "Don't let me stop you," she said, taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. Her mind went back to her training days, when her coach had taught her how to breathe properly to get ready for a fight. Getting enough oxygen flowing through your body was important and deep slow breaths were the key. So she continued to lay with her palms facing up and he eyes closed but facing the sky, breathing in and out slowly and deeply, imagining herself sinking deeper and deeper into the sand like she was the heaviest thing on the planet, heavier than the earth itself.

Fully relaxed, she let her mind wander the old New York streets and alleys where she had fought and won against all odds. She had once been the best street fighter in the city--it was her pride and joy. That fighting skill was all she had now and it was always a good moment when she allowed herself to travel back to those days as a very young girl just learning English and fighting men three times her age and winning. It certainly gave her the edge in this place.