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Reno never in a hundred years thought he'd be hanging out with the Sorcerer Supreme because the Angel of Death asked something of him. Yeah, hat was actually higher on the list of things he didn't expect to accomplish right above 'Cooking Cuban food to the approval of his ex'. Some things just were not likely to be a thing, but lo here he was.
As it was cold and because it drew fewer suspicions (and were he honest, solely because the phrase 'as the crow flies' is the bar for short distances? Yeah Cuervo flew. Doorbells could be a real bugger but- hey now! There was an oddity. The window was open on the second floor. Sadly not that super cool looking round one. That thing was sweet; real sweet! Not to birb: ask what's up there sometime. What was he doin again? Oh yeah! seeing why the second floor window was open. That's not safe. Anyone could just fly in there and find trouble which he demonstrated by way of doing.
A fwip-fwip-fwip of wings and feathers came to park on the globe inside with a faint 'rawk-ing' chirp that was the voice of a gravely little crow inquiring to the silver phantasms that trailed around him like curious motes. Crows were not songbirds, but they were super curious and loyal to their causes and people that do right by them. This brought his attention around the study looking for a tall dude with the slickest PJ's in New York City. Something was off. Something was most definitely off. As if just to be sure he engaged one of the paintings in the wall in a brief staring contest. Paintings were creepy. It felt like he was being watched. He sighed and murmured, "Man if I wanted to be watched suspiciously I'd go shoppin at Macy's. Uncool, Rembrant. Cool your pastels man." Yes, he was fronting at the painting, his wings fluffed up slightly in consternation until it continued to not do anyhting of note. "That's what I'm talkin about man." Uh-huh.
*
The painting on the wall, with its occupants captured in thoughtful repose, doesn't blink a la those of Hogwarts. Still…that lingering feeling of intelligent eyes upon the crow remains. The slip-silvery warding spells lazily weave about the immediate area, not inclined to action just yet. After all, their master hasn't given the end-all command.
The shadows of the Loft are dark places, depthful in deceiving ways. The wane light of the day doesn't offer much aid in revealing their secrets. It's easy to weave through them on silent paws the size of salad plates, his eyes with slitted pupils framed in muted frosty-purple. With a pelt of inky black, he blends in beautifully save for the argent wisps of hair beneath his rounded ears.
As Reno focuses on the painting, he slips right up behind the crow and sits down in complete silence, the length of his tail slowly curling up around his feet. Whiskers crinkle in a human-like smile. And thus, Stephen waits in the form of a black panther for the shifter to realize he's here.
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|ROLL| Reno +rolls 1d20 for: 17
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Reno was so brave…against paintings that didn't move…or have sentience. Yeah there was that. His little head bobbed still eyeing it down for a potential fight with a flick of tail feathers. Yeah? Who's the boss around here, painting!? Well… Not… Not Reno. But he knows a guy! Yeah! The body language really spoke for itself. He took a hover around the room travelling widdershins looking everywhere but to his left. HOW he missed that great big panther is anyone's guess. Like Kat-Kong and a black fluffy airplane. Unbelievable. "Woooah Strange yous got some cool stuff up here." Casually TO the panther he stretched a wing out to tap him to get his attention, "Hey man you see this stuff? You think he knows what's all in this pl-AAAAAHHHHH!" Oh once he realized that's not someone but a giant cat? Yes the failbirb went tailfeathers over teakettle scrambling to teh side in a half roll and entirely uncoordinated fashion. And they let this birb cut hair. Really?
*
The brush of feather-tips against his fur is tolerated, even if the panther leans away the slightest with ears pricked. Once the realization slaps Reno upside the head? Cue the all-too-human laugh emerging from his mouth, complete with ivory teeth of all predatory shapes. The voice remains impossibly the same despite the physiological differences in shape. Ah, magic.
"The Loft is full of amazing relics, yes, all cataloged by my own hands. A wise idea that you didn't touch any of them. Some have…opinions of their own." As if sensing something towards the far corner of the room, Strange pauses and looks that way intently. The moment of stillness passes and he blinks slowly as he glances back to the crow. "What brings you to my Sanctum, Reno?"
*
Reno took a while to focus once in panic mode. This was not new for the frazzled bird. He was all heart, but sometimes he was not all together. Thursday was one of the 8 out of nine day types this was true for. Tomorrow though? Always a possibility! Someone was laughing. Was that a Strange voice?! Landing on the floor the wings went out, trembling slightly, but he tried to move slowly facing he large carnivore. "Cat why you sound like Strange? I'm gonna bargin wit'chu. Eating Strange-bird is like… uncool man, and uhhhh I'm gonna hafta ask you to ya know like spit him out an' stuff?" He paused being terrified to hold one wing out laterally to be helpful…no wait… yeah a little shorter than that. "Lil guy. Magpie. Kinda skinny. Blue-black. Prolly tastes like a chicken nugget. Can't miss em. If you could give em back though? That be appreciated." Not quite like bargaining with Dorammu, but ya know, still always a sound fallback tactic.
It was when whole sentances formed he had to stop and squint, "Jefe, tha'chu? Man, warn me if you wanna be a cat-wizard thing… or those called druids? Those is dog wizards." Wings drooped onto teh floor for a moment between folding up in travel form wandering around. "Yeah I saw that that one time I came to see you and you weren't home. That armoured glove thing is really rude. Puttint hat out there." He paused. There was a question… what was it? Oh yeah. "Oh, I come to talk to you about the book man. Empty one? And I saw your window was open and I was like that's unsafe anyone could jsut wander in here which… I guess happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay and then there was this big cat and-" He stopped and both wings came forward articulating where human gestures of his arms held forward in presentation might be, "Aaaaand you were like here for the rest. Why you a cat? Someone not like you?"
*
It's probably hard to pick out that enigmatic smile on the panther's face, but maybe the angle of the whiskers give it away in the end. Rising to his feet, he indulges in a long-limbed stretch before padding past the crow and towards the raised central platform beneath the Anomaly Rue.
"Why not someone like me? I am me, Reno. It is my Astral form beneath the pelt and muscles. I am still alive, I still breathe, and I still speak of my own volition…having not eaten myself." The low baritone chuckling proves his amusement as to the concept. "I am still the Sorcerer Supreme, though your reaction is an excellent point as to the 'why' of my momentary state. Lack of recognition." He lays on his side now, resting back like a lion in the shade of a tree. The 'thump' of his tail on the wood is a light sound. Those eerie frosted-lilac eyes continue to rest on Reno. "Surprise is deadly. Any edge that I can have over my enemies is a welcome one. If I can fool a friend, I can fool a foe." Front claws slip in and out of velvet sheaths. "You still need an empty book, however? Hmm." Eyelids lower and he mulls over options. A sharper flick of his tail and broad spread of one paw overtop the space before him and…poof:
An empty book. A copy of Betty Crocker's latest cookbook, in fact, wiped of its information. Strange pushes it towards Reno with the flat of his paw. "I don't cook," he explains with a decided disregard for the unorthodox answer to the crow's request.
*
Reno padded under and after the great cat with a tik-tik-tik-tik-tik of small talons on flooring. Attentive was the fluffy football of a bird tilting his head when the discussion about foes comes out. He waited it out until they were ont eh same page that Reno wasn't there to bring Strange trouble. He was certain his pal knew that but he was a cat right now and cats are canny by nature. "Well I dunno. I try not to peek under people's fur lookin at their astral body. Seems a lil invasive. I mean, ya know privacy's a thing. I don't wanna be like that ghost that haunts my bathroom some times. I mean you ever just hold off on takin a shower so you're not haunted while, ya know, tryin not to be covered in soap? Super awkward man. Lemme tell you."
When the book was slid forward he toooook a step forward and grappled the cover with one deft set of toes and cracked the lid. "Oh excelente, man. That'll hide it. Prolly help me pick up chicks too cause they be like 'Whaaaat? You know Betty Crocker?' and I be like 'Yeah, chica, we used to go t'school together! Come over I show you.'" The crow's head wobbled as he preened happily. Someday… someday man. But he'd be prepared now!
*
Strange nods in his head, inwardly pleased for the crow's acceptance of the book. There had been a wift of a worry that the offering would be rejected, but it was not. Thus, the Sorcerer is proud. Help out a friend and remove an eyesore from his collection. Two birds with one stone, that.
"My thoughts precisely, at least in the concept of hiding away whatever you choose to write within it. But you said your bathroom is haunted? Or was it the shower? Are you unable to ask the ghost to leave?" Strange shifts again where he lays, shoulders slipping at angles beneath the thick dark pelt. "I would offer my assistance, but then it becomes a matter of…a favor." Oh, how he savors the word as he says it, followed by a warm laugh. "And there are rules with favors, of course. Although…I could remove the ghost in return for your aid with the sylph neonates," he points out in honesty.
*
or one bird and one book. Reno-crow looked up and blinked too damn honest for his own good, "Hey man, helping me out withthe book and listenin to me carry on about it is a pretty good favour. But I mean the guy? I think he'll be ready to talk in time. I mean I am just haunted all teh time. It's sort of part of being Cuervo's eyes and ears for em." The wings shrugged. He observed looking at the blank pages, "Hey you did real good man. I can't see any eraser marks or nothin. Muy bueno." Hey, wizarding seemed hard. Even they need a pat on the back for doing things well right? "I'm like what you call one of them mediums. Turns out that ain't a fashion ting which is good cause then everything'd be too big on me… yeah that'd suck. Anywyas like… ghosts and stuff they come around alla time with their problems. They can't help it though, ya know. They care about stuff and usually just want to make things right or understand what's goin on. It's scary but, ya know, they's just people." There was a tone of vague wariness, but the compassion he had for a bad situation seemed without limit. Some folks are brave in odd ways.
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