Snek and Wolf 3: Metal Snek Solid

It had been quite an eventful month; Yaksha had blown a crater in the Nevada Desert big enough to fit a small fortune in, had met his first Vizard, had shared a delightful meal with Rukia Kuchiki, and now was luxuriating in a bathtub large enough to host a party if he felt so inclined. He mused to himself how glorious life could be for one who had money readily available, and wasn't shy about reminding people of that fact. He could easily understand why this life was addictive; lounging in a bowl of hot water filled to the very brim with thick bubbles, sipping at a glass of some bubbly fizzing drink that didn't taste alcoholic at all but damn well better have been for the price, he steeled himself for the next, and most trying, item on his agenda. Today, he'd be dealing with someone every big at unpredictable and whimsical as...well, as him.

The irony didn't elude him, either; not too long ago he'd been the one begging this same woman not to force him to indulge in the carnal pleasures, for fear he'd never resurface. But now he was lounging in a suite that cost him nearly seven figures to get the key to, and he was rubbing elbows with some of the biggest movers and shakers outside of Shadow Fall itself. Every day was one long sustained high, maintained until he could no longer move or remain awake, and then he'd come back here to collapse. Sometimes, with another party if he deemed it suitably entertaining.

And the best part was even then it was all unfolding as he wished! Everything was progressing nicely, while he simply sat here drinking his fizzy-bubbly drink, and soaking in hot water. He'd spent so many hundreds of years just trying to get people to give him a shot, just repeating himself so many times it became like a mantra. And now he could walk among them, clothed in sheepskin, always being just odd and eccentric enough to be endearing, and never quite falling into that unfortunate valley. It had all become so easy when he wasn't looking, and now he almost felt guilty about it because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if he knew how!

He finally slipped out from the tub, drying himself with one of the fluffiest pieces of cloth he'd even seen, then shrugged himself into a terrycloth robe, which he cinched around the front with the loose strands of fabric. He began to walk towards the living room, and as he did his body slowly but surely began to grow more lithe and slender, hips widening even as his stomach narrowed in and his chest ballooned out, within 30 seconds resembling a pinup model moreso than anything else. His hair, normally some bright shade of brown, had settled into a raven black crown that left his heart-shaped face nearly impossible for the eyes to turn away from.

"Alright, Mirja. Let's see if curiosity can kill the wolf, as well."

Dress:

Mirja got an invite from an interesting man in Las Vagas, of all places. Not entirely unexpected, she had sent out a lot of feelers way back when she was fighting against Caanan. Her network was small but had people that knew what they were doing, rather than a large collection of idiots. So she reached the ears of many people. She was even in talks with a Mafia Don at one point, that was fun. He was a proper gentleman and she really enjoyed talking to him. Of course, then she went and murdered the unholy fuck out of Caanan and ever got around to getting that word out, so she occasionally got messages to come meet people because information about Caanan. She humoured them because she wasn't the kind of girl to scorn or snub people with these kind of connections, and that, was why she suddenly appeared without any warning outside of an incredibly gaudy house. Slip-Stream was a hell of a thing, after all.

'Size of this guy's penis, is approaching zero' Mirja thought, to the giggles of Hvit, before knocking on the door and waiting. She could smell people were in, and this was rather a den of debauchery if her nose told her anything. Rich people generally splurged out a lot on stuff they didn't need, which wasn't meeting with Mirja's sensibilities - who was rich in her own right and nobody would think it from her houses - but she could be polite. She had even dressed stunningly beautifully, to entice the man. While having no sexual desire, she enjoyed it when men gibbered over her. And that was why she stood here and waited. She wondered if she would need to intimidate this guy, and this was one of the few times when Reiatsu would be handy. Putting some guy on the deck without touching them never lost it's charm, after all.

The door to the building opened slowly, on a sight that would've driven many people to their knees, drooling; a woman, one perhaps six feet tall, with a rounded face that looked absolutely perfect to run one's fingers down, and a pair of lips that looked perfectly plump. The only detriment to this entire affair was the pinched expression on her face, and the curl of distaste to her lips. She had her arms crossed over her very generous bosom, which seemed to swell just perfectly beneath her robes, which revealed just enough of her thighs and legs to make a person's mind wander.

"So you do know how to dress up. That's good. Substance without style is positively boring. Step inside, and get a seat. He's working on dinner right now, but once it's finished he'll be right with you."

She pivoted on her heel, walking back into the building without another word, or a moment's pause. She moved with the lithe, smooth grace of a predator on the prowl; her hips swayed just so, her motions clearly meant to entice, even as her tone and expression was almost painfully clear as to her distaste. It wasn't hard to imagine how many people had been suckered in by just such a ruse, especially for someone as quick-witted as Mirja. The more important question was, what was the ruse...? Exactly what was this woman trying to achieve here?

Mirja looked at the person who had answered the door, and frowned softly. She had heard a strange gait inside with her incredibly sharp ears, as if a man was walking, and then stopped walking while a woman started. The woman answering the door was probably that person. Girlfriend, sex-slave, mexican maid? Probably the second one, but she was curious where the man had gone, she couldn't hear him anymore. Stepping in when she was invited, she focused on the surrounding area some more and then bit her lip. The male gait she had heard that suddenly stopped was nowhere to be heard or smelled, despite the place being predominantly male. There wasn't enough female around this place for her to be a guest of any length of time. She was pretty sure that there was, and currently and usually, only one person in this place besides her. She had theories and ideas, but nothing solid, yet. So she was going to keep her ears and her nose pricked, and rely on how nobody realized just how sharp those two where. The woman infront of her was rather attractive, but not Mirja's sort of thing. She was too good looking to entice Mirja. She was a girl who preferred marble to diamond because it looked more alive.

"Thank you. I do try to dress to impress. But with a wardrobe like mine, dressing is the hard part" She replied, watching the girl walk off with no much of a lithe stride to simply be a woman that spread her legs for a living. This whole thing made her on edge. But, then there wasn't much the remnants of Caanan's buggers could do now. Smash and Atlas through the door and fight a battle against Mirja, her Tulpa, and a pack of wolves? Good luck.

Yaksha shuffled along throughout the household itself, humming softly to himself. He didn't expect to keep the ruse going for long, but he had never expected the ruse to work at all if he was being honest. The idea had popped into his head some time back, and he had dismissed it as entirely silly, irrelevant shenanigans. He was a man of means and resources, so to waste his time on frivolity was...well, if he was being honest, it was a delightful change of pace. He could barely stop himself from giggling every time he went about his little game of charades.

And so here he was in the kitchen, gently singing to himself as he stirred a pot of pasta, taking a few strands out every now and then to test the texture. The ice queen persona may have been a bit much, but Mirja was one who appreciated big, flashy gestures if he was any judge. In fact, he'd hardly even be surprised if she kicked in the door and started talking to him directly instead of sitting patiently. Or perhaps she'd go wandering around the premises, trying to find whatever other entertainment there may have been. It was always hard to predict the actions of someone like her, which is why he had no real intention of trying. This entire conversation was going to be an ad lib, his first real attempt at walking the razor's edge of spontaneity with someone who had far more experience.

Then again, Yaksha had far more experience being inexperienced than Mirja, and that had to count for something. He chuckled to himself ever so slightly under his breath, slicking his hair back with one free hand, and ladelling a steaming pile of pasta onto each plate. He began to garnish them with the sauces and spices, then pushed his way through the door to the kitchen, singing out loud as he did.

"Dinn-er tiiime~! Come, sit, eat. Let's talk business, Mirja. And then afterwards, we can talk pleasure, mayhaps? Yes, with that dress I'm certain we can have all sorts of fun."

Sat patiently, Mirja waited for any manner of evidence that would allow her to pin-point her theories. And then it came. The feminine gait vanished as it neared the kitchen, and the male one picked up the stride instantly. Without seeing it happen, there was not much she cold think of behind it. Other than the guy was a shapeshifter? Stranger things had happened, but why the charade? Why switch from woman to man? It seemed like a wasted effort to do that, almost as if the person knew that Mirja preferred girls, but didn't know the aesthetic she preferred. This whole thing seemed strange and put her on edge, so she took off her gloves. Nothing that was apparently overt in it's execution, but for Mirja it was a show of her feelings towards her host.

When he came out with the food, Mirja gave him a look, and then shook her head softly.
"As much as I appreciate the effort you have put into this, lying to me is no way to earn my trust. Your overbearing charade irritates me. You think that everyone likes stupidly overdone women shoved in their face, and that is what is most irritating" She told him, standing from her chair. "As it is, I only came to tell you that I do not require help, the situation has been dealt with. My network is in a bit of disarray right now, so I can't get the word out to everyone who was asked for help. Now, sorry for wasting your time, and if you will excuse me, I have other things to be about" Mirja said, it was polite, but terse and clearly not impressed in the slightest. She headed towards the door, letting him have his pasta on his own, it seemed the preferred avenue for him, from the smell of the place.

"And there she is! The wolf that can make mere men quake in their boots. I know very well what you're about at this point, thank you very much. And I was actually calling you here to discuss helping me. Although I suppose help is a bit too polite a word for it. You made a promise, some time back, and now I should like to hold you to it."

The smile on his face was positively vulpine now, his legs crossing beneath the table as he gestured for her to sit once more. He wasn't surprised she'd caught onto the charade that quickly; it wasn't exactly hard after all. The real problem was figuring out the charade behind the charade. It was easy to pretend to be anything that struck his fancy, but to be something other than himself? To be something besides a hollow? That was the trick Yaksha couldn't get enough of.

"I had no intention of lying to you, and indeed was going to reveal my proclivities for misdirection about...ten seconds after you settled in? I've never been shy about the topic. I take on and take off faces like many people do scarves, or ties. It's become second nature to me, and I actually find it rather hard to turn it off. Luckily for me, these people seem to find it more endearing and delightful than deceptive and manipulative."

This time his entire body crumbled into fine powder; something Mirja would've immediately been able to identify as snow. It began to swirl and toss itself high up, coating everything-except the pasta, that would simply be wasteful and even now Yaksha couldn't help a bit of the needless theatricality- in a thin layer of moisture. When he reappeared, he now resembled a very old, very thin man, wearing a set of robes. He smacked his lips slowly, and winked one eye at her.

"I can't make you stay, of course. But I'd consider it a very distressing sign that a shinigami would rescind her offers of aid when she's fallen in with a cooler crowd."

He seemed to pause, gaze going completely blank, and distant for a good ten, perhaps fifteen seconds. He didn't even notice or recognize the very well-dressed wolf-girl who had he invited into his room, simply seemed to be thinking about nothing at all. Finally, with a low, heavy sigh, he turned back towards the pasta, doing an exceptionally convincing hobble.

"I should've gotten it in writing, in retrospect. Writing makes everything easier."

The problem with a prolific life-style was that one could make more of an impression on someone than they made on you. And then suddenly you had a guy coming to hand you a kitten because you had one said that you liked kittens, and they took away from that that you would adopt any that needed adoption. She was a very distrustful wolf, these days, and so when this man seemed to be either flattering her, or displaying knowledge of her beyond the norm for someone she had never met. Although, he did shift shapes, so maybe she had met him and he just wouldn't go to a shape she knew.

She found the deception irritating. If he knew her, then why did he stay away from the shape that she knew him by? The only explanation was that she was going to tear his head off if she realized who he really was, and that was a bit annoying. But then, he engaged in the theatrical, his body seemingly dissolving into a powdery substance, that was clearly snow. It had the smell of it, the look, and everything else. It remained that way for a few seconds before turning back into an old man who clung to his claims that she had promised him something.
"Yes, writing would be much more helpful. It saves small imps coming up to me and claiming I have promised them my first born and in hind-sight he realizes that he got screwed in the deal and so wants me to pay him back. But, if you are made of snow, why didn't you just say so? I have something right here that makes people made of snow tell the truth in every given situation" She said, pulling out the Damos Rune and biting her lip, splitting it so she began to bleed.

"Firstborn? That would imply you found a mate. Have you, Mirja? That sort of information would be very valuable to the right people."

He folded his hands over his chest now, meeting her gaze as he watched her spilling her own blood, and removing a carved stone from her person; undoubtedly, this was her attempt to strongarm him into cooperating. And...well, to be fair he was the one asking for her help here, so there was no real benefit to yanking her chain much longer. Forcing her to play his game would end poorly; Mirja wasn't the sort to take orders well, after all. At least, not in his experience.

"Over the last few months, I've styled myself somewhat of an autodidact. I've taught myself a lot about a great number of topics. And I like to learn, Mirja. When last we met, you made an offer to teach me. And now, I daresay I'm ready to be taught. So if you want to begin by destroying my home, I can scarcely stop you. But it won't change anything; it seems to me that giving away for free something people would pay me good money to learn is...just bad business. And I'm a businessman now. So...please? Just for a minute, let's put away the fists and swords and threats and just...talk?"

He remained seated, meeting her gaze; he knew he could do precious little to stop her, but that was nothing new. He'd been riding tigers for a good few months now. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times he had spoken to someone he was confident he could either defeat or escape in a fight. What was new was that this time he had no intention of looking a gift horse in the mouth. He'd abandon the gigai in a moment, if it would speed the process along. But for now, his best armor was doubt.

Mirja rolled her eyes and let the drop of blood splash onto the rune. It charged up in response, giving of waves of heat as if someone had just turned the air conditioning up to warm the air. When you were made of snow, sweating was not something that went down very well.
"No, that is why the imp is so pissed off. Because to get my First-Born I would need a partner, and that doesn't look likely any time soon, if at all. But the tiny fleck of trust I had left for you has just been blown away in the wake of you making it evident that anything I do could be weighed, measured and sold off to whoever wants to know about me. So, here we are. I don't know who you are, I don't know what you want, and I don't know why I am not creaming you across the walls right now. You can give up, come clean and tell me exactly who you are, or I really hope you enjoy being nothing, because that is all that is going to be left when I let this off. No more rambling, just tell me plain"

It was very clear now that this guy wasn't someone she had asked for help, nor was he anyone that she was in any mood to humor. His evasive attitude and claims of a promise without actually explaining anything about who he was, grated on Mirja's nerves. "I can speak without thinking some times, and that makes it hard to discern my intentions. So they are laid bare for you now so you know exactly what I want and exactly what I am going to do if I don't get it. Spill the beans, or spill your guts, I don't really care right now"