Snek and Wolf 3: Metal Snek Solid

"Yes, Mirja. I know. I had hoped I could have this conversation in a manner that made me comfortable, but I should've taken greater care to account for my guest's tendencies. Bear with me for just a moment please."

The man's mouth opened wide, far wider than anyone's ever should, and his hand slipped inside; as he did, his throat seemed to stretch and elongate as he fished around inside for a good nine or ten seconds, as if searching for something. Finally he seemed to get a solid grasp on it, and the lump in his throat could be seen travelling upwards now as he tugged and yanked...and dissolved completely into a pile of snow.

Standing before Mirja know, with his hand around his own throat, was a hollow that she would've recognized well by now; he was a bit more slender, and there were six overlapping slivers of glass that almost looked like they'd been surgically grafted into his scalp. And one hand ended in a ragged, bloody stump rather than a claw. But it was the same hollow that had once offered to help her capture Canaan, sure enough.

"Here we are. No more tricks, no more lies. It's just me, and you. And gods damn I hate it this way. No one ever takes me seriously once they see the mask and the hole. You once told me that I'd need a mentor, to learn to survive. You never personally offered to train me, but the implication was certainly there. And much though I hate it, I can't help but concede you're right. I can't keep running around laying my head on the chopping block just to make a point. There are people I can't afford to let down at this point."

He looked down at the bloody stump of his own hand, twitching it slowly, experimentally; he could already see that a small, almost hilarious-looking tiny appendage was growing there, and he reached down with his free hand, slicing it off with one smooth gesture.

"God I hate this body. I worked so hard for that one, and I don't even get to use it. I'd hardly call that fair."

She had only known a few people this irritating, and it certainly wasn't Henrex. There was no mention of Mirja being an idiot despite teaching him something cool, and no brooding over things he had no control over. But, depsite the short collection of people it could have been, she wasn't entirely sure who it was, until he did his crazy transformation, and turned into Yaksha. And then it was obvious. He had always been a fan of the theatrics, overtly being Yaksha like it was some flash amazeballs thing. Mirja glared at him in a deadpan manner, and had half a mind to just blast him anyway, but restrained that one and just put the rune away.

"Yaksha. You know, I don't take you seriously for reasons that have nothing to do with your mask or hollow hole. You've just shown exactly why I don't like you, and you keep on showing it by bitching away constantly like spending five minutes like that is going to cause your liver to explode, or something. Also, I'm pretty sure you rejected my offer for help, and you can't just come up to someone and say 'hey, remember that offer you made twenty years ago that I rejected, well I want in on it now, so you have to do it'. Doesn't work like that. So, if you don't mind, I am going to really go now, and let you get back to your preferred form because clearly being in your natural state is such a hardship that starving Mongolian children use you as the baseline for being thankful for what they have" Mirja was probably being unduely harsh to Yaksha, but she had no patience for a lot of the traits he exhibited, and that led her to be rather a bitch.

He met her gaze, fingers twitching slowly, lazily, as he sank to both knees, his head pressing to the ground. He rested there for ten, fifteen seconds, and then spoke in a calm, precise tone that carried none of his previous animosity. This voice seemed...completely wrong coming from his lips, if only because it was so quiet, and so determined.

"I'm not leaving, Mirja. I'm not too proud to beg. I called you here because I'm tired of moments like these. If you want my head, you can have it. I don't relish the notion of being thrust back into the cycle of rebirth, but if that's the cost of your aid, then so be it. I've spent a long time running around, doing the same thing, with very small variations. I'm tired of it, Mirja. I'm far too fucking old to be repeating the same mistake over and over. I've already sacrificed one hand as penance for being unable to move past my own petty, ridiculous tantrums."

He rested there, unmoving, letting each word sink it, as he folded his tail against his lower body, a clear act of obsequiousness as he waited for some sign of a response. He had no intention of making excuses this time around, or trying to defend himself against the endless allegations. This time, Yaksha was going to prove to himself and Mirja that he wasn't some old forgotten ghost, unable to move forward.

"There are things I want to protect. There are things only I can do. And I'm tired of wallowing in my own self-loathing, pretending I'm not what I am. I keep pretending that reading books and keeping up to date with popular culture makes me normal, but there's no normal for me. I'm a monster, Mirja. Tell me the price of your help, and I'll pay it. I can't take no for an answer this time, Mirja. So help me be the best monster I can be."

Now he came on his knees, begging all humble and shit. If he had done this in the first place, he would have still gotten in trouble, but a different kind of trouble. The trouble of Mirja telling him that he didn't have to beg for her help, she was happy to offer it to any who needed it, and he needed it. But his pride was insufferable and he scorned her offers because obviously he knew exactly what to do and didn't need Mirja's help. And now he realized that, oops yes he did, but Mirja was scorned now. She had a habit of holding grudges against people like Yaksha, people who changed their minds so dramatically for whatever reason.

"You are like a man begging an architect to build them a dam after the village has been flooded because they sent the architect away, because they didn't need a dam. You claim to be too old to make the same mistakes over and over, but that's exactly what happened. You wanted someone to help you, and yet when someone offered help, you said 'uhh, no, I am not learning from you, you use words that in some parts of the world imply a slight lowering of one's status to learn'. You hate your form, you hate how old you are, and you hate messing up time and again over the same thing. And yet you don't want to solve all of them in one stroke. So, no. I am not going to help you. Because I am a bitch. There is no cost because I can not be bought. You had once chance, you ruined it. And then you made a terrible second first impression. You knew it was me, you knew I didn't care that you were a Hollow, and yet you still held the whole 'I'm not Yaksha I am a random guy in Las Vagas, ohh, mysterious'. I'm from the 11th, I don't care about mystery, I just punch things"

"Yes. Everything you say is right. I had no intention of misleading you with this gigai, but that was the inevitable result. It was like...a child. With a new toy. I got overly excited, and spent all of this time wanting to show it off. I turned you down last time because I was a smug, self-satisfied asshole, and because I still couldn't shake myself of the notion that I was being the subject of pity. It still burns me to my core to be the subject of pity, but...I'll accept it."

He remained where he was, his head still pressed against the ground, his claws tearing tiny divots into the ground in front of him. He once more paused, clearly trying to work through the thoughts in his head. For the first time, it actually seemed he was making them up on the fly, rather than consulting some big cheat sheet, or trying to impress or intimidate with his glibness.

"It has only been a few months since we last met, but they've been eventful months. I've learned a lot, and changed. And I'm done making excuses. I am arrogant, Mirja. I want to believe that I can do the impossible. I want to surpass those who came before me. I want to defy reality itself. And to do that, I need strength. I've spent too long pretending I could perform surgery on myself. To...excise the parts of me that are unflattering, or contradictory. I've been too arrogant to admit that the problem was always that it was me holding the knife. I don't want to accept your way, because...I'm arrogant. And I want to believe that I can find my own path to peace. But I can't do it like this."

He remained in that spot, prostrate, his heart pounding hard enough to leave him feeling antsy; he wanted to stand up and pace, to start speaking at a rapid-fire pace until he could find certain words that felt right on his tongue. He wanted to do any number of things to assert control. But there was no control to be found here. That had been the most painful lesson of all; even when he faced some of the strongest entities in the world, those who could destroy him with a flick of a wrist, he took some perverse glee in walking the razor's edge; in exerting whatever tiny shred of control he could.

"Mirja. I've come a long way since last we met. But I'm still not the man I want to be. I need help."

Mirja stood, her face stoic and unchanging as Yaksha spoke. Digging his own grave and then, because he was such a helpful chap, filling himself in as well. Like, what a swell guy. So helpful, ten out of ten. Mirja didn't even need to say anything because everything there was to say was already said by Yaksha. She didn't like his pose, it was something that seemed designed to avoid looking in a person's eyes. And sure, getting stared down by a large wolf girl, burning silver eyes and an incredible presence might have been intimidating, but it was honest. She liked honest. And laying on the ground with your eyes so diverted, was not honest.

When he was done, Mirja spoke firm and concise.
"No. You, are an idiot. And I do not train idiots" She let that sink in for a few seconds, before taking a breath. As if about to rant, but then let it out. "I will leave you to learn how you are an idiot, because once you know, and you can accept the reasons, you will no longer be an idiot. But until you do learn, then I will not teach you anything. Look to your books. Did you ever feel pitied while reading them? Did your arrogance ever prevent you from learning what they had to teach? The answers start there, but are found in your heart" She told him, before turning away from Yaksha, to leave him to his life.

She couldn't force him to evolve, she could only point out the road in which he should travel, and then it was up to him if he decided to take the first steps. Yes, it would be hard, yes there would be times when he stumbles, and falls, and thinks himself unable to get up, but there would be no problem in that. It would build character.

"You have to realize this isn't going to end, Mirja. If you won't help me, others will. I've already spent a good few thousand years looking at myself. I could write a book on how stupid I am."

The hollow began to push himself off the ground, running one hand slowly and carefully down his chest, as if removing dust that had accumulated there, or something of the sort. He rolled his shoulders, and this time his gaze was remarkably direct, and straightforward. He tilted his head to the side, and then bared his teeth in what may generously have been called a smile under normal circumstances. He bowed towards her, a slow folding motion that left him staring at the ground for a good long few seconds.

"I will continue to grow. Call me whatever terrible things you like. I'll accept them all. But there are people out there relying on me, and I can't sit idly by anymore. There will come a day when you can't afford to write me off as an idiot anymore. Until then, I thank you for your time. I understand you're a very busy woman, so I won't take any more of your time. Have a nice life, Mirja."