13889/Where the Strangeness Lurks

Where the Strangeness Lurks
Date of Scene:	15 October 2021
Location:	Two Bridges (Chinatown), Manhattan
Synopsis:	Henry McCoy comes across Vitali, who is acting rather unlike himself. Shannon runs into the pair of them and the three have a chat.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Beast, Nightingale

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The day had started almost ominously, with dark clouds and drizzling skies to dampen the mood of many. Yet the weather had shifted sometime around noon, the darkest clouds seeming to move on other parts of the city and the drizzle easing off to a mistiness that lingers in the air. The weather has done naught to stop the vendors from being present along both sides of the street and at least doing their best to make a living from their wares. There are delightful aromas in the air, from the sticky sweet smell of melted sugar being used to candy fruits at one of the vendors to the savoury aromas of the steamed buns just being taken out of the steamers at another of the vendors. There are a few people on the street, most of them seeming to be on their way either to or from somewhere but some of them stop for making purchases.

A stone's throw away from the vendors, Vitali kneels upon a dry spot of grass beneath a tree that's dressed in its autumn colours. He wears his typical steel-toed boots, though it's beyond this where normal seems to take a deviation. The outfit he wears is different -- a pair of loose black pants and a dark green tunic. The tunic has long sleeves with wide black cuffs, a Mandarin style collar, black frog closures to hold it fastened at the front, and slits at either side. He is cleanly shaven, and his long black hair has been tamed into a braid that is woven into a knot of sorts at the back of his head, held in place with a pair of ebon sticks at an angle to one another. A paper bag sits on the grass next to him, a steamed bun sitting atop the neatly flattened surface of it. There is a steamed bun held in hand which is being eaten, and the people who pass near seem to be watched. Weighed, almost, or evaluated.

Beast has posed:
Jogging. THat's what brought Beast in this direction, trusting his instinct on the weather more than the weather stations. It all worked out splendidly for not bumping into a bunch of individuals at any rate. But he accomplished that a while back and now pops out of the Peking Duck house with an aromatic crispy duck entourage, with pancakes and spring vegetables -- finding a parking spot to devour it is what brings him close to Vitali and his tree, only:

"Good day Vitali," smiling as he settles, he doesn't actually notice at first that it's not exactly normal town over there, mostly because he never jogs with his glasses on. Recipe to getting all steamed up and possibly losing them to the fates of the elements. Only now, putting them on, does he frown a bit and doublt take. "Oh, sorry." No. Wait. Sniffing, he blinks. "I was correct the first time, Grosvadanya Tovarisch."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
A middle-aged man is followed by his dark-eyed gaze for a lingering moment, and then Vitali exhales a breath. A bite of the steamed bun is taken, chewed and swallowed. He shifts his position, minutely, his posture becoming a touch straighter. There is a slight narrowing of his dark eyes, perhaps introspectively. "Zhege hui xuanze," he murmurs, the words quite quiet. Spoken as one who is native to Mandarin, the words meaning: 'This one will choose'. There is a silvery-blue flicker that chases briefly through his eyes, and then his gaze lifts to the one who has approached, who had come near during a moment of ill attention being paid to his surroundings.

He tilts his head a touch to one side at the initial greeting, his dark gaze unblinkingly held upon such an unusual figure. "This one does not have this name you speak," he says softly, one of his eyebrows quirking up slightly. The words in Russian bring about a silvery-blue flicker to return to his eyes in the moment before he closes them, an even breath being drawn in and then exhaled. There is a small shift of his position, and the fingers of one of his hands close slowly. Maintaining some sort of inner balance or control, perhaps? It's hard to say for certain, yet his eyes open once more to regard Henry.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's nostrils flare a trace picking up the extra notes that should not be there. Vitali wouldn't take drugs, would he? Well, maybe things of a shamanic bent, but he doesn't seem like the type to regularly indulge. Magnolia? Opium? What the actual flibble? Henry gazes, his brows bettling together, setting his bag o' duck down and leaning left a little, then right, as if somehow the minor perception field change might elicit an answer or two. "Erm..." he's at a loss for words, who would have thought that would happen. He looks along the street of people going about their business, hawking wares, selling food, china town a'bustle... and back to Vitali. In russian, he offers "~Do you actually recognize me, I wonder?~" and leans forth juuuuuust a smidge.

He tries once again, "ERm." Again, because it worked so well the last time and he looks closely at the attire, the hair. THen the man again. "..."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Indeed, the Siberian isn't known to take any manner of drugs at all. Willow bark is what he would habitually use if he were in any manner of pain or physical discomfort,for his knowledge and training are of that particular slant. Nothing of any harsher origin or effect has ever been scented upon him before. There is a very brief glance that is cast towards the bag of duck when it is set down, but his dark gaze returns readily back to Henry. Never before has he been heard to speak in fluent Mandarin, either, for he knows only a word here and there of the language.

To add to the strangeness, there has been no sign of the man's typical Russian accent nor his habitually broken English, either. That flicker of silvery-blue returns to his dark eyes when the Russian is once more spoken, and his lips press together. There is a slight narrowing of his eyes and a breath that's held for a moment before being exhaled. "Stop that," he says in an irritated tone. There's a definite sense that the words are meant for not just Henry's ears but someone else's as well. He gives a brief shake of his head as though settling himself, and then he raises an eyebrow slightly as his gaze turns to Henry. "Heng Zhihao does not understand this tongue," Vitali says. He unfurls his fingers, then lightly brushes them over his knee as though sweeping away a fleck of lint that doesn't exist. How odd, indeed.

Beast has posed:
Something in all of this clicks, though the scientist looks on in wonderment for a few. "Oh, wow..." Beast eases back again, into the shade of the autumnal tree. "Heng Zhihao, eh? Well, how did you come to be in New York City, Heng Zhihao? And how did you come to be having to quietly have arguments with the horse you're riding?" -- other possibilities do crop up in Beast's mind, but he'd rather think the best right now, than think the worst. He has after all, fought hungry ghosts in china town with this man and another.

Switching to mandarin, he smiles. "You likely do not recognize me, but a little bit of you does. The bit that knows my name, that is. You seem peaceful though. Are you waiting for something, or looking for something? It's usually one or the other."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
A stone's throw away from the street vendors is where Vitali happens to be, kneeling upon a patch of dry ground. This morning had been rainy and dismal, where weather is concerned, but it had cleared for this afternoon. Henry is near to him, with a bag of Peking duck with pancakes and spring vegetables. There is a tree near to the pair of them and it is bedecked in autumn colours. One of his eyebrows quirks up at the reaction that his words earn, staring in a steadfast manner at Henry. And there's a small nod, to the first question. "Yes. This one is Heng Zhihao," Vitali says softly, and there's a faint incline of his head towards the scientist. He moves a hand to claim the lone steamed bun that sits upon the paper bag next to him, shifting it about between his fingers a bit before taking a small bite that gets chewed and swallowed. "Heng Zhihao travelled by ship," he says. Whether or not that's true, it's hard to know, for the details are thin at this point.

"This one does not argue with him. This one ensures obedience," he says, giving a small nod at that. There is a flicker of curiosity and interest when Mandarin is selected as the language to speak, and a hint of a smile to curl at the corners of his lips. And he, fluently, switches to Mandarin as well. "Heng Zhihao knows that your name is Henry McCoy," he says, inclining his head slightly towards him. It may have been a fight, of sorts, to earn that much. "There can be other reasons," he adds. And yet, he speaks of none of them.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy pushes his glasses up his nose, so that they're very flush with his slitted eyes. His face betrays very little, instead putting both his hands on his knees and bowing forward a little - not a kowtow, but respectful. Once again in mandarin, he speaks "...may this one ask when you came over on the ship? They do not come to the americas often any more, at least not within the law. Many come outside of it." He knows that for a truth also, nodding faintly. "The horse is a friend of mine, but he does have a knack for getting himself in more trouble than he has any right to do. Was he wide open when you came to him, may I ask?"

When you have friends who occasionally change reality, have worked beside sorcerors and fairies, the occasional possession on the part of a spirit is not the easiest thing to wrap the head around, but it's hardly the worst. "Also, would you care to share aromatic crispy duck and pancakes?"

Nightingale has posed:
     It would seem that Peking duck and pancakes wasn't the only delicacy on the menu. Amongst the many street food vendors that lined the byways and alleys of Chinatown, there were more than one that sold wide varieties of jiaozi--tasty fried dumplings with all manner of vegetable or meat fillings, and soy vinegar sauce for dipping. Once again, a certain winged student was thinking with her stomach, heeding her craving for some actual, honest-to-god Chinese food.

     What could be more true to form than fare from street vendors?

     Coming away from one cart with a small paper dish of some spicy vegetable jiaozi, Shannon lets her wings ruffle and settle at her back in a show of delight that might be akin to a cat purring, as she pokes at the contents of the little paper dish. She's dressed in some simple dark blue jeans, a cream-colored turtleneck, and some stout but soft black boots. Her brows loft as she sees a familiar, furry blue mentor, and Heng Zhihao-in-Vitali-skin. One dumpling is raised in salute before she takes a nibble, shifting course to join the pair. "Dr. McCoy... and... Heng Zhihao, isn't it?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The steamed bun is shifted slightly in his hand, and then he moves it to set it aside on the paper bag when that slight bow is offered. In a graceful movement, he rises to his feet, lifts his left hand so that the back of it is against the palm of his right hand, and then he bows. The gesture is fluid and smooth, respectful without being too deeply so. When the gesture is finished, he lowers his hands to his sides before settling to the grass once more, and there's a faint shift of his right shoulder as he settles. When he speaks, it is once more in Mandarin. "This one knows it was many years ago. It was the only means. Time is... hazy," he says, seeming to settle on that particular term. The steamed bun is retrieved from where it sits upon the paper bag, and he takes a small bite of it to eat. He tilts his head a touch to one side when Henry speaks of Vitali's body, and then he gives a small nod. "This one suspected this body was known," he comments. Henry had used Vitali's name, after all. "Trouble finds many, sometimes," he muses, sounding faintly amused. He gives a faint shake of his head at part of the words, though. "This one did not come to him. His spirit has not been displaced," he adds. Dislodged from the driver's seat and forced to be a passenger, yes, but not punted out entirely. Which was not for a lack of trying.

There is a glance towards the bag with the duck and pancakes, and he blinks once before giving a small shake of his head. "This one appreciates the offer and is grateful for it but this one does not prefer meat," he says.

The soft sound of the feathers ruffling draws Vitali's dark gaze to turn towards the winged woman, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. There is a flicker of silvery-blue that rises into his eyes, though it vanishes after a brief moment. There's something about that sound that tickles at familiarity, but Heng Zhihao is at a loss for specifically pinning it down. The Siberian fights for every bit of knowledge that he can keep safe, and Soraya is someone he intends to keep as safe as what he can. Vitali inclines his head towards Shannon at her approach. "Mm, that is so," he says softly.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's gaze settles on the hands at the bow, looking up at his friend and the struggle he seems to be having, despite the calm occupant of his headspace. He smiles, mouth closed and at the familiar sound of ruffling feathers and footfalls that are equally so, he turns slightly to the afternoon light being obscured by Shannon. "Ahh, miss Shannon," this in English, not Mandarin. "I see you are aquainted with this young woman," he nods in reference to Vitali's current occupant. "If I might ask... how did that come to be?" He does not offer any food again, instead essentially ignoring Vitali's steamed bun and aknowledging his presence only in his words as he proceeds to dress his pancakes with the shredded vegetables and aromatic shredded meat, rolling them into little duck-filled cigars.

He glances to Vitali, up at the tree, narrows his eyes and looks back with a smile again. "I think you may have come during the making of the iron road."

Nightingale has posed:
     For once, Shannon kept her mouth wisely closed, save to nibble on the tasty, spicy vegetable dumplings that were her afternoon fare of choice. There were times to play one's cards close to the chest, and this was one of them! Smiling, she offers her little paper dish to Dr. McCoy and Heng Zhihao. "These vegetable dumplings are fantastic... would either of you like to try one?" Oh, yes. The sharing of edible goodies could make a wonderful distraction, indeed, oh yes it could!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is a struggle within, even though it isn't always a visible one. It's a sort of tug of war that's been going on for a number of days, by this point in time. There have, no doubt, been some challenges for both of the spiritual selves that find themselves occupying this particular body. There is a hint of surprise that shows in his dark eyes when Heng Zhihao is referred to correctly as a woman, and a small smile that turns up the corners of his lips. He looks towards Shannon for a moment, then returns his gaze to Henry, studying each of them briefly in turn. "Heng Zhihao had opportunity. This one claimed this body," he says, giving a small nod.

"This one does not know. This one did not see an iron road. Time is strange. There was darkness," Vitali says, his brow furrowing slightly. He gives his head a brief shake and then he eats another small bite of the steamed bun. "This one claimed a child on the ship. Heng Zhihao did not know the child was ill and the child died. There was darkness again," he explains in a soft tone, and then he lifts one of his shoulders in a small shrug. That might create more questions than what it answers. He looks to Shannon, and tilts his head slightly to one side. "They are vegetable only?" he asks. It might have happened that Heng Zhihao has ended up having to endure eating meat on account of the body's original resident still present.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's very blue eyes settle on Shannon when she helpfully keeps schtum. He wrinkles his nose slightly, maybe making a mental note. "I wonder if you came from the south Sina seas, once upon a time. It would make sense, because they claim at night and travel that way. Hmm. Well enough, anyway..." he tucks in on his duck rolls now, quite content to munch and politely refuse with a wave of the hand to the offer made for vegetable spicy dumplings. "Sensitive stomach at the moment, miss Shannon. If I don't satisfy it, I'm going to be quite uncomfortable later on." He waggles a hand, the claws extending with it, ending with a mild sigh. "Fighting one's nature is a difficult endeavor at the best of times, I really don't fancy having to indulge more, if you know what I mean. It can end up being intolerable."

He looks at the young woman in a man's body once again, fixing attention on his forehead a few moments. Gears are whirring, but he's mulling over a great deal by the looks of things.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods to Heng-in-Vitali-skin, smiling lightly and holding one of the whole dumplings on her extended palm. "They are, but they're very spicy. Still," she continues, tilting her head to one side in a curious sort of gesture. "Seeking out different bodies? It almost sounds as if you're searching for something... or someone." Once again, there is that little ruffling and flick of her wings, and she nods towards Dr. McCoy, with a smile of understanding.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"This one did not say it was night. This one said only that it was dark," Vitali says softly, offering up only that clarification and almost seeming pleased. This is said without looking to either of them, his gaze instead upon the steamed bun in the moment before he takes a bite of it. Vitali himself would rather be eating a meat version but it is instead a vegetarian one. He tilts his head a bit to one side and lifts his gaze to Henry when the sensitive stomach is mentioned, turned quiet and thoughtful in the moment. The last of the steamed bun is eaten, and then he lightly brushes his fingers off. "Shan Zha and Chen Pi would help," he says softly. The first of which is hawthorn berry and the second of which is orange or tangerine peel -- traditional Chinese medicine options for the stomach.

His attention turns to Shannon, and one of his eyebrows quirks up slightly. "This one likes this body. It is a useful physical self and it can do things that others cannot," Vitali says, giving a small nod. This body has magic, and what's not to like about that? Lifting his right hand, he deftly plucks the paired sticks from his hair, and there is the faintest whisper of a hitch in the movement. His braid tumbles free of the knot, falling to rest the length of his back, and he neatly holds the sticks in chopstick fashion before plucking the dumpling being offered, securing it with ease. "Xiexie ni," he says, inclining his head slightly towards her, a smile turning the corners of his lips. "This one will find what it seeks," he says, giving a small nod. Then he takes a bite of the dumpling.

Beast has posed:
"Were it that my stomach could be settled by medicine, I am sure that that would be true. I'm afraid that I do not like the fact that a good deal of me is carnivorous. Occasionally, I have to satisfy what my body is craving, or it will enact civil disobedience on me and make me crave worse things than an aromatic duck." Beast says in a mild tone, dipping one of his rolls in some hoisin sauce. His eyes play a bit of visual ping-pong between Shannon and the otherwise 'occupied' Vitali, observing.

"How long have you been looking this time?" he asks casually of the occupier. He looks out over china town, making other observations to catalogue in his mental notebook. "Huh. That makes a bit more sense now that I think about it. Couldn't see the wood for staring at the tree, Hank."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon's brows furrow lightly, noting the hitch in Heng-Tali's movement. "Have you been hurt?" she asks, her tone filled with concern for the moment. Just what sort of struggles had Vitali undergone? What had his physical form been put through, and what was his spirit going through now? She nibbles another of the dumplings, a thoughtful expression on her face, concern warring with worry and even a healthy dose of caution in her eyes. "And what is it you seek?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
For a long moment, Henry is studied as Vitali looks him over and perhaps gives greater consideration to the physical appearance that the fellow has. Then he wrinkles his nose briefly before giving a small shake of his head. "This one may recently have come to understand what that is like," he says softly. Vitali is carnivorous, and that is a thing that Heng Zhihao has sought not to indulge. Sometimes successfully and sometimes failing miserably. He eats the rest of the dumpling, then neatly slips the hairsticks so that they are side by each within his hand. There is a faint murmur of sound that slips past his lips and, a slight movement of his thumb along a part of the hairsticks, and water slithers along their length to clean them.

He looks to Henry and then lifts his left shoulder in a faint shrug. "This one often looks. Watches. This one has had this body for roughly a fortnight," Vitali says in a thoughtful tone. He blinks twice and tilts his head a bit to one side, then gives his head a little bit of a shake. "What tree?" he asks. His attention turns to Shannon, studying her after her question on his injury. "This one's predicament is not grave. It heals," he says, seeming to be making light of the injury. "This one seeks what this one always seeks. You will know it when the time is ripe for it to be known." There's something perhaps a bit ominous in that choice of words.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy presses his lips together, a thinness to them. "It's a metaphor. Probably doesn't translate very well," he replies with a dismissive backhand flick of the air. A fly! Shoo-shoo Fly. He shifts where he sits, getting himself into the lotus position with ease, which really shouldn't be quite so easy given his largely square frame. But he's flexible, is Beast. He looks at Shannon closely for a while, then Vitali and his shoulder. "That body has had quite a number of injuries, he heals in time, but every time he gets them, it'll never be quite right again without some effort. I -am- a doctor. Actually, I'm several doctors, but one of them is a physician and clinician. Let me see it, please."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods her head in agreement with Dr. McCoy, offering what she hopes is a reassuring smile to Heng-Tali. "It's very easy to dismiss an old injury," she says. "But not very wise. Dr. McCoy is really quite good, both as a doctor, a mentor, and a friend. Please, let him help?" There is a slight emphasis on the title of 'mentor', which brings a smile to her own face. Mentally, she crossed her fingers, hoping that in some way, she's reaching Vitali-within-Heng. It was a bit of a gamble, but if it gave Vitali the strength to keep fighting....

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Many such turns of phrase do not seem to translate well," Vitali says, a smile touching at the corners of his lips. His gaze has turned to Henry, and he tilts his head to one side as he studies him. "The limits of the flesh are a trial. Necessary, yet a trial all the same," he says softly. There is a bit of reluctance that is within him, a wariness that would not normally be were Vitali himself. There's a silvery-blue flicker that rises into his dark eyes, yet his gaze holds to the physician. Perhaps there is some manner of bargaining within, it's difficult to guess. After a lingering moment, he gives a small nod to Henry. "Very well," he says softly, inclining his head slightly towards Henry. "This one will allow it," he adds.

His gaze turns to Shannon, listening to her offered words as well, and he inclines his head towards her. His attention holds to her a lingering moment, and then he closes his eyes. He lifts his hands to the frog closures in order to undo them with a practiced sort of ease. Once they're undone, he lifts his left hand to slip his fingers between the cloth and his skin, letting them rest there for a moment. "Da," he whispers quietly. It is the faintest sign of Vitali's self, there. He opens his eyes, then faintly shifts his shoulder as he eases the fabric past it, and he withdraws his arm from the sleeve so that the full of his arm is free. Should one be watching for such a thing, there is a flicker of pain that chases through his dark eyes. Upon his flesh, there is bruising, and it is perhaps impressive even if only in the colouration of it. A few days old, perhaps. The bruises creep up his right upper arm from halfway along it up to his shoulder and across the front of his shoulder as well. And not only is the bruising revealed, but there is also a tattoo on his right upper arm, a natively stylized polar bear that has been fashioned to appear as a bear's paw print, complete with long claws. He sits quietly, and he sits still. Waiting.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's glasses slide down his nose a bit, at the sharp turn of head to look at Shannon as she speaks. The little flutter of a smile ends up with him blinking a couple of times, looking vaguely flattered, before he clears his throat, pushes the glasses up his nose again and looks at the injury as it's revealed -- Sharp eyes don't miss much though. The flicker of silver and that one word of russian; Hank's ears pin back oh-so-faintly then he rolls himself out of the lotus position, crouching as he simply looks at the injured shoulder for several moments. He then reaches for the hand attached to that injured arm. "Range of motion. I'm going to test it, for extent of trauma... it is easy to trivialize the limitations of flesh, when one does not have to endure it. Patience, as they say, is a virtue. That one was a little cheap in that shot..." a mild reprimand, but he's quite good at subtleties of tone, is the man of many words. He'll put the arm through supported paces, seeing how involved the joint itself is in the traumas it experienced, how much the swelling has reduced flexibility.

    "Shannon, have you been practicing?" he asks. "Because...." he moves the arm to a gentle but purposesful abduction and external rotation, which is bound to get more than just a wince. "...the ligaments are torn here. This arm will not be fully functional for months, not days, with the recovery time of that kind of trauma. It could do with just a little... nudge in the right direction."

And then he mutters in russian "~You have known this spirit for a long while, I feel. You've been drawn to all things of this culture, from Xiang to the feel of this township for as long as I've known you... she'd had influence over you more than you've cared to say to anyone, or perhaps even consciously aknowledged. Vitali, of the Siberakh, you are the shaman, not the pawn. Water is deep, it is persistent and it can wear down a mountain, flatten the earth and carve it into new forms. Water is your way out... be water. Be slippery. I do not like the notion that you are being ridden with purpose, by one that would possess a child, to her own ends. The dead deserve to be heard. They do not deserve to ride the living like they are pack animals. /Be/ water.~"

Nightingale has posed:
     It's a good thing that Shannon had chosen to fuel up on those fantastic vegetable dumplings, because she just nods once. "I have," she confirms. Her own brows flick upwards at the single word of Russian, the young woman pressing her lips together in a thin line for the briefest of moments. Whatever struggles Vitali was enduring, he was still in there, strong enough to speak out--even if it was only one syllable. For her own part, she looks at Vitali, murmuring a few words of the language herself. "~Stay strong and be water.~"

     She takes a wipe from her little brown leather bag, which was perpetually at her side, making sure her hands were clean after her light repast of dumplings, disposing of the lemony-scented tissue afterwards. "Just let me know when, Dr. McCoy. Ready when you are."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It was but a single word, that one which fell from him in Russian. Barely a syllable, barely a sound. But it was Vitali. And for that briefest of moments, he had been in control of himself. As Henry approaches to be able to examine his shoulder, Vitali remains as he is -- quiet and still. His dark gaze follows Henry's movement, and he gives a small nod at the explanation of what will be done. "This one understands," Vitali says softly. He studies Henry for a moment, and then he looks away, seeming to be looking towards the vendor with the candy coated fruit. There are minute signs of discomfort, signs of pain whilst the range of motion is tested. A slight narrowing of the eyes, the faintest wince or twitch. "This one should pay more attention to such limitations, especially if this one wishes to keep this body," he says quietly. "This one has patience, sometimes not enough," he adds, looking down for a moment before his gaze lifts once more. He is quiet for a moment, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. The swelling has caused some reduction in the flexibility of the joint.

When Shannon is addressed, Vitali turns his dark gaze to her, studying her. "Practicing...?" he asks softly. This is something that Heng Zhihao has no idea about. There's a hiss of a breath taken in, a wince and a pained sound, and Vitali turns his head to give a look to Henry. Ow! One of his eyebrows arches at the proclamation about the extent of the injury as well as the timeframe for its healing, and there are a few choice curses muttered in Mandarin in a dark sort of tone. When the Russian starts to be spoken, there's a puzzled expression that creeps across his features, and that silvery-blue hint rises to his dark eyes. Vitali is listening to that, and understanding it as well.

The mention of Xiang brings that silvery-blue flicker in his eyes to be momentarily brighter. And that flicker lingers at least in these moments, much like a candle's flame. Recognition, but something more... a sense of protection, perhaps. His breathing is slow, steady and even. And the words are right, accurate and true. Vitali is a shaman, and he has a duty, even to this spirit that occupies his earthly form and seeks to keep his own spirit trapped. Be the voice of the dead, the Voice of the Spirit. He can only try -- he can only keep trying. Be water. There is strength in water, force and power, and a ferocity that he has witnessed in the storms of his homeland. He will gather his strength and he will be persistent. There is the faintest of nods to Henry, and his gaze turns to Shannon when she speaks in his native language as well, a small smile offered to her, and then that silvery-blue fades from his eyes.

"This one is prepared. This one does not know what you intend but understands it is for the benefit of this physical self," Vitali says softly. Perhaps she allowed him to surface or perhaps it was a struggle for each precious moment. Either way, it would seem that she has returned to the helm once again.

Beast has posed:
And thus does Hank nod, removing his hands gently but indicating with a kind of 'aura guidance' movement around the ligaments of the shoulder joint where it was wrenched. "You need to focus here, imagine a deep tissue massage only with joint lidocaine injections as being the focus of your attention. You want to encourage this..." he lifts his own arm and abducts it to the full range of its movement "...as being what you see infront of you. Heng Zhihao, you should when she is working, lift your arm in the rotations that hurt the most, but slowly and gently. I cannot touch at this time, it would be interfering with Shannon's gift and might result in a wierdness. You should with her help, feel the joint easing a little." He pulls back then, just as his pager bleeps like a mad and angry sheep. It's pulled from his pocket, stared at and he grimaces. "Of -course- now is the most opportune time ever..." but he said words and they seemed to have sunk in. Looking at the sino-russian hybrid affair that's going on, he nods to her, bows in the correct manner and looks to SHannon. "I have to run... quite literally. Focus. Do not let yourself sink all the way in."

And that said, he gathers up his trash which isn't much and is biodegradable at least and runs off across the park. In the distance, sirens can be heard. Being a part time Avenger is occasionally inopportune.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Give my best to the team," Shannon calls out after Dr. McCoy, smiling wryly. It was unlikely she would ever know such a call to duty, as much as she might long to answer it. That longing flashed for the briefest of moments in her pale azure eyes, before she turns towards Heng-tali. Her motions are slow and practiced, watching for any sign of the spirit within her friend spooking, or trying to pull away. "This shouldn't hurt you," she murmurs softly. "It'll feel a little warm, as if you were wrapped up in a warm blanket on a chilly morning. Just keep your movements slow, so I can follow the areas that need the most healing."

     Unless Heng-tali changes their mind, she rests her hands lightly upon the injured shoulder, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. This, too, might seem familiar to Vitali from the first time above the Chinese restaurant, when she had finally begun to gain greater control of her gifts. She was far less hesitant, more certain of herself, as she made the connection with the physical form of her friend, reaching out with her gifts to gently 'massage' the damaged tissue back to health.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
When his shoulder is released, Vitali eases back a little bit, relaxing minutely. There is yet a wariness, even with whatever it is that the Siberian had chosen to say to her in order to reason with her. He raises an eyebrow slightly, looking to Henry at the advice given for during the healing, and then he gives a small nod. "This one will do as you say," he says softly. The shoulder hurts more now than what it had before it was pushed through such a range of movements, even though nothing was beyond the normal. There is a moment in which Vitali is quiet, and then he gives a nod to Henry. "Xiexie ni, Doctor McCoy. This one appreciates your skills," he says softly.

When the pager goes off, Vitali startles and scoots a little bit aside, eyeing the device with some measure of unfamiliarity. What is this vile bleating thing? Yet the others seem acceptant of it, which causes a certain amount of ease in and of itself, and he glances from one to the other of them. Then he gives a nod to Henry and watches the Doctor rush off to elsewhere.

Vitali turns his dark gaze to Shannon then, and he doesn't pull away at all or seek to prevent her from helping. He tilts his head a little bit to one side at her words, and then he gives a small nod. He draws in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "It has been many moons since this one has sat in the chill of a fall morning and had the comfort and warmth of a blanket to be wrapped in," he says softly. "This one will move slowly. This one will let you do as must be done to keep this physical self well," he comments, giving a small nod to her. His left hand rests upon one of his thighs. His eyes show a hint of silvery-blue, and then he closes his eyes. And he keeps them closed, at least for the next little while, lifting his arm as Henry had recommended for him to do in order to assist with the healing. Heng Zhihao can only trust that what will be done will make it feel better, for Vitali has given her very little in the way of knowledge to go along with the reassurances he'd offered.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon keeps her touch light, her breath even, and her focus upon Heng-Tali's wounds, intent, her hands following the slow motions of his shoulder. Bit by bit, a warmth seems to suffuse the bruised and battered limb, with some of the bruising beginning to fade. But, even more so, the pain begins to subside, and each motion flow a bit more easily to the next. It is as if what should take months of healing, is being reduced to hours or days. "What happened to cause this injury?" Shannon asked, her voice bearing a dream-like quality as the majority of her focus remains inward.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The lightness of the touch is appreciated, even though it isn't mentioned by him. Such a gentle touch causes him less pain from the bruise that his shoulder is graced with. Vitali is mindful to move his arm slowly in the process of her healing, to give her the best vantage for her healing. He is quiet through the first part of it, and his eyes remain closed, his body relaxing a touch as the pain begins to ease from him. It is only when she asks her question that he slowly opens his eyes. "Mm," he murmurs softly, his dark gaze turning towards her. "This one was in a fight," he says softly. He falls quiet then for a long moment, and he lifts his left shoulder in a bit of a shrug. "Unexpected things happen sometimes. It would have been well, had he not interfered," he adds in a quieter tone.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Had who not interfered?" Shannon asks, her voice still bearing that faraway quality. As the minutes wore on, and she simply encouraged Nature to take its course, the bruising began to fade further and further, turning from ugly black with yellow edges, to livid purple and red, and then to lighter, but still fairly sinister-looking tones. Her wings have begun to flare out behind her, lending an angelic appearance as she works her healing gifts upon Heng-tali. It seemed to come to her much more easily than in previous attempts that perhaps Vitali might have witnessed, lending credence to her claims of practice since the initial assessment above the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Chinatown.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is a small smile that touches at the corners of his lips, and he looks off towards the candied fruit vendor once again. "Mm," he murmurs, his gaze lingering in that direction. Perhaps the fruit is some manner of treat for Heng Zhihao that it keeps earning her attention, though if it is then it is something that is not mentioned. "Your friend. The body that you care about," he says softly, a breath of amusement to his voice. Vitali had interfered. It had been a bad moment for it, but it had happened. If Vitali himself notices the difference in Shannon's healing, there is no sign of it. He remains kneeling upon the ground, waiting patiently whilst she tends to him. His gaze turns to her, taking in the sight of her wings behind her. "Xiexie ni. This one apreciates what you are willing to do," he says softly, inclining his head towards her.

Nightingale has posed:
     Despite the ease with which most of the healing was done, Shannon was soon to come up against her limit. Oh, the bruising began to fade still further upon Heng-tali, alright. But this time, it was accompanied by a visible wince, and a soft hissing hitch in her breath. In that exact moment, she straightened out her fingers, and lifted her hands -away- from Vitali's arm, leaning backwards. "I've done what I can for now," she murmurs. "Try moving your arm a little bit. Slowly. How does it feel?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Though the healing that Shannon works upon him seems an easy thing, magic is not always so. This is something that both Vitali and Heng Zhihao are aware of, thanks to the magic that Vitali has the use of. His dark gaze turns towards his shoulder for a moment, studying what remains of the bruising. It is a significant improvement from what it was. The telltale hiss that accompanies the breath causes him to lift his attention to her instead, and he tilts his head a touch to one side as she draws her hands away from him. And he half bows to her, the gesture smooth and graceful. "Xiexie ni. It is very kind of you, what you have done," Vitali says softly. Slowly, and a touch carefully, he eases his arm through the range of movement, his brow starting out furrowed but ending more eased. He gives a small nod, once he finishes the range of motion. "This one finds it much improved. This one is grateful," he says softly, a whisper of a smile finding the corners of his lips.

Nightingale has posed:
     Nodding, Shannon smiles lightly, moving her own arm through the same range of motions to ascertain just how much of the injury she wound up taking on before being able to break the connection. Her motions, too, are slow and careful, but she completes the full range without any real difficulty. "You're welcome. Looks like I'll just have a minor bit of the bruising, but that's about all. Please take it easy with your arm for a few more days, and let Nature do the rest?"

     She's not blind to those occasional stray glances over towards the candied fruit vendor, finding herself unable to suppress a wide grin. Without so much as another word, she pushes herself to her feet, making her way over to the vendor. A few minutes and a bit of coin exchanged later, she comes away with two portions of the sweet treat, one of which is offered to Heng-Tali. "This stuff alone makes a flight out here worth the effort, she says, chortling softly. "I should bring a little extra back home with me for Dr. McCoy."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian tilts his head a touch to one side as his gaze turns to her arm, watching her movements as well. There is a flicker of curiosity to his dark gaze, for Heng Zhihao has no knowledge of how Shannon's particular gift works. Vitali knows, yet not all of what he knows is available for Zhihao to also know. He studies her for a long moment, and then he gives a small nod. "This one will try to be gentle with it. This one does not foresee a reason for it to become harmed again, at least not within the next few days," he says softly, a small smile ghosting the corners of his lips. Things sometimes have a way of happening, and as had been noted earlier, Vitali has a knack for getting into trouble. Hopefully he'll actually manage to not hurt it more.

His gaze follows her when she suddenly gets to her feet, and one of his eyebrows lifts. "Mm?" he wonders aloud. A touch of curiosity drawn at the suddenness of it, no doubt. And for a moment, he can't help but to simply stare after her as she heads for the candied fruit vendor to purchase sticks of the delicious treat, and then returns with them. For a moment, his chin lowers and he looks to the ground as he half bows to her. "Xiexie ni," he says softly, a bit sheepishly. His gaze lifts after the thanks is offered, and he reaches out to accept the stick of it that is offered. "It is a treat that this one has not had for many years," he admits, a hint of colour touching his cheeks. He plucks the uppermost piece of fruit, and then pops it into his mouth to savour.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon smiles at the almost child-like delight with which Heng-tali seems to savor the treat. "And one I'm fast gaining a taste for. It's just as well I fly most places I need to go, so I can work off what I eat." Indeed, she's almost purring with pleasure at the sweetness of the candied fruit, closing her eyes as she lets the sweetness of the coating dissolve on her tongue. "Small wonder some spirits try to cling to this world, with wonders like this to enjoy."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Mm, the fruit is different. It changes, with the season," Vitali says softly, giving a small nod to her. He plucks the next piece of fruit from the stick, taking a brief moment to look it over before popping it into his mouth to eat. "It is a delightful combination," he adds, half lowering his chin. He removes another piece of the fruit, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and he tilts his head to one side as he looks to her. There's a flicker of silvery-blue to his dark eyes at his mention of spirits, and then he turns his head to look off to the distance a little bit. "This one only tastes it because of this body. This body is pleasing to this one, and this one intends to keep it and so it must be fed," he says softly, his brow furrowing slightly. There is a moment of a pause before he turns his gaze back to her. "This one does not cling," he adds, studying her in unblinking fashion.

Nightingale has posed:
     "If you do not cling, then why not let that body go?" Shannon shrugs, and just smiles, popping another piece of the fruit into her mouth, taking several long moments to savor it. Perhaps quite the loaded question, but well... it had to be asked. At least they had found a common point, in the enjoyment of simple delights, such as sweet fruits in season. Perhaps that was a starting point?

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"This one does not cling," Vitali says once more, his posture shifting to be a touch straighter. The piece of fruit between his fingers is then eaten before another is plucked from the stick. "This one needs this body for what this one seeks," he says, giving a small nod. Whatever that happens to be. He looks down to the stick of fruit, studying the remaining pieces that are left upon it. "This one holds fast to this body, just as this one has done with others. This body has magic. This body will serve well. It may die, but it will serve well while it lives," he says, a slightly matter of fact tone to his voice. That's just a bit disturbing, perhaps.

Nightingale has posed:
     "I would just as soon that body did not die," Shannon says, just as matter-of-fact as Heng was. "Friendship is a rare and precious thing in this world or the next, and I'd just as soon not lose one of the few that I have." Turning her head slightly to peer over at Heng, she studies those familiar features for a moment, seeking anything she can of Vitali in them. "It would help if there was some idea of what you were seeking."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"This one does not intend for this body to die. This one intends to keep it for a while to come," Vitali says, giving a small nod. The body has uses, after all, for it gives Heng Zhihao access to Vitali's magic. That had been quite a pleasing and unexpected occurrence. "Even if your friend goes to the next world, he would not be lost. He would be there, and safely so. Darkness would not be his fate," he says, giving a small nod to her. The features are familiar, for they are his, but they are alien at the same time whist his body is not his, the expressions not the same. "Bu," he says softly, giving a small shake of his head. "No. This one must do as this one must. There will be no help."

Nightingale has posed:
     Well, so much for that. Shannon simply nods, letting out a small sigh, her brows furrowing. At least Vitali was safe for the moment. That was something, at least. But damned if she could figure out what Heng's ultimate purpose was. Magic had been suggested as a bonus, so if that was the aim, it had already been achieved.

     Yet it seemed there was more to come.

     But what could it be? No, she was going to have to talk this one over with Dr. McCoy--and soon.

     "We will see," she murmurs in Russian, chuckling a little as if at a small joke. Let Heng wonder.

     Fair was fair, after all.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It would seem that Heng Zhihao has no intention of sharing whatever it is that has been selected as the purpose for existing. For the time being, Vitali is safe. Or at least, safe enough. He may or may not stay that way. He is quiet for a little while, his focus on the candied fruit and finishing off the stick of it. He shifts his hand holding the stick, and then he deftly flicks it -- without seeming to look -- towards and into a nearby garbage can. There is skill in that simple seeming movement.

The words in Russian draw a flicker of silvery-blue, but it doesn't linger. Smoothly, he rises to his feet and then gracefully bows to her, arms extended and with the right hand outermost of their pairing. "Xiexie ni. Your help has been appreciated. This one is grateful. This one must be away," he says softly. "Zai jian," he adds, inclining his head faintly towards her. And then he steps away, to go... somewhere.