12913/Hellequin, Vitali, and Xiang.. oh my!

Hellequin, Vitali, and Xiang.. oh my!
Date of Scene:	29 March 2021
Location:	Apartment 214, Hugo Building
Synopsis:	Giles learning about the boys. Willow might be on to the real puzzle of Hellequin.
Cast of Characters:	Willow Rosenberg, Rupert Giles, Vitali Svyatoslav

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Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Giles had wanted to see her - probably because of this mess with the antiques dealer. Perhaps he had heard from Buffy about Vitali. She didn't actually know about Xiang.. yet.

Perhaps it would be better to tell him before he could hear words of it.

As she invited him to the apartment, Willow fixed it up (because she was nervous) and baked a new batch of chocolate chips with walnuts, and put half away for the boys. It didn't take as nearly as long as she thought. Bummer!

Rupert Giles has posed:
Rupert Giles doesn't actually know about Vitali or Xiang as of yet. He'd been pretty vague about why he wanted to see Willow though, it's true. There's been something about the antiques dealer and touching base on various researches the pair happen to be doing.

The knock comes on the door early! Just as Willow was getting half of the cookies put away for the boys. He's probably a good half an hour early, maybe even a little bit more.

Just the one knock, and it's a 'tap tap... tap'. Typical Giles. He even /knocks/ with a British accent!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The door to the second bedroom within the apartment stands partway open. Within that room, upon the floor, has been spread the cured hide of an elk, with the furred side up. Upon the fur is where Vitali sits in cross-legged fashion. His boots sit near to the front door, to prevent him from tracking things into the home that's been graciously offered to him. He has his hands resting lightly upon his knees, and sitting in front of him is a clear glass bottle which is half filled with a mixture of water and what appear to be fruits of some kind. The mixture is swirling around. Vitali's focus is upon that, his dark gaze watching the almost mesmerizing movement of it. The water crushes the berries, releasing the juice from them, mixing it up. There's a duffel bag, packed, sitting next to the wall. It's untied, though the only thing that's come from it is the skin and the bottle. He's dressed in a long-sleeved grey turtleneck shirt, the sleeves pulled down to his wrists, and a pair of dark blue jeans. His long black hair is loose, at the moment, tumbling over his back.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
*eeeeks!*

Not enough time!

Willow really wanted to talk about Hellequin. Meeting in St. Peter's Cathedral had really made her think about him. And even though she still didn't like him, already her heart was turning. (Bummer!!)

With the cookies *just* out of the oven, and barely put them out the plate, Willow welcomed her guest. "Come in, come in! Welcome! Sorry, the guys are making it their home. It's a bit of confusion." Oops, so much for easing up on that one.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Rupert Giles has a warm smile ready for Willow when he sees her. It lights up his face and crinkles up the corners of his eyes too. He steps inside as bidden and closes the door behind him. "Willow, how are you?"

Wait. What? It can be seen, the moment his brain catches up to his ears. "Guys? What guys?" Uh oh. Cat has been thoroughly spilled from the bag. It's all over the floor now, in fact. And Giles has quite come to a standstill. "Making what their home?" His blue eyes dart about, as though ready to see guys in question.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It is an unfamiliar aroma which teases at his nose. There is a slight similarity of it to the flatbread that he can make, but... it's different in many ways. Sweeter, richer, warmer. Lifting his right hand, Vitali makes a slight gesture of his fingers, a speaks a faint murmur of Russian. The mixture swirls up the sides of the corked bottle, and then, rather suddenly, falls still and level within. A faint murmur of Russian from him and a slight movement of the fingers of his right hand causes a sleeve of ice to form just within the interior of the bottle. Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side, and then he reaches out to pick up the bottle before moving it aside and thus out of the way. Nothing within the room has been touched or disturbed. He moves off of the elk's hide, which can be seen better once he has, and seen to be white of hair. There is a bit of reverence, perhaps, or solemnity to his movements as he carefully rolls up the hide. Vitali gracefully rises to his feet before picking up the elk hide, and he moves it over next to the duffel before moving the bottle next to it as well. Were one to look, it could be noticed that the bottle is old, the glass is weathered, yet the bottle is whole.

Quietly, Vitali turns and steps towards the doorway. It takes a couple of steps for him to reach the door, lifting his right hand to touch the door only enough to swing it further openso that he might step into the opening of it. "Dobryy den', Sir," he says, his voice accented with his native Russian.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Sshhhh! Not so loud!!" Willow motions her hand. "Be nice! Vitali is home. I thought he would be away when I asked you to come over." One. She's mentioned one of her two housemates. "I'll explain to you, anything you want to know. But.."

Unfortunately Vitali opened his door the rest of the way. So much for keeping him in the dark.

"Oh, sugar!" Willow stomped her foot.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Not to mention, the rich, heady aroma of the chocolate chips. Giles is staring at Willow now, pretty intent on her, when his initial glance around had produced nothing. And then there's a person. His eyes go to the man with long black hair, then back to Willow. "Who's being mean?" And then back to the other man. Vitali apparently. "Dobryy den'," he replies. His accent isn't as good as Vitali's, but he's understandable, at least. And there's no hesitation to the words, which shows he actually knows them, rather than simply repeating them back. "Rupert Giles." His tone is reserved and not the slightest bit welcoming, nor warm.

Blue eyes flashing just a little bit, he turns back to Willow. "First Buffy. And now you. What is the world coming to?" He turns then, and starts back toward the door. "Neh. This is clearly not a good day for this." He even goes so far as to turn the knob before he pauses. He looks back to Willow, hand still on the door knob. "It would be best if you stayed away from Fontainnebleu Antiques. From the treatises on witches and how to torture and kill them in there, the proprieter dislikes witches in an extreme way."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man isn't really used to much in the way of closed doors. He's from a small village. Everyone knows everyone. And everything. About everyone. It's a very different sort of living, and a very different sort of life. One of his eyebrows quirks up as he looks to Willow, and he tilts his head faintly to one side. "Have done something for make angry?" he asks quite softly, his brow furrowing with a touch of worry.

Vitali's left hand moves softly to rest at the small of his back. He hasn't realized that he's picked up that particular thing from Zhao, as of yet. There's a flicker of surprise that shows in his dark eyes when the greeting is returned to him by the man, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "Ty govorish' po-russki?" he asks, a bit of surprise showing in his voice as well. "Vitali Svyatoslav," he offers, inclining his head towards the man, the gesture a respectful one. One of his eyebrows quirks up a touch, studying him. "Is problem?" he asks, curious.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
*blinks*

First Buffy, and then.. what?! "I'm not living with them, not living *living*at least. They just needed a place to live instead of the street. And I needed a roommate." Okay, there was still the problem of being three separate entities in the two bedroom apartment.

And then it hits her: they could be a couple. At least if they checked on them! She wouldn't tell them. Uh-uh. Nope.

Giles dragged her away.. "Huh? The antique dealer? Why? Just because he has a favourite history lesson. Lots of people like witch trials and things.." She frowns. Okay. Maybe not. Hrm. "Come in. I don't think I need to broadcast to my neighbours, you know?"

"And no, Vitali, you have done nothing wrong. I shouldn't have tried to hide my guest. If I didn't want you to meet him I should have asked you to close your door to your room, just like you have the right to ask me the same. Come. I've got cookies!"

"Oh! Before you meet him.. her?.. Soraya is an eagle. She's.. bonded to Vitali."

Yes, she is expecting to explain everything.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Rupert Giles really had fallen into the role of father figure more than Watcher with this particular group of Slayer and friends. He doesn't answer Vitali for a long breath. Doesn't even look at him. Then he turns his head and takes a breath. Patience. He has it. "No," he says, letting his hand fall from the door and turning back to face the room at large. "No, you haven't done anything wrong." giles takes another deep breath. "I'm being prickly. Sorry. I think the jet lag has finally caught up with me." He might not have gotten much sleep in the last few days, given the time difference between here and England.

"YA znayu, da," he replies to the question asked. He shakes his head, along with having another breath. "Neh. Only my problem. I'm not used to.." He waves a hand between Willow and Vitali. "This." This? This /what/, Giles??

In truth, it might actually be better for Giles' peace of mind if the two men /were/ a couple. He might be able to stomach two strange men living with one of 'his' children. "Roommate. Why were they living on the street?"

He's derailed from that train of thought by the antique dealer. The door is, at least, still closed. He he's turned back to the room. He steps further in. "Do I smell cookies?" Pause, shake of the head. Giles tucks his hands into his pockets, just the fingertips. "It's not simply the books. Some of the things he said. Just.. be careful, Willow. Okay? I have a bad feeling." He has those sometimes! And they're not always even remotely accurage. He perks up a little bit, a hopeful light coming to his expression. "There /are/ cookies. I'm not imagining things." He pauses and blinks, and stares at Willow. "Eagle? What? Bonded?" Someone's confused!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a moment where Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side, looking to Willow, and one of his eyebrows quirks up. He wasn't living on the streets. Well. Not exactly, at least. He was living in the woods. In a camp without a tent. It wasn't far from -a- street but it wasn't on the street. The Siberian man chooses not to make an issue of it. He studies Willow for a moment more after her words for him, and then he gives a small nod. "Not wish for do wrong things. Can give privacy, if want," he offers, respectfully.

Then he blinks at her, a bit puzzled. "Cookies?" he asks, confused. He has no idea what cookies are. He takes a moment, his dark gaze focusing on nothing briefly. "Soraya is she. On roof, eating," he says, a smile touching at the corners of his lips as he inclines his head towards Willow. His attention shifts to the man, and he tilts his head slightly to one side. And he blinks. Puzzled and confused. "Jet lag?" he asks, sounding as though he has no concept of what that might be. He's never seen a jet let alone travelled on one to have an inkling of understanding. "Is good to meet, da," he says softly, giving a small nod to Giles.

"Come here by ship. Make camp, in woods. Live there. Not far different than when on hunt, at home. Willow find there," he says, offering up the answer himself. Then he glances towards Willow before his gaze turns back to Giles, and he inclines his head. "Da, eagle. Soraya is name. Have bond to Soraya. Is magic. Me, to her. Her, to me," he adds, attempting to explain it without lapsing into his native tongue.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"In this country," explains Willow, to Vitali. "Living in the streets counts in the woods as well. Anywhere you don't have an official address, is living on the streets." That includes Xiang and his 'home' in the rundown section of town, living in an old warehouse.

At least, cookies weren't very hard to explain. She slips out to go and get some.

"We, well I, met the one who calls himself Hellequin in a church. It was bizarre, Giles. I wanted to talk with you about him, if you don't mind?" She comes out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies. "The tea is on." Something else the two men shared.

Rupert Giles has posed:
For all intents and purposes, that's the same thing! Camping rough and living that way, rather than simply camping for a weekend is all but the same thing as living on the streets. Rupert Giles blinks. And blinks again. She. On roof. Eating. Buh? "Jet lag," he says, disregarding the she eating on the roof for now, "Is a term used to describe when a person moves quickly from one time zone to another. It simply means my body and mind are still used to being in England, where the time is different than here."

There's a short pause, and then a nod. "It is. Good to meet. ... By ship? That is a long trip." Giles thinks about what is said about Soraya. "Ah. I see."

He nods to what Willow says about living on the streets. That's accurate, yup. He watches as Willow goes to the kitchen. He lifts his right hand free of his pocket and runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't mind, Willow. What was bizarre about it?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Soraya come when done. Can meet. Is good eagle. Is calm. Obeys," Vitali says, inclining his head towards Giles, a bit of a smile touching at the corners of his lips. His dark gaze turns to Willow, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "Official address? What is?" he asks, giving a small and confused shake of his head. The concept is lost on him. His village doesn't even have named streets let alone house numbers!

There are a great many things that he doesn't understand. He still hasn't touched the fridge. Or any of the other electronic things in the apartment. He's wary of them! His brow furrows slightly at the mention of someone called Hellequin, but there's no recognition to his features at all. Then his expression brightens, at the mention of tea. "Tea good, if have enough for share," he says, inclining his head towards Willow. He won't presume that she does. Then his gaze falls to the plate of cookies, the cookies being studied a bit.

He turns his gaze to Giles, and then he gives a nod. "Da, is long trip. Cargo ship. Take many moons," he says softly, his brow furrowing slightly. Getting passage on a cargo ship cost less for his home village than a passenger vessel would have. And even then, it had taken more than a few months to get here. The weather hadn't been great, and he isn't quite strong enough to inject his control into the weather. Maybe someday.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Well.." Willow puts the plate on the coffee table. "Everyone says he's a fanatic, correct? Correct." She hates where it is going. "But he's not. Not really. For example, he tried to kill Kurt, but he couldn't. So he stopped and questioned him instead. I mean he tried and *could not*."

As much as she didn't like him, she felt incredibly as she had done with Spike or Angel. It was strange.

"Oh! He once was human." That one she was thinking about.

"There's always enough to share here. Always." Except the chocolate bars she had hidden in the fridge, under the crisper marked 'potions'. Those were hers!

Rupert Giles has posed:
Rupert Giles does not look entirely certain about meeting an eagle. Even a calm, obedient one. Point of fact, he looks a bit wary. So that gets quite ignored, for now. There will be time, maybe, for that later. "An official address is where you live officially. The address for this apartment, if this is where you are living, would be your offical address." He has no clue that the concept of 'address' is probably also foreign. He simply thinks it's probably a language barrier.

Giles moves toward the couch and sits down, reaching for a cookie in the process. He offers it to Vitali. "Here. Try it. They're good. Willow bakes the best cookies." He reaches for a second cookie and takes a bite of it.

"I don't know. I haven't met him to say whether or not he's a fanatic." He listens to what Willow has to say, expression thoughtful the whole while. "Hm. Could not. No questions before he tried to kill... who is Kurt?" Pause, and Giles eats another bite while shaking his head. "Nah. Not important. Why do you think he couldn't kill this Kurt?" He shows no hestiation for 'sharing'. "Tea would be lovely, by the way. Thank you for putting it on."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is a measure of puzzlement. Vitali has no idea who Willow is talking about. He listens attentively to all that she says, though, even if he doesn't have much in the way of a frame of reference for it. He inclines his head towards her, a smile easily finding his features when she mentions about there always being enough. "Spasibo, Willow. Appreciate, much," he says softly. Very much. Tea is his beverage of choice, and to be able to have it instead of simply water is something he's grateful for.

He looks to Giles, and still seems a trifle puzzled. "Streets in home not have names. Notice names, here. No numbers. Many things different, here. Will be fine for meet. Eagle not bite," he says softly, a touch of a smile coming to his features. With the plate of cookies taken over to the coffee table, he'll wait for the others to take a seat before he does. At the offer of the cookie by Giles, he reaches out to accept it before giving a grateful nod. "Spasibo," he says. Then he does take a seat, and it's on the floor, in cross-legged fashion.

The cookie is lifted and sniffed, first. It seems a logical place to start. He glances towards Giles, watching the other man take a bite of the cookie. And he trusts, then, and he takes a small bite of the cookie. And while he chews on the small bite, he studies the cookie in his hand. It's... the strangest food thing that he's ever eaten. It kind of reminds him of bread, but... it's lighter and has a different texture, there's these melty bits of delicious goo in them, and it's sweet. And he goes a bit quiet whilst he considers this amazing little creation and takes another bite of it.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Well, if I had to say, I'd say his devotion saved him." Willow speaks carefully, "It should be noted that Kurt resembles a very hairy, blue demon."