Feb 02 11:23:36 108 PA - Kentucky, Russia, and Hideous Clash
From Chronicles
Feb 02 11:23:36 108 PA.
PLAZA PARK
It may be the second day of February, but it's still deep winter in Missouri. Perhaps if Missouri had been closer to an ocean, the winter would have been more temperate, but unfortunately, such is not the case. Shortly before absolute midday, the Sun is at least out, with puffy wintry clouds. Of course, most people know that in winter, clear and crisp skies means cold, cold temperature. Such it is today in Kingsdale's Plaza Park. There are two-foot high, sometimes three-foot high snowdrifts that have collected over the previous night, and yet to dissolve, as though sunlight is hitting them, surface temperature remains below zero. A short man in a light overcoat is standing near the edge of the Park's frozen lake, his head bowed a bit, cap blowing in the intense wind. His lightly-gloved hands are raised at chest height. Probably holding something, but whatever it is, it's something small. A good line of footprints through the thick drifts leads to him from off of Main Street.
The cold and snow keep most at home and away from the park. If there are any mammalian young here tossing handfuls of snow, they might reconsider when another enters the clearing. There are no feet and therefor no footprints; just an undulating depression in Davirok's wake.
Snow in Kingsdale meant one thing; Lev Dovator traded in his litter picker for a shovel! His jumpsuit still hasn't changed much despite the weather, the massive cloud that is his beard and hair acting as far better insulation than any hat ever could. With methodical, quiet precision, he moves the frozen mass from the main walk-ways of the Park, a large Russian riding horse trailing behind him with a small cart. Filled with road salt, of course. He pauses, wiping the sweat from his brow, and notices a man standing - by himself - in the snow. "Ah, you are going to being sick?" He asks, English semi-rough.
The shorter man, known to many these days as Gabriel, is distracted from whatever it is that he's doing just enough to notice Lev, apparently Kingsdale's new general handyman or janitor. With a nod and a smile, he calls over, "Privet holodnoi' zimy, da?" It will never be enough to be completely fluent - the trip through the rift, or whatever it was, knocked that knowledge out of him - but it will be correct, just with a thick Kentucky drawl to make it confusing. The other... thing... is also noted, with a scowl. Usually things like that are the kinds of things that you shoot at, or perhaps toss grenades toward. However, as it's in the city, and in the Park... it's presumably okay. Gabriel's eyes return to whatever's in his hands.
Davirok bears no apparent burn or blast marks, but Gabriel's assessment is a common one. Yes, it passed through the gates and is in the city. Whether or not there are armed humans with eyes on Davirok and his movements, even now, is another matter. Davirok continues further into the park, towards the lake and any near it.
Lev laughs, a delighted sound despite his gruffed voice, and comments wryly, "Bez tryda ne vinyt I ribki iz pryda." His chortle continues, even as faded blue eyes turn to find the source of Gabriel's sudden concerned expression - and his own face is filled with shock. "'To, chto eto??" He questions, glancing aside at Gabriel. Apparently unaware that, despite the weird accent, Gabriel isn't precisely fluent. Resting a hand on the sledge hammer at his belt; As if it'd do any good.
This time, Gabriel seems uninterested in speaking anything more than his native tongue. Which, incidentally, is English, not American, as American is a conglomerate of various North American languages. Of course, he speaks Kentucky English, which is its own language, too. His drawl sprawls out, "What the fuck is that?" But it's mostly lost to the wind, his eyes remaining in his hands. Lev is acknowledged with a short wave.
The eyed one eyes back as it's front portion stops, then the rear after pushing further to coil beneath. Davirok studies one human and the other, in turn, head held a foot or two above the taller of the two. It finally speaks, if that is what the mechanical, breathy basso sounds could be called. "Men'a zovut Davirok." The inflection is flat, nonexistent, but it is an answer to their questions.
Lev glances aside at Gabriel as he switches to English, before his attention is taken by the beast rising upwards from the snow. Slowly, carefully, Lev begins to edge his way.. in front of Gabriel? Well, it certainly looks like it. Easing the hammer from his belt - again, as if that would do a thing to this monster. Lev is not a small man by any measure, and yet even he is dwarfed by this thing! And then it speaks. He pauses, hammer drooping, before he tilts his head. >>You speak Russian?<< He asks glancing back towards Gabriel. Before continuing. >>I am sorry. You had startled me and.. this.. other.<<
Gabriel may be a little more used to seeing things like this than he was only a few months ago, and the horrific blob - a movie that he saw back in the '50s - is relegated surprisingly far back in his mind. To the much taller Lev, "Nekotorye. Zhena moi russkaya." Or, 'Some, my wife is Russian.' Ironically he holds up a small 3x3 inch color Polaroid with a picture of... well, it's probably tough to see without getting closer. "They have you busy sweeping the streets, Lev?" Wow, he remembers the man's name after only one meeting.
"Da." A short answer in one language before Davirok switches to the other, or close. It is modern American, with intonation much more natural. Comparatively speaking, considering the source. It also carries an audible edge as the serpentine creature leans and lowers its head towards Lev. "Put away the weapon. I am not hungry."
Lev turns his head to glance slightly back to Gabriel, but his eyes remain on the Davirok as he speaks. "Da, is to being good job. Is to being good for soul, to being working with hands." He then focuses his attention on the worm, but though the hammer is drooping, it is not dropped. "Is to being certain, Davirok. Are being.." He pauses, searching for the word. ".. Not harming de people?" It's a frightening beast, but he has met a few frightening beasts with hearts of gold; Praise to God if this were another. Curses to fate if it was not.
The shorter man smirks a little, and while he holds that small photograph carefully in his left hand, protecting it from the chill wind, he raises his other, waving down the worm-like creature. "What my friend here - and myself - would like to know, is what *are* you? You're right up on the scale of one to ten as far as really fucking strange looking goes." Of course, it's not as crisp as that, with a Kentucky drawl, but it's still easy to understand, with the voice raised above the wind. Curious, Gabriel is usually much more quiet and polite.
Davirok's core may be metal, but gold? Unlikely. "I am not harming you, or you." Head and neck move so that it can face Gabriel. "I am not human, not mammal, and I am here. This world is strange, humans strange." It is all a matter of perspective.
Lev chuckles, a strange sound considering his stance; But perhaps its just Russian politeness. "And am being very glad of dis, Davirok. But am not so worried for self; Am to being far more worried for others, da?" None the less, the hammer slides its way back into his belt, as he glances once more to Gabriel. "Da. Is correct." Faded blue gaze back to the big worm. "Am not seeing many dings, Davirok, dat are to be looking like you. Is Davirok to being a name, or a .. a.." He breaks off, unable to think of the correct English equivalent.
Gabriel states, "Not human, not mammal, but here. So, bird, reptile, fish? I assume you're not a plant, giant virus, or bacteria mat, but there are so many choices, aren't there?" The older man retorts with far more cynicism than he'd ever dream to speak with at any normal time. Any time that wasn't February 2nd. "I'm Gabriel, I'm human, and I am here. I'm from a place that no longer exists. Where're you from?" The man's eyebrow arches in question, his face bland; interested but uninterested. For now, a proper noun is not apparently sought. The photograph is clutched closer to his heart.
"Another world," is the answer the the last question. Davirok doesn't answer the other from Gabriel. It chooses to respond to Lev, instead. "Humans never seen others here like me. I am the only one." The answers aren't always direct, but Davirok is attempting to be diplomatic. It remains partially, loosely coiled, numerous appendages resting idle along the vertical portion of its body.
Lev nods his shaggy head quietly. Cordial he could be, even with something as strange as Dovirak. He reaches up, flattening a meaty hand against his own chest as he speaks. "Am to being Lev Dovator. Am to being from de.. de place dat is close to Volga Fortress, de Sovietski." He glances back to Gabriel, trying to cue from the other fellow who speaks with such vicious aplomb; Faded blue eyes briefly fall to the photograph, and a spark of curiosity arises. "Eh?" For a later time. Back to the worm. "Are you to being on the hopes of seeing things? Is being... " He pauses. ".. Is being out for slithering?" Walking seemed the wrong word, somehow.
After a small inhale and slow exhale - and tighter clutching of the picture - Gabriel asks, "Your world have a name? Or does it not matter because we wouldn't know it anyway? How long've you been here, ah, Davirok? Nice tail. I think." He then looks down toward his chest, Lev apparently forgotten or ignored. His hand pulls away just enough so that he can apparently see it. "Ya skuchayu po tebe, Natashka." The man's face genuinely falls, and his free hand twitches unconsciously.
"Yes, but it does not matter. Yes." Davirok has no trouble with polar questions, while the comment about its tail earns no comment. "I am here to see things. To learn. Why are you here?" The questions is directed at both, as both humans implied that they are no more native to the area than Davirok.
"Me?" Lev grins, flashing teeth lightly stained by a life-time of use towards the worm. "Am to be cleaning de snow from de walk, for so dat de people are not to being fall down." It's an entirely truthful answer, of course, but probably not what was sought. He glances back to Gabriel, raising an eyebrow at the words, and questioning. "Eh. You are being okay Gabrisk?" He asks, at the phrase.
Gabriel's response to Lev is polite, but brusque: "Not really, no." He catches he man's eye, but that's all. His response to Davirok, though, is cryptic, but this time it should probably be considered 'fair,' in light of the immediate circumstances. "I don't know how I got here, but I do what I can." He waves his free hand toward the metallic-lizard thing. "On any other day, I would have been more polite, but despite that, I have to tell you, you should probably expect that. Actually, you should probably expect a lot worse response from most people. Most people don't like change, and they don't like strange." He snaps the fingers on his free hand. "You're very strange."
Davirok bobs its head as it listens. It could be an emulation of the human gesture or simply a tick of its own habit or nature. "Some humans flee, some attack. Some flee to return with others who attack." Gabriel is not offering any great insight. "The humans at the gates were afraid, wanted to fight. Here, they are more ordered, less scattered. It makes them stronger, less stupid."
Lev shrugs his shoulders. "Can not to be blaming so much, dese fellows. Most things in dis world, -snap-, gone. Not so many dings want to stop and speak, da?" He grins that grin again, leaving 'Gabrisk' to his melancholy for now; The man mad it clear it was no business of Lev's. Though at last, he begins stepping back to the cart, speaking as he does. "Eh, is being good time to being go to work. Am cooling off! Not so good, if being in de cold, da?"
A rather belated glance is directed toward Lev - not mean, just direct. "My name is Gabriel, not 'Gabrisk.' Parents gave me the name for a reason. Born in Hazard, Kentucky, United States of America, 1918. Not the Soviet Union. My accent may be a giveaway." The statement ends with a quirked and questioning eyebrow. If anyone wants to know what he's grumpy about, it doesn't look like he's just going to up and volunteer it. He turns his gaze to the odd serpentine thing. "You came through gates? Which ones, the Devil's Gate? Thousands of soldiers and vehicles in armor with stylized skulls shooting at you when you came through?"
"I came through the gates, here, into the city." Davirok's head cants to the right at the leading question. "I do not know the Devil's Gate, or of so many humans." Two tentacles lift to point in opposing directions. "Here are more humans than I see before."
Lev pauses, raising shaggy eyebrows slowly at Gabriel before he nods. "Is being okay. Gabrisk like, uh.. like.. being friendly name, da? 'Hey Johnny'! Is not to being upset." He does not grin this time, but seems genuinely apologetic before lifting a hand towards the worm. "Dasvidaniye, Davoriki." And then he goes to start catching up with his horse, who had panicked silently when the worm rose up. Lev does not bother running; He'd never catch it unless it wanted to be caught, when it calms down.
Without looking over, Gabriel comments, "I know it's colloquial. I'm not just in the mood right now, Lev. Sorry." He then watches the... janitor, apparently, run after his horse. Or trot. Or.. just sort of walk. Instead, his focus rises back to the metallic annelid-thing. "Where did you appear? Just right out here in front of the Kingsdale gates? You said that you're from a different world, so you had to have appeared somewhere." Perhaps if he'd been in his time just a little longer, he might have been able to make a crack about Mr. Scotty.
Davirok observes Lev move away in search of the animal before responding to Gabriel. "Not near the city, but on this continent. I moved through a portal and emerged on this planet." Its head turns to pan around the park. "Not a choice I would make again."
"Choice?" Yeah, that's all that Gabriel says as he looks at that photograph, raises it to his lips for a shockingly gentle kiss, then puts it delicately into one of his chest pockets.
"To travel to another world. This world." Davirok clarifies the comment and begins to uncoil. "It is strange." As are Gabriel's actions with the small item, but there is no comment or question of it.
With the photograph out of the picture (to mix metaphors.. or something), Gabriel's mood is cheering up. "How do you choose to travel to another world?" His eyes then go wide, really wide, not just like dinner plates, but like *huge* dinner plates. "Could you take me home?!"
Davirok's head sways to the left and right. This time, the movement is an obvious and exaggerated attempt at human mimicry. "I did not create the portal, only moved through it. You can ...walk anywhere I could take you." Slither is not the appropriate term, and the word is alien to Davirok no matter how strong or weak its grasp of the language.
The older man's whole body collapses a bit. Sure, it was an extreme hope, but it was hope, and now it's gone. Gabriel begins to wade through the snow toward the creature. "I'm not going to bother mincing words here. Just.. what the hell are you? Seriously? I mean, metal, but like a giant worm with a head? Psychic, magic? Just really huge and ugly? No offense."
"I am not a worm." There is a strong note of disdain and distaste from Davirok. "I am (what follows sounds like nothing more than a grating hiss). Living machine. There are humans like this," After the comparison, it feels compelled to add, "but are inferior."
Gabriel quirks both brows. "You're... an amorphous blob 'Borg?" His head cants sideways as he examines the huge creature. "So, you have laser cannons tucked in there somewhere? Really, I'm not meaning to be rude, you're just unusual, my friend." He trudges closer to Davirok, close enough to touch, and even puts his hand out as the being looms over him. "May I?"
Davirok creates a soft hiss that sounds less like a reproduction through a speaker and much more a forced exhale. "You may." Now uncoiled, much of its body is now at or below human level. A touch reveals that the appearance of metal is genuine. Davirok's skin, so to speak, is as cold as the air. The light noise of scales tapping or sliding on one another is also more pronounced as a slight vibration with movement. Davirok is not a blob, merely serpentine or ophidian.
"Wow." Gabriel looks over... up... wherever Davorik's "face" may happen to be at the moment. "Metal inside, too, like a 'Borg?" He taps his chest with a closed fist, gently. "Or blood and guts?" A chill wind makes a sudden appearance and nearly blows his woolen cap off, but he manages to grab it before it actually leaves his graying hair.
"Flesh can be weak. There is none." The direction would be upward, as Davirok does not lounge to be petted excessively. "If more humans did this, were not so afraid, not so scattered, maybe they would not die so easily."
Gabriel's head bobs around as if it were on a short, thick spring as he backs away into a snowdrift, a polite distance. "So what are your plans? Just live around? Help out humans from dying so easily?" He allows himself a bashful smile, and if someone was close enough, might even see a little blush on his cheeks. "I do what I can to help out. Any creature that needs assistance."
The look on Gabriel's face says that he clearly doesn't know exactly what to make of the metal creature's last comment. "So basically, you're just going to hang around and watch, then. Just let things fall where they might. Gaze from the backfield to see who lives and who dies, not doing anything unless someone does something to you?" He shrugs. "I can't say that seems terribly... noble?" There was a hesitation as he searched for the correct word.
"I am not here to save humanity," Davirok explains, "only observe. You stumble around in fear and chaos like ...(another hiss, this one derisive)." It cannot bring an apt word to mind. "There is no order. If humans cannot bring it, better that others do."
Gabriel holds a hand to the side. "Which is it, then. Sit there like - a slug... or bring order? Certainly just sitting around and waiting to see how everything falls into place would eventually get boring." The last bit is more of a question couched in a statement. "I believe that you underestimate humans, and you haven't even mentioned the thousands of other species trying to live in harmony. In fact, by the very act of sitting around and doing nothing, you, sir, are adding to the chaos." The older man stops and inhales, preparing to make a very important statement, arms crossed in front of his chest. "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
There is another hissing of air. "I do not do nothing. I am here and will do what I can." Davirok gathers a partial coil beneath itself and begins to push through the snow again. "If you cannot bring yourselves out of idiocy, as numerous as you are, I could not do it alone." It pauses and finishes an earlier thought. "Cattle. You are like cattle, without a herd." With that thought, it resumes movement. "Now, I need to eat."
Gabriel steps back to allow the creature complete freedom of movement. Yet he wears a smirk on his face, a wide one. "Yes, yes, I've heard various forms of that phrase spoken for more than four decades now. Thanks for letting me know where you stand." He'll touch the side of his hand to his woolen cap, not as a salute, just a recognition, but otherwise just stand aside for Davirok to depart.
