14138/Why a Garage

Why a Garage
Date of Scene:	18 February 2022
Location:	Mercy's Garage - Fort Joseph, Haven
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Scarlet Witch, Mercy Thompson

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Scarlet Witch has posed:
Though it's still daylight, it's a grey daylight, covered with clouds. The wind blows intermittently, sending the clouds swirling in interesting ways high up above. Rain starts to fall in gentle patters that mark the pavement in tiny star shapes. For the first few minutes. Then the sidewalks are a uniform darker grey, the streets all but black, and any exposed dirt a darker brown. Cars glisten and shine in passing headlights with the water upon them.

For the past several hours, Wanda's senses had been poking at her. Prodding at her. Finally, she gives into the feeling. She lets her magic envelop her, and take her to where it wishes her to be.

Wanda Maximoff steps from the magic, a halo of scarlet power. Only to find herself... inside a garage? She looks entirely dumbfounded and looks briefly at her own hands in confusion. As though to ask herself why the magic had brought her to a garage. Then, she looks around, takig in what there is to take in. Yep. Garage. It appears empty. The doors closed. The lights off. It is past business hours, afterall.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The splattering droplets of the rain drum out a rhythm upon the roof of the garage. It started out as just a pitter-patter here and there, but had had quickly become what it is now. There's some paperwork left on the desk within the office of the shop, though that's nothing out of the ordinary. A vehicle is within one of the bays -- a pretty red Volkswagen beetle, the older style. A convertible that has the top down and partially disassembled. This is likely why it's inside.

Rainy nights aren't easy ones for those with sensitive ears and noses. And both of those senses happen to be sensitive regardless of whether Mercy is in human or coyote form. It had been a long day, and she had wanted to run at the end of it. It usually isn't a bad idea. Tonight, it hadn't been the best idea. In coyote form, Mercy uses her nose to nudge open the back door of the shop. A door she'd left intentionally partially unlatched for this particular reason. She slinks in, favouring her right hind leg, and the door bumps closed behind her. She takes a couple of steps within, and then she stops, water trickling from her fur and her nose catching a scent she recognizes but not terribly well.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Wanda Maximoff looks around. She wanders over to where the convertible is parked, and runs a fingertip alkng it. "Why did you bring me here?" she asks softly. Not that she expects her magic to answer her. Not in understandable words, at least.

In the moments before the door nudges open, Wanda's eyes fix there. Watching. Waiting for the creature who is approaching to appear. So she sees the moment the coyote appears. "Daughter if Coyote," she states. "Interesting."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
It's a pretty car, the one in the garage. A red the shade of blood, though the only thing that seems taken apart on it is the convertible top of it. Some of the pieces are sitting on a tool box that sits on the floor near to the car itself.

The coyote that is Mercy lowers her nose and softly whuffles at the air, taking in the scent of the Scarlet Witch who has come to visit her in unexpected fashion. She takes a few steps forward, limping on her right hind leg, and she tilts her head a touch to one side at the words. Then, she gives a small nod. There is no point disagreeing with her identity. She gives herself a brief shake, water skittering from her fur coat. It only takes her a moment to shift from coyote to human. And then she reaches out to claim the towel from the counter, to wrap it around herself.

"I am one. Daughter of Coyote," she says softly, studying Wanda for a long moment.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The parts for the car are largely ignored by the Scarlet Witch. The Coyote has her attention. The limp is noticed, but Wanda does nothing about it. Not just at the moment, anyway. "You have the feel of his magic to you," she says. Wanda studies the woman. "Central Park. Werewolf. Any further issues?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Lifting one of her hands, Mercy lightly pulls her fingers through her sodden hair. She lifts a corner of the towel, to dry off her face. She quirks a bit of a smile, and then she gives a nod. "That's understandable. It's not really a lot of magic, though," she comments, a smile touching at the corners of her lips. She gives a small nod of agreement. "I remember. When the guy tried to shoot up the ice cream stand," she says. She's quiet for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it out, and she gives a small shrug of one of her shoulders. "I catch a scent of him, now and then. With the rain... I didn't smell him tonight, and he was in the woods out back. He tackled me, but I managed to get away. Took him for a chase and lost him and then snuck back here," she explains.