13056/Night Hunt, What do Monsters do

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Night Hunt, What do Monsters do
Date of Scene: 18 April 2021
Location: Brendan Cemetery, Sunnydale
Synopsis: Some demons got diverted, and things were discussed.
Cast of Characters: Xiang Zhao, Sinister, Vitali Svyatoslav




Xiang Zhao has posed:
The night is relatively early, at not much long past midnight. The moon hangs in a bright crescent to the west, and just a bit north, not far above the horizon. There are no clouds to block its shine, nor the shine of the sparkling stars up above. The high places in the cemetary are free of the fog, giving clear view of the sky. The low places, on the other hand, have fog so thick it's hard to see through it. There is no wind. Everything is still.

In one of those low places, the fog starts to stir, and then swirl as though a light breeze passes through. Xiang Zhao emerges, an open folding fan held in his right hand. The calm waving of that fan seems to be what caused much of the stirring of that fog. Bits of it cling to the Chinaman as he paces up the path he walks, standing out from the dark robes he wears this night. They appear black, at least in the darkness, and flow toward the ground. His left hand is tucked at the small of his back, the long sleeve on that side trailing somewhat behind him. The top and sides of his long, dark hair has been pulled back and secured with a wooden hair stick with a pair of swirls at one end and a sensuous curve to it. Another folded fan along with a white jade flute are tucked behind the sash beneath his outer robe, just visible at the front.

Xiang Zhao's pace is unhurried as he walks toward the top of the hill. One of the highest in this particular cemetary, but not /the/ highest. He seems unperturbed by the darkness. Calm despite the fact that there might be monsters or evil spirits roaming about. This is Sunnydale, afterall. It's not precisely known for being quite when it comes to evil activity. His aim looks to be a mausoleum situated at the top. A square pedestal stands there, with an angel statue atop it. The angel's wings are ever so slightly spread, as though it might take off at any moment.

Or is it a statue? The head moves, ever so slightly. The eyes blink once. Then it is still again. If Zhao notices, he pays it no mind.

Sinister has posed:
Such a gloriously forboding night, indeed. The set piece for any haunting that one might care to imagine, no film maker could conceive of a better backdrop. But this is not the movies and reality bites. In the very distance, the sound of a car passes, but that's literally the only sound beyond footfalls that could be made out with any clarity.

Would Xiang feel as if he was being watched? Surely so, in a place known for its evil, but at least one sensation in amongst many must surely be unnoticed. Surely, so.

On a park bench, which during the day was occupied by occasional little old ladies and at least one homeless man, a young fellow sits, very still. Wearing a sports jacket over a crisp white shirt and fashionably pre-stressed jeans, he's black haired, blue eyed and otherwise cutely non-descript, saving that he does not look like he ought to be in a graveyard, at night, unsupervised. There are no weapons upon him, no flashes, no bells nor whistles and but for the fact that his clothing is very neat and precise in its lines, he could be anybody. But he is also as still as the statue of that angel, saving for eyes that track the movements. Not a sound. It's possible he's not even breathing.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It really is a glorious night, isn't it? Xiang Zhao turns his head to contemplate that angel, then looks up at the stars. "You know you are not fooling anyone, do you not?" The question comes in Mandarin. The voice is quiet, soft, as though that is simply how he habitually speaks, rather than respecting the darkness. Gentle, almost. And as peacefully serene as the expression he wears upon his face. Zhao looks to the angel again, one raven brow arched over an equally dark eye.

The angel doesn't move, for a very long moment, and then it sighs. "How is it you always know, Zhao?" The language replied back in is the same the Chinaman had spoken in to start with. Mandarin.

This brings a shrug from Xiang Zhao. "Because I can see your aura, Statues do not have auras." Well. That is simple logic, isn't it? "Why are you out here again? One of these nights, someone is going to see you and mistake you for a ghost. Or a demon."

The angel hops down from the square stone pedestal and paces toward Zhao. The wings are not quite right for an angel's. They're not shaped entirely right. And there are little claws at the top. And it walks like its legs aren't shaped quite like an average human's. More on its toes. Or, well, his toes. "I was bored and the night is pleasant."

Though the young man sitting on the park bench has been noticed, and noted, that is all the attention Xiang Zhao pays him. He doesn't appear to be a threat, afterall. So other than keeping a general sense of where he is, just in case the appearance is deceptive, the bulk of his attention is focused on.. whatever it is.

Sinister has posed:
Deep thoughts are self-contained, but it is a trifling thing to listen to the surface of a mind -- without guarding against such things, intention is followed mere moments by actuation of deed, but speech, language, that begins in the mind and thus intention there becomes translation to the listener on the great Broadband of the Psychic field. The young man on the bench looks over in the direction of asian and gargoyle with the barest of movements, just a little shift of the chin and a flicker of hair stirred by motion. The crest of that hill is interesting. The low of that trough though, is more so and his head tilts just slightly as things stir beneath the surface of mausoleums and graves, going about thier nightly accord -- some peacefully, others not so much.

Something with horns and a face that only a mother could love, emerges from a crypt, sniffing the air. It moves laterally through the fog but the man on the bench pays it no more mind than the asian and his gargoyle. THEY might have issues though, as it's soon followed by another, then another. A small hunting pack of...whatever the hell they are (literally, most likely)

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao's mind seems to be as calm as the rest of him appears to be. The surface, at least. Calm and ordered. Relaxed. The ghost, on the other hand, is antsy. And it paces back and forth in front of the Chinaman. "I'm /bored/," he confesses to Zhao. "I want to do.. something. I don't know what. But something."

The chinaman raises that brow again. "Yan. You are going to get yourself caught or killed if you are not careful." Those feathered wings flare out and then close again, and the not quite an angel sighs. "Yeah yeah. You're right, and I know it, but still." But Xiang isn't paying him as much mind, now. Nope, The horned things emerging from a crypt have caught his attention and that is where he looks. "We may have a problem, Yan," he says in a quiet, still calm tone.

Zhao looks from the horned things to the young man on the bench, perhaps wondering which way the horned beasts are going to turn, and whether or not that one might be in danger. He turns a bit, eyes going to the horned beasts, and then waits to see what their play is going to be. He really shouldn't be hunting monsters at night right now. Really he shouldn't. There's a surface thought of a dark haired man just a bit taller than himself, and a 'if he finds out, I am going to get that look again/. And he stays where he is. For now.

Sinister has posed:
Hunched over, the horned things hiss at one another, long arms, claw-tipped at the end, raise up and one gestures to another, a complex series of hand gestures -- their jaws seem to split in two at the dip of chin, marrow-bone suckers or some other kind of scavenger demon. Not one of them would turn down a -fresh- meal though, instead of the already slain prey. This is likely why they travel in a small pack. One lifts its almost-human face to sniff the fog, picking up on the moisture and a long tongue flicks out like a serpent's, tasting what it cannot smell and likely has trouble seeing in this obscuring night.

The man on the bench stays still, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they turn in his direction, stalking through the cover of the fog in his direction, fanning out, to make a beach-head of the bench. The young man reaches into his inside pocket, the most movement that has been had in such a long time and extracts a smartphone, which flicks on and illuminates his face from beneath. He doesn't stroll, simply looks at it, but no doubt is looking at his feed.

Closer and closer, the demons make a series of soft clicks, almost like the sound of pebbles on a rockface.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
As he sees the demon scavengers moving toward the youngster on the bench, Xiang Zhao shakes his head. "You coming?" He glances toward the one he'd called Yan. It, he, nods and steps up alongside Zhao. Curiously, the fan never stops its calm waving. Not yet, at least. Xiang Zhao turns and starts toward a spot somewhat between the man on the bench and the scavengers. His feet don't make any sound on his chosen path. The only sounds are that of silk on silk as his clothing moves against itself. And that is a very quiet sound indeed.

Yan on the other hand, is not nearly so quiet as Zhao is. It seems he finds every little rock and pebble and branch and kicks or steps on them. And those wings keep flaring out and then folding back, making a quietish sound of feathers on feathers every time. "Try not to get dead, Yan. Your company is interesting." Zhao glances once to the ghost walking at his side, then back to the scavengers.

Sinister has posed:
The demons pause in their advance, or at least one of them does and signals to the other two with a kind of grinding chirp; the three of them turn just a little, so that they are oblique to the approaching Gargoyle and magician, sizing both man and strange being up. Three against two, is not as favourable as three against one, but one at the back makes a warbling noise and two more of the creatures emerge from another open mausoleum, peering about and sniffing, flicking tongues. One of those two looks as if it was injured -- a family unit of the diabolical? Maybe. Those two look smaller, younger perhaps. But now, there are five when there had only been three. THe largest straightens a bit, arms spreading wide and hisses toward Xiang and Yan.

Perhaps it was the hiss that drew the youth's face from his phone to look more directly at the goings on. Either way, blue eyes flicker between the tableau and he slowly puts his phone back, rising with equal slowness. Trepidation? Caution? Perhaps. He does not seem terrifically alarmed, but that may be because it's hard to tell what everything is, when shrouded in fog. Swish of silk, clatter of pebbles and slow rustles of cotton on cotton, a creak of shiny and stiff shoes.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao doesn't react when two more emerge, other than to take note of them and where they happen to be. He remains just as calm as before. Five? Not a problem when there's a ghost with him. Well, in technical terms, most would call Yan a demon. He is not a demon as western civilazation sees them. He was a raven originally. Before he 'evolved'. Xiang Zhao's left hand remains at the small of his back. He's not worried in the slightest. The only thing that shows even the remotest hints of concern is that he is watching the scavenger demons.

He steps calmly forward and then stops, still waving that fan. "You can leave. Or you can die." His eyes rest on what is apparently the leader of the demons. And he still speaks in Mandarin. Yan has stopped somewhat behind and to the side of him. His wings flare out, and his hands come up. Clawed. He appears to have no other weapons.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Fog is just another form of water. It's not the first time that Vitali has been within the cemetary, and it's unlikely that it will be the last time, either. There had been someone laid to rest here earlier today, and though he knew the person not at all, he had come earlier to sit at the side of the grave and had remained from when he'd arrived through the night until now. Thus far, the spirit had not come, and Vitali's thoughts have been both calm and still.

He had felt the fog's chill upon the backs of his hands, and upon his face, and he opens his eyes. He hadn't particularly been paying attention before, but the still night brings the sounds of voices to where he sits cross-legged upon the grass near to the grave. Quietly, he rises to his feet before he starts to pick his way amongst the gravestones, the calmness remaining within him though there is now a flicker of curiosity to him as well. He's dressed in dark clothes himself, tonight -- black jeans, and a black long-sleeved turtleneck. There are no apparent weapons on his person. The fog swirls a little bit as he moves through it, but he makes a faint gesture of the fingers of his left hand as he murmurs softly. And the fog moves forward ahead of him, with him.

Sinister has posed:
THe lead demon does that thing that they do in circumstances where telepathy is not assisting. It looks at the seemingly weaponless human, at the 'demon' with its claws and wings, then GLARKS at its family unit. Two of the demons move to circle the two of them, the younger ones with the exception of the injured youth, hold back but behind the leader, likely to help when they have opportunity. Poor fools, no? They hunt like hyenas -- one will lunge directly, the others will take swipes of opportunity and so it is that the leader makes a lunge for the human. Maybe they are stupid enough to think that Yan may enjoy fresh meat also. This IS sunnydale after all.

The young man that was sitting on the bench moves smoothly to the left end of it, resting one hand on the back. Really, there could be all kinds of dangers associated with the here and the now, but his free hand is lifted, fingers spread and a gesture of flicking is made at one of the demons that was about to lunge on Yan and it literally goes flying backwards into a gravestone. That's all he does though, as the demon struggles up to all fours, shaking its head as it rises to two legs, looking confused.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
One of those voices is the familiar soft burr of Xiang Zhao's too. Something Vitali should be quite familiar with. Even with the lilting words spoken in Mandarin rather than English. For all the scavengers know, Yan may well enjoy fresh flesh. Too bad for them that he's a vegetarian crow. One that Xiang had befrieded when he stared sharing food with him in the abandoned warehouse he used to occupy.

As the lead scavenger lunges, Xiang Zao takes half a step to the side and flicks that fan to his side, so that the curved edge comes into contact with the demon's side. And as though it's got a wickedly sharp edge, which it does, the fan slices a long, half inch deep wound from the demon's shoulder to its hip.

Xiang Zhao makes a tsk of sound. "I will let you live if you retreat now," he says, still in Mandarin.

Yan spins on another of the demons that had circled, and flicks his wing out. The end hits the demon and sends it flying.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Evil can come in many forms either physical or incorporeal. His thoughts remain calm, though there is a certain amount of focus upon controlling the fog that moves with him. Vitali tilts his head faintly to one side as he catches the familiar tones of Zhao's voice. Zhao is here? What's Zhao doing here? Vitali's steps pause for a brief moment as he considers that, although the question could just as easily be turned upon himself as well with remarkable ease. A cemetery in the middle of the night wasn't exactly the usual place for him to be, after all.

The Siberian starts to pick his way a bit more quickly amongst the gravestones, heading towards where he'd heard Zhao's voice. The fog still moves with him, still controlled by him. It is a small expenditure of energy, but one that he feels is worthwhile. He gives a soft murmur of sound and there's a shift of his concentration as he gives a slight gesture of the fingers of his left hand, a spear similar to a javelin appearing there. It's made of solid ice, and the head of it is quite sharp. He shifts the weight of it slightly then steps out of the fog at the same time as he throws the weapon towards one of the demons, aiming towards its torso.

Sinister has posed:
The poor demons don't really stand a chance. A second is speared as the first was slit from hip to shoulder. And that third that was thrown looks at its companions and yelps, sending the two youngest scattering -- another round of fighting will occur, simply because one must fight to beat a retreat and a couple of good claw-swipes are offered toward our heros as they do so. Whether these land or not is up for debate.

Observations on strangely behaving fog made, the man at the bench relaxes his hand to his side, looking for all the world like a regular kid out where he shouldn't be after dark once again. "Well, that was bracing. What -were- those things?" is asked to thin air, translated in the manner of marvels by a mind that works in Subtle Ways. Make no mistake, mandarin or siberian, words spoken in english are entirely understandable.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao is here, yes. He tends to be out and about at night. Plus, the Siberian had not been home when Xiang had gone out just after dark.

His left hand still at the small of his of back, Zhao watches the demon he had injured. If the injury is tended, it won't be fatal. When Yan moves to give chase, Xiang raises his left hand in a sort of 'hold' gesture. The raven stops immediately, and returns to Xiang's side.

Xiang Zhao watches as the other demons beat a hasty retreat. Then he turns to nod to Vitali. "Tali'gege," he greets. Then the youngester speaks. Xiang's left hand goes back to the small of his back and he turns to consider the man. He gives a shake of his fan, sending any blood droplets that might be on the rounded end of it flying off. After, the fan goes back to waving lazily, wafting a breeze to Xiang's face. "Demons," he says. Only, he is responding in English. He may not even realize something was being translated.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Sometimes effective is better than impressive. Especially given the strong desire that exists within him to protect Zhao. The Siberian gives a slight dismissive gesture of his left hand, and the fog returns to act as nature intended for it to. His attention shifts to one of the remaining demons, and there's a focus of his concentration before he closes the fingers of his left hand, a new ice spear appearing glistening there. Just in case.

Vitali's gaze flicks over Zhao, and then he gives a small nod, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. "Zhao-gege," responds the man in like kind. His dark hair is caught at the nape of his neck and neatly braided. The spear is easily shifted within his hand, turned, and then the sharp end of it speared into the earth. Vitali makes a faint gesture of his left hand and the spear instantly melts. His attention turns to the fellow on the bench, and he gives a small nod of agreement to Zhao's words. "Evil beings," he affirms.

Sinister has posed:
"Demons? Gosh," The youth shakes his head faintly. "I heard things about Sunnydale, but seeing is believing, I suppose. Thank you for being..." trailing off as he takes that moment to take in Yan as if he's only just seeing the being for the first time "...here." Staying on the spot, Sinister seems transfixed, fascinated even.

It takes several moments of gazing at the stone raven angel creature, for him to come back to the two men. "Oh, I beg your pardon. Is this a common thing in this town? People being in graveyards that is, I came to see if the strange was true, which it seems to be."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
As far as Xiang Zhao is concerned, effective is always better than impressive. Impressive can only get one so far against foes with real skills. The ice spear is noted. Xiang's only reaction is one brow arching up. There is another nod for Vitali, perhaps newfound understanding. He'd always had an idea that Vitali knew how to take care of himself. He'd had no idea this was how. This is a good thing to know.

Zhao's attention turns to the youth again. His lips juuust twitch up at the corners at the youth's reaction to Yan. Yah, however, kind of half steps behind Zhao, as though to hide behind the taller human. His head peeks out, deep brown eyes looking at the younger person. One clawed hand reaches from behind Zhao again, and waves at the youngster. "Do not mind Yan. He is shy." He glances to Yan, then to Vitali, and back to the younger man. "It seems to be, yes. Also, in Chinatown, strange things also come out. I am uncertain of other areas. These are the places I go first." Still in English. Seems he knows Vitali doesn't speak his language, and the young man had spoken in English. So, it seems the right thing to do.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a small and single nod given to the youth on the bench, as though to confirm the notion of demons. They do exist, and there are a number of different types of them. "Am not knowing if finding creatures is often or not," Vitali says, lifting one of his shoulders in a faint shrug. He hasn't been in Sunnydale for long enough to kow what might be normal. He had been here for a spirit, and the spirit hadn't come. He'll have to return tomorrow to try again. He gives a small nod to the youth when the thanks are offered, though he feels that he had done little.

"Is depending on people, da? Some come, some not come. Graveyard is peaceful space, often," Vitali says, giving a small nod. It's an ambiguous answer at best. Though he does speak in English rather than his native Russian, although his voice is accented with the latter. He knows Zhao doesn't understand his native tongue, and so he tries not to speak it around him.

He doesn't mention the ice spear, or the fact that it's melted now. Perhaps he feels no need to speak of such things. It is but one way that he has of protecting himself, and he doesn't speak about the other ways he has, either, nor does he think of them.

Sinister has posed:
"Chinatown? That is odd, but good to know. Thank you," Sinister flicks imaginary dust off the cuff of his left sleeve, leaning a little to the side to catch a better sight of the waving Yan, then with a very slight frown, he looks out over the graveyard once again, supposing something to himself perhaps. "There is a creature over there..." he states, pointing into the darkest of the dark, where the fog is thick "...which is watching us all. Do you suppose it might be a vampire? I have been itching to see one of those, but I think that would probably be a little dangerous to admit, in most circles." Says the young man that was hanging out in a graveyard after dark.

Maybe it strikes him that his actions are strange, as is his presence here. "Oh, My name is Nathan, by the way." He sounds like he's english. "I'm an exchange student at Sunnydale College. I'm thinking of majoring in parapsychology given that it's a growing field, but I think I probably should've come here with at least some mace. This might have been a very dumb idea."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Those ones will kill if they have the opportunity, but they are largely harmless if they stay in the wild places where they belong." Xiang Zhao turns to look into the darkness where the demons had disappeared. "They get only one chance. If I catch them preying on humans again, I will kill them." Or, well, attempting to prey on humans is more accurate. But still. The intent is there. Zhao means what he says. The next time, he will show no mercy at all to them. "Finding creatures is often," he says, dark eyes turning to look to Vitali. "Especially in burial places."

He, like Vitali, inclines his head to the young man at the thanks offered. "You are welcome." Even if it is a little belated. He doesn't ask after the spear, either. Such is not needed. He saw. He trusts his eyes. And his senses. Zhao looks to the youth again. "Mm. Chinatown. I go there more frequently than here. There, the monsters are more those I am used to fighting. They are the same, or similar, to what I knew from home, on the mountain."

As the youth leans to get a better look at him, Yan gives a little squeak and scoots further behind Xiang Zhao. Until he's almost huddling against Xiang's back. Xiang.. actually seems used to this and doesn't comment on it. The mention of something else watching them, however, has Xiang looking off in the direction mentioned. He considers the area, then nods. "Mm. It feels like a vampire. That one is always here. I have never seen or felt it leave that spot." Perhaps it is caged or tethered, somehow.

There is a quiet chuckle from Xiang at the youth's admission. "Perhaps. I have not ever been in any circles that you might call.. normal." Says the older man who was hanging out in a graveyard after dark. Kindred souls and the like. "I am Xiang Zhao," he says, offering his name. Though there is something under the thoughts that come with the name. A whisper of a sound. Lianzan. Just that whisper, and it is gone.

Xiang Zhao glances around and then back to the youth. "Perhaps. But you are safe." There's a sense about him that he will stand between the others and danger just to make sure they are safe.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Am not knowing Chinatown. Have not been," Vitali says, his brow furrowing slightly before his expression clears once again. He tilts his head faintly to one side when it's divulged about the creature that watches them, and one of his eyebrows quirks up a touch. Yet he doesn't look towards the creature at all. "Many things watch, in night," he says in a thoughtful tone.

"Is nice for meeting, Nathan. Am Vitali," he offers in response, giving a small nod to the youth. He offers only his first name. His gaze turns to Zhao, and he tilts his head a touch to one side as he listens attentively to what's said by the Chinaman. And then he gives a small and single nod. "Will watch for, when here," he says softly, his tone sincere. He hadn't been looking for creatures here in the cemetery, he'd just been trying to help a spirit.

"Will be careful if am ever going to Chinatown. Try to be careful in all places," Vitali says, giving a small nod. Then his attention returns to the youth, studying him. "Da, are safe," he says softly, echoing Zhao's words.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister considers, looking no longer at Yan, for the creature hides /so/ well. Nevermind that I can still feel you right there. Instead, he focuses on the two 'adults' in the vicinity, then as an homage to the moment off to where he 'sensed' the creature, lurking in its darkness. In for a penny: "You can speak in your native tongues, if you wish to. It's my gift. I facilitate communication," he offers, taking out from the inside pocket of his OPPOSITE lapel, a snack pack of bugles. He pops it open and crunches cheerfully enough. "Because obviously none of us are normal. I worked that one out all on my own." The smile comes but it might be an afterthought, albeit a very slight one. "Spirits exist, also?"

The paranormal wannabe-student leaves his bench behind, draws closer, enough that he can actually see the bulk of Yan behind Xiang at least, even if it's mostly obscured. "Odd that Chinatown has more of what you're used to, unless that's something worth studying. Maybe it is! I could possible do a thesis on that later on; cultural influence on paranomal manifestation."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao glances to Vitali, lips curling up ever so slightly again. "There is good food and good tea in Chinatown. Food like what I know how to make." He nods about watching for creatures. "I have seen more demons in Chinatown than other creatures. Some ghosts. A few spirits." He nods a little bit. "I will take you to Chinatown. There are some people there I think you would like." Or, perhaps, people there that Xiang would like to introduce him to!

Yan peeks out from behind Xiang's shoulder again, and seems to relax now that he's not being looked at. Finally, the raven stands a little more normally, no longer entirely hiding. That he can be felt isn't noticed at all by the raven.

Xiang Zhao blinks at what Nathan says. "Facilitate communication?" Still in English. "It is good for me to practice in English." Nope. Not normal. Nothing so obvious as what the Siberian had shown thus far, though. A nod. "Mm. Spirits exist. Spirits are.."

And here, Xiang does finally switch back to Mandarin. Spirits are like the remnant of souls. That which is left after a body dies. They are not solid. Ghosts and demons are solid, usually creatures that have attained a sort of understanding to become human. Like Yan. Yan is one. Usually when I say ghost, I mean one that is neutral or good. Demon are those that kill indiscriminately. Evil." Interesting way of putting it, isn't it? "I think Chinatown has more of what I am used to, because those are the things the people there believe in. Belief, and fear, can bring things that otherwise would stay away."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian tilts his head slightly to one side at the offer made by the youth, his brow furrowing a touch as he considers it. And then he gives a small shake of his heed. "Am appreciating. Is very kind. Need to speak English. Still learning and is... broken," Vitali says, giving a small nod. His English is pretty broken, but it's a little bit better than what it used to be.

"Is depending what are meaning by 'normal'. Am normal, for family. Not normal, for others," he says, lifting one of his shoulders in a faint shrug. He'd made spears out of ice and made the fog move with him -- that's definitely not normal. "Da, spirits real, exist," he affirms.

Vitali turns his attention to Zhao, and then a smile turns at the corners of his lips, his dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. "Would like very much to go with you. Have tea, have food. Like your cooking," he says, giving a small nod. There is fondness in his voice. He's curious about the people Zhao would like to introduce him to, and he gives a nod to agree to that part of it as well.

He listens as Zhao speaks about ghosts and demons, and he gives a small nod. Different peoples have different beliefs. And belief can be a powerful thing. "Belief have power, da," he says softly. "Is making sense, for Chinatown to have things familiar with," Vitali agrees, his tone thoughtful.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister watches Vitali now, rather insistantly. But that can easily be ignored. Not normal for others but normal for his family -- eyes flicking to Zhao, he observes how this interaction plays out, all that is about him as calm and cool as a cucumber. Frankly, if something upsets a cucumber, things are very bad indeed, right? "As you wish," he murmurs, looking -through- Zhao to the hiding Yan. Observations are made there, without ever actually setting eyes on the mutate raven and eventually, he dusts his other sleeve of imaginary dust also.

"I suppose I should be on my way to safer areas. I don't suppose any of you fine folks would be willing to escort me?" Nobody noticed the telekinesis earlier, so as far as he's concerned, they think he's no more than a translator. "I'm not sure I feel terribly comfortable about the notion of something bound in the darkness, watching me. And what is -with- this fog?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
There are just some things that Xiang Zhao doesn't have the words for in English. Talk of ghosts and demons and spirits are concepts he has no words for in English. Thus, the swap to Mandarin for those, at the very least. He has to nod at Vitali's words of normal, though. "I am also normal for my family and Clan." He nods again, this time to Vitali. "I am glad you like how I cook." Really does make sense for Chinatown, yup. The people there, a lot of them, have similar beliefs. And that's a place Xiang had been going fairly frequently since he arrived here.

Yan finally comes out a little more. Still mostly keeping Xiang Zhao between himself and the other two.

As escort is sought, Xiang nods. "I will escort you, yes." He glances to the fog and considers it. "The fog appears to be the same as it ever is. It is always somewhat strange." Afterall, anything that sits like a body of water, lapping at higher land, can't possibly be natural. It's rather creepy.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian doesn't seem to mind that he's watched, and it doesn't seem to bother him at all. He is exactly as he'd said -- normal according to his family, but not really normal to others. It was perhaps a strange distinction for him to make, but it's how he sees himself. He tilts his head a touch to one side, looking towards the fog briefly, and then he shakes his head. "Fog not me. Before, little bit. Not now. Can try to push fog back, if is bothering," Vitali offers, his brow furrowing slightly. Fog is just smaller water droplets in the air.

His attention turns back to Nathan, though, at the request of escort, and he gives a small nod. "Can walk with, da.. mm... can escort, with Zhao," he says, a thoughtful tone to his voice.

He looks to Zhao, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "Have liked all things have made, so far. Are good cook," he says. Vitali hasn't been paying a lot of attention to Yan, perhaps to help him to feel more comfortable. He's not bothered by Yan, but he doesn't stare or anything of the sort.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister shakes his head a little. Bewilderment and wonder is how it might appear to others, but perhaps within, it is the trivial nature of interaction. Cooking, sampling of food, practicing your abysmally broken english. By God, it's a travesty and this from an athiest. Why would anyone butcher the mother of tongues, when there are other options? Nevermind, it is the nature of the human condition, when stark contrast holds you accountable between a candle and the abyss, so often it is the small trials of life that normalize what is extremely abnormal. He glances at Yan for a second look, then at the fog once again, looking contemptuously at water vapour.

"Thank you," because we must always be polite, no matter what we face. Without it we are uncivilized and that is not right. "Russian, but I ... think extreme remote? Siberia?" Mandarin is universal, but accents are not. "...Xinjiang province? Sorry, it is a foible, given my gift. I can still hear you, even if I can understand it all. I like to know."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The fog isn't Xiang Zhao either. Other than knowing it's behaving normally for this particular place.. and maybe where he's from since he doesn't seem to see anything unusual about it? At Vitali's compliment, though it's hard to tell in the dark, his ears turn a bit red. "Xiexie," he murmurs about being a good cook. "I am an okay cook." It's not true. He's a good cook. But it is what it is.

As he's glanced at again, Yan shrinks back behind Zhao again. Nope. No lookey! He's awfully timid for a raven.

There is a slow blink at the naming of Xinjiang province. "You are not far off," he replies. He hasn't changed back to English. Since he's being understood in Mandarin, it hasn't occured to him to change back. "Nyingchi prefecture." While it is Tibet, it is also technically China. "Sometimes, knowing is good. Other times, knowing is bad."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The butchery of the English language is not an intentional thing, on Vitali's part. He hasn't been speaking it for long! It's only been around a year that he's been learning and speaking it. He does his best, though. He has the best intentions where English is concerned, he just hasn't had a lot of opportunity to make good on those intentions yet.

Vitali turns his dark gaze to Nathan, and one of his eyebrows quirks up a touch before he gives a small nod. He slips the fingers of his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and it's at this point where he switches to Russian. "Yes, I'm Russian. I was born and raised there, so Russian is the language that I grew up with. My English is not very good, I'm sorry... I keep trying, I want to be better. The village is very remote, yes. There has not been power there since before I was born. In Siberia, in the northern parts of it, further north than the District of Oymyakon," he says softly. The Pole of Cold. He doesn't seem to mind confirming the information. It is his home, afterall. "To ask is not a thing that needs an apology."

For the moment, Vitali chooses to let Zhao away with being a self-admitted 'okay' cook. He knows better, since he's eaten the man's cooking. He looks to Zhao and gives a small nod. He tilts his head a touch to one side at where Zhao is from, though he's not familiar with it. He's not very good with geography of specific countries, either. And he gives a small nod, agreeing about knowledge. It can be good, and it can be bad, it all depends on the situation.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister slides both hands into the pockets of his sports jacket as he walks more or less between the tibetan and the siberian, ignoring whilst being utterly aware of the Raven in the Wings. He shrugs lightly though, a dismissal but a light one, of the nature of knowing. "Knowledge in itself is never bad. The good and the bad is all in the application of understanding, which we colour with emotion and experience. My opinion, which nobody has to agree with," at least not in this instance. He looks to Vitali though, tilting his head then away at the path out of the cemetary and where his feet are going to tread. "Interesting trivia from the knowledge camp: Siberia had its own language until about a hundred and fifty years ago, but it got ironed out sometime before the revolution, under the imperial flags. It used to be a bit more intuitive than it is now. Had a whole lot of mongolian, Inuktituk and colloquial cyrillic." About Xiang's prefecture, he comments not a word. Call a tibetan, chinese and there might be resentment. Humankind are fascinating, aren't they?
    "Hey, do you mind if I give you my card? I'd love to talk about where you two come from, it seems like it's very remote and is vastly different in norms than I'm accustomed to. I had no idea that there were such places where this..." he looks around, nodding at all that occured "...are kind of normal. I'd love to ask you more about it, for my schoolwork. If that's ok?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao is, at least, less butchery in English than the Siberian is. He's got a much better grasp of it. Except for contractions. Those he hasn't ever managed to get the hang of. They're not so much a thing in his language. It's mostly strange words and concepts that he isn't familiar with, or that he hasn't studied in English that gets him.

As Vitali changes languages, Xiang Zhao turns to look at him. The fan? The bloody fan stops waving! For the first time this evening that anyone has seen except when he sliced the demon with it. And even that could be considered movement. Afterall.. wave.. wave.. slice.. wave.. wave.... Now, stillness. The Chinaman is utterly still. "We have power," he says softly, as though his mind is mostly not on what he's saying, eyes still locked on Vitali. "But it does not work most of the time." The words definitely have that absent quality to them. He's still looking at Vitali. Staring at the Siberian. As he's hearing the man's native tongue, but understands it.

Xiang Zhao shakes his head and looks from Vitali to Nathan. The fan starts moving again, waving just as calmly as it had before it stopped. "Not quite what I meant," he says. "What I mean is.. sometimes knowing will give you nightmares." He starts walking when Nathan does, his steps still more on the silent side than not. Maybe that's just how he walks.

"But your point is also valid. Honestly, I would rather have nightmares than lack knowledge." Not that Zhao seems, from the utter calm that he exudes, to be the type to have nightmares. While he walks, his eyes never stop moving, never stop on any one place for more than half a second at a time. Watching for movement. And probably feeling for anything strange that might be coming their way.

As calm as he is, it's hard to say whether Xiang would be offended or amused. Judging from the fact that there had been nothing but smiles or neutrality thus far? He'd probably be amused at being called Chinese. Technically speaking, it's the truth, afterall. And he had grown up speaking Mandarin. "I do not mind having your card. However, you cannot call me. I have none of the devices most people use to talk to each other." You know. Just so that's out there. "Asking is okay, yes. This is typical for where I am from. Not within Xiang Clan itself, of course. It is warded and people are always on guard. But other places on the mountain and off it."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Knowledge can be powerful when it is held by the right people. But each person is their own self, each person needs to determine what power any knowledge will have to them. To some, they do not believe the knowledge that they are offered, and others do. There are many factors," Vitali says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He continues to speak in Russian, interestingly enough. There is something about being able to speak in one's native language and be understood without having to hunt for the right words.

There's a small nod, to the information offered about Siberia. "Yes. My grandparents have spoken of their grandparents, who spoke differently. There are very few people who can speak some words of the old language. The ways are the same, the language is not," Vitali says, his brow furrowing slightly. He tilts his head a touch to one side at the offer of the card, and then he lifts one of his shoulders in a faint shrug. "I have no reason to mind. Though I can only speak for myself on the matter," he says, inclining his head slightly towards Nathan.

Vitali turns his dark gaze to Zhao as he becomes aware of the fan no longer moving, and of the fact that Zhao is staring at him. That causes a bit of apprehension for him. Did he do something wrong in switching to Russian? He isn't sure, but he doesn't switch back to English. There's a flurry of colour that creeps to his cheeks. He can speak properly, with good grammar and with the proper flow of words, it's English that's the limiting factor! "There's something wrong with the power somewhere further south than the one pole that serves my village. There are a couple of generators, and they run on diesel fuel. The use of them is limited, though," he explains, lifting one of his shoulders in a small shrug. He ducks his chin slightly. "I try my best, with English. It's frustrating. I know the things that I want to say but having the words and being able to use them properly is where things seem to not go well," he adds, a bit sheepishly. He feels self conscious about his use of English, but it doesn't stop him from persevering, from trying.

"Knowing that the things are out there means being aware of them. It doesn't always mean believing in them, but... in some cases, it does. And when you believe in something, then whether it is a thing of light or dark, it might have power over you, it might prey on you or come to you, for good things or for bad ones, depending on the nature of the thing itself," Vitali says. And then he gives a small nod to Zhao. "Much like you, I would rather have nightmares than be unaware of what's out there," he comments, a little smile finding his features. His dark gaze turns to Nathan, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "You cannot call me, either. I don't have a telephone. Asking questions is okay, yes, but there may be some questions that may not be able to be answered," he adds, giving a small.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister pauses his steps a few dozen feet from the exit to the cemetary. Thoughts can be swift, or they can make the world fly by, when one is engrossed in them. And so it is in this case, that the physical has flitted by whilst the thoughts dive deep -- time flies when one is having fun, or engrossed, no? -- He pauses then, turning about so that he can look at both men with his back to the gate, smiling as if the simplicity of language facilitation has broken a wonderous barrier. Perhaps it has, given that he looks lingeringly on Zhao, before looking more significantly at Vitali. "I read about the legends and paranormal of siberia and northern russia. Kozhchei the deathless and the Zmeu, not to mention all the forest spirits and beings of ice and snow. Maybe you can shed light on a few of those -- " he pauses, taking two business cards out of his pocket and doing a spot of let's pretend with both men, holding each card up and closing his eyes fiercely. Both are then extended, in between fingers "-- if this works right, I should be able to find you if you concentrate on the cards. It works sometimes. Not all the time though, sort of... communications extended, but not guaranteed. I'm still learning," ahahahaha, yeah. But telepathy is marvellous for finding who happens to be thinking about you, it really is.

"I'd love to hear about your legends also, Zhao. You weren't phased at all by those creatures and your odd friend isn't exactly run of the mill either. Please. I'd be honoured... nay proud to learn from you both."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao is quite liking being able to speak his native language and be understood as well. Not knowing the words one wants sometimes.. well and truly sucks. He considers, about languages. "We speak two languages in my Clan. Mandarin and Tibetan. Very few people outside of the mountains understand Tibetan anymore. So primarily, Mandarin. Only the eldest of us use Tibetan regularly anymore."

He glances sidelong at Vitali, noting the color creeping up to his cheeks. His lips curl up ever so slightly, but he makes no comment. His eyes linger for a moment, however, something that might stand out given how his eyes hadn't stopped keeping watch around them much otherwise. And the fan continues waving. He nods once, about English. "Me too, with English." He nods about nightmares versus knowledge, too. "Mm." His eyes go back to roving, keeping a watch.

As the cards are extended, Xiang Zhao accepts the one extended to him, bringing his left hand forward from where it had been tucked. The card is glanced at, and he concentrates on it enough to look at it as much as he's able in the dimness of the light. Then it gets tucked into the front of his robes, probably a pocket or pouch there. And his hand goes back to resting at the small of his back.

As Yan is mentioned, Zhao's eyes turn to regard the raven for a moment, then ne nods. "Such creatures are things I have encountered many times in my life. Once we reach a certain level of understanding, the cultivators and martial artists of Xiang Clan go out into the world around the mountains where our home is and make sure those who cannot protect themselves are protected from such creatures. Then, again, when we reach another level of higher understanding, we go wandering to the wider world. I had not yet reached that level when I came here." And is, in fact, a number of years from that level at present, something that flashes through his mind for a moment, then is gone.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's a simple thing, to be understood in his native tongue. Yet it's a significant and large thing as well. It's a thing that Vitali isn't used to, here. When legends are mentioned, Vitali gives a small nod. "There are many creatures and spirits, both good and bad, which exist across the tundra," Vitali says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He tilts his head a touch to one side, and then he gives a small nod. "Perhaps I can provide some information, yes," he says, a smile touching at the corners of his lips. As the card is offered to him, he reaches out his right hand to accept it, studying it for a moment, and then he gives a nod as he slips the card away. "I'll bear that in mind. Thank you," he says. He's a touch curious but he doesn't ask after what makes the card work.

Vitali turns his gaze to Zhao as he speaks of languages, and he gives a small nod, but he doesn't comment further. Though he does notice the smile to Zhao's features, and that eases his apprehension and causes him to relax. "Your English is much better than mine, Zhao," he says, a smile quirking his lips. He moves a bit closer to Zhao, though not within the man's personal space.

He's quiet as Zhao speaks of different levels of understanding, as well as the creatures of his home. There's a small nod in response to the words, but it's a different way of things than what he's accustomed to. "It is a common thing, it seems. For those who have the ability and the knowledge, it falls upon them to protect those who don't have it," Vitali says, giving a small nod again.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister sets his teeth, a movement that makes his jaw lift and fall, but he doesn't make any comment about protection of those less fortunate. That's what the far more common variety of hero is for, after all. "I appear to be at my safe destination, gentlemen. I am afraid that my talents will leave you when I am out of sight, but hopefully... if we meet again, I might facilitate another great liberation of thought and understanding." He smiles and it's winsome, charming even, offering a rather olde worlde bow with it, complete with clicks of heels. Perhaps the young man is simply an old soul.
"Again, I must thank you both for intervening and preventing my inevitable skewering on the claws of demonic beings," aaah, heros are so heroic. Bless them. "I bid you good night and -do- hope to have the chance to speak with you both again."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
While Vitali is talking about his homeland, though Xiang Zhao's eyes don't stop roaming, there may be a sense that he's listening intently. It sounds a great deal like his own home. His dark eyes flick briefly to the Russian when English is mentioned again. "Mm. Only because I have had more practice. It is a language we learn from a young age. I just.. have not used it since then."

As the Siberian moves closer to him, Yan scoots further toward the side of Xiang that is further from Vitali. Yep. Still hiding from both the other men here. And using Xiang Zhao to do it! Silly raven. Zhao actually glances to Yan now. "Tali'gege will not harm you, Yan. You are safe with him. You have my word." The raven relaxes visibly at those words and moves further behind Zhao, hiding more from poor Nathan and no longer worrying about Vitali. Zhao can't make the same guarantee with Nathan. He doesn't know the man, afterall.

"Mm. It is our duty, to protect those who cannot." His attention turns to Nathan, and he brings his left hand from behind his back as he closes the fan with a snarp snick and a whisper of silk on silk. He brings his hands together, cupped around the fan with the handle pointed up and the fanning portion of the fan pointed downward. He bows to Nathan, then straightens after. "Fate will tell, one way or the other," he offers. Xiang's left hand retreats behind his back. His right flips the fan back open. It goes back to its waving. "Have a good evening." His eyes go to Vitali now. "Would you care for a meal?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a brief glance given towards the cemetery, the place they'd left being studied for a moment. Yet Vitali brings his dark gaze to Nathan once more, and he gives a small nod. "Yes, it would seem you have been brought to a safer place," he says in a thoughtful tone. When it's mentioned that the ease of communication will end as well, Vitali isn't surprised and yet... he does wish that it could continue. It's made understanding and being understood so mucheasier. But it might also make him a bit more stubborn about his current level of English understanding.

"You're welcome, and a good night to you as well. If fate is willing then we will speak again," he says, a smile touching at the corners of his lips as he inclines his head towards Nathan. His gaze turns to Zhao, and he gives a nod to him. "I will need to practice more, to have a better understanding," he adds, his smile easily returning.

He looks to Yan and gives a samll nod at Zhao's words. He has no ill intent towards Yan at all. "He speaks truly. There is no harm that I would bring to you," he says, giving a small nod once again. Vitali turns his attention to Zhao, watching him as the fan is closed and he offers that bow. And at the question, there's a warm smile that comes to his features as he gives a nod. "I'd like that very much, Zhao-gege. To share a meal is to share life, and I always enjoy doing so with you," he says softly. To wherever Zhao would wish to take him, Vitali will willingly go.