Owner	Pose
Askante	Somewhere on the periphery of the great lawn of Central park, where old growth trees line jogging paths throughout the greenspace, it's particularly dark at night. Some might fear that kind of circumstance, for the sake a mugging, or other untoward and worse experiences. But tonight, there's a tranquility in this particular area, beneath an old red oak tree. Once they covered most of the eastern seaboard, now that particular species of Oak is rather rarer than it once was. Gnarly branches make for great climbing spots, if one can reach up that high. THe air is still. A cunning observer might notice that literally nobody comes into this area that has not a purpose of mind. Joggers are taking alternate paths, questionable lurkers are finding other places to be. In the low canopy, lying on a branch and quiet, is a figure. Most individuals do not see what it looks like, they see what they /want/ to see. Who knows if Kit will see Askante as it is? It's particularly individual to the strong willed or the mystically inclined of some level of power.
Kit Killovarras	It's nights like tonight that the Aardwolf likes to prowl, weirdly enough. He doesn't shy away from the darker areas, but rather seeks them out, his violet eyes glowing beneath the hood of his hoodie as he studies everything around him. He's looking for criminals, preying on those who would otherwise prey on others. The sudden rush of fear that comes from that strange stretch of older trees and remarkably dark jogging paths though, don't seem to frighten him as he simply ambles into them, eyes lazily scanning. There is a moments pause when the creature in the trees is noticed, violet eyes flickering ever so slightly as he studies the creature, his expression blank before the faintest smile tugs at one side of his maw. "Well, hello.." he says, his voice just barely able to be heard. "Never thought I'd see one of you.." books are a beautiful thing and Kit's family have no shortage of them, at one point in his life they were all he could read, so instead of flights of fancy and tales of fantasy, his bedtime stories were of Daeva, Spirits, Nymphs and Faeries.
Askante	Askante's arms are crossed over the bough it lays on, its tail wrapped around securely for extra anchorage. All four of those arms make a very good pillow for its chin and oddly it looks... pained isn't the right word, but it looks as if it's not in the best of minds. Haunted might be a good descriptor for the expression that haunts that androgenous face. And truly, it wasn't expecting anyone to address it like it was there -- most would see a particularly gnarly branch and think nothing more of it. The lack of light makes a black creature on a black night all the harder to truly define, but there's juuuuuuuuuust enough ambient glow from the better lit areas of the park, that the liquescence of its eyes is highlighted as it turns chin to look down. A little glint in the otherwise dark and the notion of a shape. "Stop looking at me. You aren't supposed to see me. Bad ..." it pauses "...whatever you are. You aren't ... what are you?" Curiosity engaged, the shadow on a shadow moves a bit, the silhouette of the crest of spines that hovers like EXTREME hair blots out the stars and canopy. It isn't stupid though. In a quieter voice, it comes to a conclusion. "You see me. Shaman or magi?"
Kit Killovarras	Kit reaches his hands up, slowly, letting his claws glow to illuminate a little more of himself as he pulls back his hood, his ears moving up from their typically folded position. There is enough light to emphasize that he's humanoid, but he looks far from human. The moment it tells him to stop looking at it, the aardwolf's muzzle drops slightly, his gaze moving to the base of the tree the creature lays on. "Magi," he says simply, "My name is Kit Killovarras, son of Ahmed and Akila." Direct parents name, name of his line, there is a certain formality that anyone in a family like his would learn, especially in a family where there may have been people whose power came from others through promise or rite. There is very little fear in this young man, next to none stemming from the darkness, though there is something there. A healthy understanding that he's face to face with something old, certainly and that in it's own right creates at least a little, but it doesn't outwardly show.
Askante	To the magically sensitive, this close up, the creature is a beacon of mystical energy. Most all of it is isolated and self-contained though, but it's probably rather rare to find anything carrying these many talismans and fetishes that actually -work-. Most individuals in the multiverse would manage two or three. Maybe four. There are dozens and dozens, all with actual power, upon the being. It's like the wierdest hoarder episode evvah. "A name is important. That isn't your name..." Askante murmurs, but it doesn't sound angry. Far from it, as it lifts a finger to its lips and there's a soft 'sssh' sound. The body language has it hunkering down, peering in the shadows, then it scurries like a gecko down the tree, dropping the last five foot or so and landing on all sixes, to move in a truly disturbing way until it's all but two foot from the youth. It sits there on its heels, folding two arms around its knees, its tail curled around its feet, spines brushing the leaf litter over its shoulder. One of its free hands reaches out, pokes the air nearby Kit, then withdraws. The motion is repeated a few times, as if it wants to touch, but doesn't have the permissions needed.
Kit Killovarras	"I only know the name I was given by my family." Kit admits with a slight nod. Well, averting ones gaze is a little harder when the thing you're not supposed to be looking at winds up right in front of you. The aardwolfs ears fold a little to the sides slightly at the sudden movement, but otherwise he doesn't move much. He doesn't miss the talismans, nor fetishes nor any of the other things that a normal person might mistake for a simple bauble or trinket. He doesn't miss the fact that they're real either and can't help bit let another little smile dance over his muzzle. "You carry an impressive collection." he says, still not looking the creature directly in the eyes. Again, there are some formalities that mages know to keep in situations like this. The poking at the air isn't quite missed either and he tilts his head ever so slightly when it happens, but then he gives a slight nod. "If you need, you have my permission. I am neither a guardian nor champion, so I have no issues with it."
Askante	Inch inch inch inch inch. RIGHT up in the muzzle. The creature ducks its head, so it can look the Magi square in the ... muzzle and lists left and right like a serpent getting a bead on its target. Then it reaches out a long blade-like spindel of a finger and boops the end of the Aardwolf's nose. "Boop. There aren't many of us left. I am the only me that I know of. Nobody needed us any more. We went away. I am still here. I think this says something." It cocks its head, leaning close again. All four arms go out, like a Skeksis worshipping the dark crystal. "Ayayayaya!" and nothing, but it wasn't really expecting there to be a reaction, perhaps that was for effect. "My shinies. I am still needed. They are all old," its hands return to where they were, hugging knees, exploring close proximity and the occasional touch. A long blade of a digit pokes at the very tip of an ear. "You are not a child of wepauwet, but you might as well be." It taps its head with another claw. "You smell like a human. You look like a god. That must be difficult."
Kit Killovarras	The boop gets Kit to suddenly go cross-eyes for a moment, then wriggle his nose a little and chuckle. "Perhaps less that others like you are unneeded and more that they were forgotten. Such is often the fate of spirits." he says, a bit of understanding to the words. The display gets another little chuckle and the spindly thing toughing his ear does cause it to twitch, but not much. When it mentions him looking like a god though, his ears do droop a little, this more noticeably than any other motion he's made so far. "Remarkably so. It's gotten easier in some ways recently, but some still scream when they see me." There's a little sigh, but then the look melts into an almost devious smile as he adds, "But, even that has it's advantages. It offers me the option to show at least some mercy to the people I hunt."
Askante	Askante considers that opinion. "I was smart, I suppose. Lots of names. Lots and lots of names. OOga-booga!" it flares its eyes wide and briefly, oh, so briefly, the Boogieman flitters into perception... so quick that it vanishes in a moment afterwards. To those that do not know, that urban legend persists and persists an persists, in the fear of the thing beneath the bed, in the cupboard, in the dark, under the turnpike. It might have sowed the seeds of its own survival. "Man is not very smart sometimes. Man wanders blind to where he can die, so very easily." It shakes its head, fiddles with the rings on its hands and turns a fire opal set in a silver housing oooooh so slightly. A dim glow starts up, just enough to see by. The mystical equivalency of using your torch app on your phone, only dimmer. If the flashlight was an actual torch. "No mercy. Don't know mercy. Mercy was someone else's. Just the job for me. Amazing how many still are stupid. But this is a painful world. There is too much fear."
Kit Killovarras	Light! The light gets a visible jerk from the Aardwolf as his eyes snap shut and he turns his head a little. In the light, the glow of his eyes would immediately disappear, revealing razor thin iris' for the split second before he reacts. It takes him a moment or two before his eyes open again and even then, his pupils are still adjusting, slowly revealing more and more of the gold and crimson of his iris as his attention goes back to the creature with a simple, "Sorry.Part of the difficulty of how I look, I suppose." he says. He didn't however miss the perception of the boogieman, though it got a little smile before he responded to the light. "It's a sad truth of the world that people will unknowingly walk to their deaths sometimes. More often than not, it seems those deaths come at the hands of their fellow man. But then again, there are those like me who use your legacy to hunt those who hunt others." He gives a playful little smile, letting his teeth show ever so slightly as he does and adds, "Let them live in fear that if they go back to hunting, the big mad monster will come for them again."
Askante	Askante reaches a hand out, loosely fisted and bumps its knuckles against Kit's chest for those last words spoken. The quills on its head rustle, rattling in an eerie manner that has nothing to do with gifts and simply to do with primal memory. It turns the fire opal on its ring a little, dimming the light to a dying candleflame. Then though there is a something that catches its attention. Hark! What is that? A soft hiss escapes and where he not unafraid, that would certainly be a disturbing sound to hear in the dark. "Maybe I will see you again, Magi Kit. Legacy remains... it is good that some remember the old ways and things half-remembered by most. Do not follow me." The instruction given, it blinks out of existence, but can be heard scurrying across the park, no doubt to a destination where someone and not necessarily the expected victim... is about to have a very bad night.
Kit Killovarras	His ears perk a little as the creature skitters off, he could easily follow the sound, but again, there are formalities that must be observed and any good magi would know them well. He gives a simple nod when he's told not to follow, so remain he does. He lets his ears fold down as he pulls his hood back up, turns away from the path he heard the creature take and as he starts to stalk off? He notices a jogger being followed, just outside the darker areas of the trail where Askante had been lounging prior to their meeting. There is a mugging about to take place, a good chance for the Aardwolf to hunt and hunt he shall, so with a grin and a lick at one side of his maw, he begins to walk after them, his footsteps utterly silent.