monoculi | 001. not in kansas, toto [action/voice]

[Xander has woken up in some pretty weird places in his time. It's an occupational hazard of fighting the forces of evil and usually getting knocked unconscious as a result. However, this - Luceti, that is - has certainly raised the bar of weirdness.

Cold, hard, earth underneath his bare (and oddly uncomfortable) back, greenery and trees all around, and some frankly bizarre white pants on his lower half. Blinking, groaning and fumbling to feel for his eyepatch (on his face, mercifully) he sits up.]

What the...? [he mutters, looking around incredulously - at that moment noticing his clothes piled neatly beside him, along with the rather incongruous looking journal. He stares, then sighs, reaching for his clothes - this is all probably Andrew's moronic doing, his idea of a hilarious prank - after all, if it was a demon thing, he'd probably be dead or eaten by now. Or possibly disembowelled.

He moves to pull his sweater over his head, but encounters difficulty at his shoulder blades - an odd obstruction, something there where there should be nothing. After a couple of frustrated tugs, he reaches back to find out what the problem is, and oh - feathers. Attached to... wings. Well, that's a game-changer.

Now fully miffed (and feeling a lot less relaxed about this whole experience) he abandons the sweater and reaches for the book instead, stifling the urge to panic. There were bound to be clues in here, right? He arrives at the first page and eyes it with suspicion - some kind of communication device? After a moment of ginger examination, he hesitantly selects the 'voice' function, muttering to himself:]

Yay, a mysterious book. Because that always ends so spectacularly well.

[and now raising his voice substantially:]

Okay, listen up, Andrew - whatever kind of hilarious joke you're playing, it's very much not hilarious. And if you don't get out here within the next two seconds and undo whatever funky mojo you did to my back, I will personally locate and destroy your vintage 1989 Sega Mega Drive console. Mint condition and boxed, third drawer from the left, don't think I won't do it!

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[he pauses mid-struggle, spinning around with surprise when she giggles. The fact that Katniss is carrying a large bow should probably be more alarming, but as she doesn't seem intent on shooting anything at him, he's not overly concerned.]

Oh, it has holes, just not in the most convenient places. [A beat.] Rarely have I felt this ridiculous.

Edited 2013-03-08 21:33 (UTC)

[It does take her by some surprise that he lacks any concern over her armed bow. But then again, maybe he's just smart. It's a trait she still considers relatively rare among those she's met here. But it's one she won't complain about. Someone who actually knows the difference between defense and offense.

She quirks an eyebrow, smiling just a bit.]

Are there holes for the wings? That's what you really need. Unless the sweater is really big.

[Like her hunting jacket; meant more for a grown man than a teenage girl.]

[well, as someone who has had weapons wielded in his general direction many a time, it's true and she's right - he can tell the difference between a threatening stance and a cautious one.]

Hmm. Let's take a look. [he pulls the sweater back over his head, a little self-consciously, and holds it up for inspection.] Nope, no wing holes. [a pained expression crosses his face.]

I hate to ask this, because I really liked this sweater, but you don't happen to have anything sharp-and-or-pointy, do you?

[she looks like the kind of girl who carries pointy things - in the best possible way.]

[In response to his question, she gives him a wide eyed, incredulous stare. Does he think she's that dumb? Just because she holds her bow at the ready rather than primed to shoot, doesn't mean that she's ready to trust a total stranger with something sharp.

Especially something sharp and potentially harmful to her own self.

No. There's only so much trust she's willing to give.]

[...ah. oops. her expression seems pretty unequivocal. he holds up his hands in an apologetic gesture.]

...okay, my bad. I wouldn't trust a crazy one-eyed man in the woods talking to himself who couldn't get dressed either. It's fine, I can improvise.

[She wouldn't, couldn't, trust any stranger she's just met. It doesn't matter if he has one eye or two, if she met him in the woods are in the town. Trusting is not something that's ever come naturally to her. In the past few years, it's only gotten harder.

But it is cold out here. And he's never going to get that sweater on without those holes. She can have some sympathy. Sometimes.

Katniss holds out a hand and nods towards him.] I can do it.

[xander is immeasurably grateful, because despite professing his ability to improvise, he really didn't have many viable ideas, and it is very cold. he takes a careful step closer and offers her the sweater.]

Thank you. Not sure I could successfully chew through wool blend.

[She watches the man approach, keeping her hand hovering over her skinning knife. A skinning knife, she realizes, that's still a little blurry. She frowns a little as she looks down at the relatively clean garment in her other hand.

Without much of an explanation, she pulls out the knife and wipes it against the material of her pants.]

I hunt. [She says the words awkwardly, as if the squirrel hanging from her belt isn't explanation enough. But it's something to fill in the silence as she carefully begins to cut in the back of the sweater.] I think most of the blood is dry.

It's okay, I'll... probably have to bid a fond farewell to this sweater anyway.

[he watches her cutting into the sweater, feeling more than a little awkward. she looks a similar age to dawn, maybe a little younger - yet she seems old beyond her years. he makes a gesture towards the dangling squirrel.]

You must have a pretty good aim to hit those things.

[She looks up from her work on the sweater and offers an actual smile. A smile that makes her look much more like the eighteen year old she's supposed to be. A smile clearly tinged with pride.

She unhooks the squirrel carcass from her belt and tosses it at him.] My arrow pierced its eye. There's not much meat in the head, so it's a good place to aim. Direct kill that won't ruin the parts that are edible.

[a smile, that's progress! he returns it, before - oh, hello, that's a dead squirrel being tossed in his direction. he catches it with a slightly fumbled grasp, resisting all his inner 'eww' instincts.]

Are they, uh... [he looks at the squirrel in his hands, and gulps.] ...tasty?

[The smile is upgraded to a quiet giggle as she fumbles with the squirrel. That most probably wouldn't like to handle a skinned creature hadn't crossed her mind. She had only wanted to show off her handiwork. Handiwork that required closer examination.

As she finishes cutting the first hole in his sweater, she nods at his question.] If you season them right. I usually put them into stews.

[and fine handiwork it is, even if he's perhaps not quite the person to appreciate it to the fullest. he gives the squirrel in his hands another ginger look.]

Stews, huh? See, I would've gone for a straightforward barbecue approach.

[She nods. It's not a bad suggestion. And sometimes barbecue is easier. Constructing a quick roast spit over an open fire in the summer nights and cooking the day's catch. But it doesn't warm you the same way a good hearty stew does. It doesn't fill you the same way.]

It's not bad. [She shrugs a little as she says that, starting on the other hole.] Especially when you have enough leaves for a good salad to go with it. It's great in the spring.

[he nods - he'd probably still pick a burger over a stewed/BBQ squirrel any day, but she seems to know her stuff. the oddly random nature of this conversation leads him to say:]

I don't usually swap recipe tips before introductions, but hi. I'm Xander. And I'm really grateful - for this. [he gestures to her work on his sweater.]

[While she's not necessarily as standoffish as she had once been a year ago, it still takes a few seconds for her to remember manners. To glance up from her work on the sweater to look over the man with the eye-patch again.]

Katniss Everdeen. [She says her name with a slight shrug, waving off the gratitude.] It's cold out here. Guess the Malnosso don't take that into account when they bring people here.

[Katniss - it's a pretty unusual name, and he's tempted to ask about it, but that might be a little too personal, under the circumstances. So instead, he'll opt for some light humour.]

So inconsiderate. They could've consulted me on the wing colour too, because teal?

[The humor is probably the right choice. Despite herself, she smiles shyly at him to let her amusement make itself known. Her head tilts a little to get a better look at his wings and that teal color and then, seconds later, her nose wrinkles.

He's right. It's not a good color at all.]

Mine look like those of a mockingjay.

[Hidden as they are underneath her hunting jacket.]

001. not in kansas, toto [action/voice]

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