2020-10-20 Meet Mapa

Meet Mapa

Participants: Mapa and Bites-The-Hand

Location: Watson Junction - Harbor Region

Date and Time: Oct 20 2020

Summary: Marshmallows, but at what cost?

It's early evening in Watson Junction. A few spare humans on middle shift wander the streets as they make their way home, though most stick to the safety and relative ease of motor transport. The air is crisp and chilly, like the winter were considering an early visit this year. The motley assortment of residence styles and sizes cuts the streets into interesting patterns of shadow as the sun dips below the horizon.
For all there is to do and see in an industrial-residential neighborhood like this, what will end up drawing Bites-the-Hand once he wanders onto the block is likely to be the scent. Because there's kinfolk on the air. Gnawer kinfolk, at that. And what's more, whoever the scent is coming from smells, not just like kinfolk, but the most fecund kinfolk that Bites will have ever had the pleasure of smelling!

The trail, if he chooses to follow it, will lead him towards a little bungalo-style home, sat right next to the imposing brick edifice of a factory. The house has certainly seen better days, and very well might be on its way to collapse. The porch sags on one side. The roofing is half-way rotted away. There are piles and piles of trash sat beside it, far more than any municipal service could ever take in one day.

It would be putting it too strongly to say that Biter's been 'sent' here. That would imply that Uncle Raccoon had straight up asked him, which would imply that Uncle Raccoon was speaking in nice clear sentences. That's not how it works. All Biter knows is this: he woke up from a dream of a raccoon entangled in fishing line, being gnawed by tiny insects, and when he woke up, he felt the faintest stink of raccoon coming from the south. So. Here he comes.
Not that he minds. He's spent too much time cooped up in the bawn, hiding from the moon and the sun, listening to arcane garou rituals that he desperately wanted to understand and be part of, which he didn't and couldn't.
When he comes close enough, and catches that scent, he doesn't hesitate. A series of subtle hunches led him here, as though Uncle Raccoon was on his back, gently tugging him between the shoulderblades as he wandered farther south, steering him like a horse. The scent is a much better lead than trusting ghostly twinges in his back.
Biter, looking for all the world like just another stray dog, snuffles through the trash. It just feels like the sort of place Uncle Raccoon could stash an omen.

It won't take the shaggy lupus much time to figure out where the scent is coming from. There, piled beneath a few stuffed garbage bags that seem to have collapsed atop it during some sort of struggle, is a trap cage. A rather fancy one at that, made of shining steel with an excessively complicated lock. But that's not all he'll find.
There, inside the cage, is a raccoon. A very standard female raccoon, with the tawny undercoat beneath salt-and-pepper fur, black mask over her eyes, silver face and bushy, banded tail of any other raccoon. What is odd about this raccoon, however-- outside of the fact that she very clearly smells like Bone Gnawer kinfolk of a breeding completely unheard of by any living Garou-- is that she is crouched in the cage, huddled as far back as she can get with a giant-sized marshmallow clutched anxiously between her little hands... and a slack-jawed expression of fear on her face.

She can't take her eyes off the big dog, as she reaches out with one little hand for the bag her marshmallow came from, torn open on the cage floor before her. But she otherwise doesn't make a move, until the hunk of marshmallow in her mouth attempts to topple out, and she shuts it with a snap to avoid such an unacceptable loss of sugar!

Biter leans in close. His nostrils flare. His orange eyes drill in to you. Behind his lips lurk terror-teeth. His mouth smells of death, like he stopped to chase and kill something on the way here just for fun. Just as well you're in the cage, safe from this horrible, horrible dog.
He wheels around, checking for witnesses. Checking for windows. The coast isn't quite clear. He trots away, leaving you alone in your cage a moment...
...and soon, someone else returns. Not tall, but BIG, heavy with dense, woody muscle, lean and aggressive. His eyes are too wide, and don't blink as he reaches down in to the trash, grabs the whole cage, and hauls it backwards.

When the lupus leans in for a sniff, Mapa can't help herself but recoil backwards. Her hand retreats, dragging the torn bag of marshmallows close against her as she does her best to become one with the back of the trap. Her big, frightened eyes scan his face and muzzle as her chest rises in quick, panicked little breaths that huff from her nostrils as she anxiously clutches her marshmallow.
She could just about start shrieking in terror. But thankfully, the moment passes. She's left to contemplate her fate, and whether or not it was entirely worth the trouble. For the moment, at least, chewy sugar seems to be enough to mollify her.

When Bites returns in another guise, this time she can see him coming. She does her best to seem non-descript-- but it's no use! The vicious-looking human comes right for her and hauls her away! She scrambles in the cage, trying her best to claw her way out in a panic with one hand as she clasps tight to her bag of treats with the other!

The unsettling man (Biter) picks up the cage and holds it at eye level, easily handling the weight of Mapa and her captor. "Here to rescue you, trash girl," Biter says, giving the marshmallow a skeptical look. "Uncle sent me. We steal cage and you and candy. Will be ok." He tucks the cage under his arm like a football, and just starts walking down the street. Just another shoeless, shirtless, muscular homeless man with crazy eyes walking down the street in L.A. with his raccoon, right? Go post to Nextdoor about it if you don't like it.

All of Mapa's struggling stops, when he lifts the cage, and she can feel those terrifying eyes boring into her again. She lifts her head from the corner of the cage where she's been desperately trying to force her way out, snout-first, and looks over her raccoony shoulder at him to scan his features once more. A glimmer of recognition passes through her darkly-masked eyes before he even says those words of comfort, like maybe after a second look, she could recognize his features in the dog earlier.
But to hear them, sets her into a very different kind of frenzy! Her jaw slacks again, though this time a raspy chirrup of delight comes rushing out. She step-steps forward across the cage to stick her button nose through bars and give him a very thorough sniff-sniffing in return. Once she has, a soft, almost cat-like purr begins to ripple out of her. She happily settles back onto her haunches, and fishes another marshmallow out of the bag for the ride.

Biter covers ground quickly, jogging fearlessly across the sidewalk. Step on glass? Sharp rock? A sharp screw inexplicably just There on the ground? Shake any debris out of those feet and keep going, grow back like crab grass. Once he's confident he's made it far enough away from whoever caged you that he isn't going to have a pissed off human hollering about his stolen cage, he tries to tuck himself in to an alley that no one is having sex in or doing drugs in, and squats down to figure out what to do about this box you're in - because he does not want to carry you all the way back to fuckin' Skid Row.

It's quite a ride for a once-terrified little raccoon! Mapa chitters and chirrups with effusive graciousness as she munches happily on dainty raccoon-sized bites of the massive marshmallow clutched between her paws. Who knows what she's saying, but. She certainly seems happy to have some friendly company! She must've been trapped there for quite some time. Poor thing.

Once you've set her down in the alley, though, she seems just as at a loss as you are, about what to do with the cage. She carries her marshmallow in one hand as she paces back and forth between the back and front of the cage, then settles herself back down on her haunches with a huff. She makes a trilled sound of despair, then stuffs the rest of the marshmallow into her face to chew it. After a moment, she'll hesitantly reach into her bag for another, but instead of taking little bites of it, she does what she can to stuff it through the bars in offering.

As far as the cage is concerned, there don't appear to be many options. The latch is locked securely in place, and the door is likely not to move in any direction without the application of a key. The bars are sturdy, high-quality steel. Whoever set the trap must have been very ready to catch a raccoon!
However. One thing occurs, as you look at the cage. The soldering between the bars at the corners, well. That's surely weaker than the rest. Some blunt force might do the trick to crack it open. More force than any normal human could produce, but still.

Once, Biter would have turned in to a gigantic fucking wolf-monster and tried to tear the cage apart with his teeth, because that was How You Destroyed Things. Now, he's slightly smarter and has begun to understand basic concepts such as 'tools' and 'levers', and 'accidentally smashing the raccoon you are trying to rescue'.
"Okay. I am going to find strong steel, we twist and snap the cage apart. We get you out," he promises. And, of course, he gratefully accepts the marshmallow.
He picks up the raccoon again, toting her cage on his shoulder like a boombox, and goes looking for something suitable. It's surprisingly hard to find steel tools just lying around on the ground, but maybe he can find a dumpster he can use as a battering ram to carefully smash just the door, or... okay, right now that's his only idea.

Mapa would like very much not to be crushed! She might not know how grateful she is for the decision, but with how gracious she seems to merely have help in her dire circumstances, it might not make a difference. She'd still be chittering happily and eagerly munching down mouthfuls of sticky marshmallow. The plan brings a twinkle to her darkly masked eyes. She makes a trilly little noise of delight and nods her head as she lifts her marshmallow to her mouth. It will be entirely to her delight, to watch in awe and appreciation, as you do what you can to help. Her chewing slows as she nears the dumpster, but sure. She's willing to see it out!
She'll watch curiously, up until the moment you start to lift the cage-- at which point, she gets the idea, and stuffs herself (and her precious bag of treats!) up against the back of the cage. And prays.

Perhaps reassuringly, Biter is taking his time here. He isn't trying to do a running start. That's too sloppy, too easy to go wrong, and too much violence. Instead, he gently wedges the cage between the concrete wall of a nearby apartment block and the steel frame of a dumpster, so that it's in just the right spot. Could it still pinch the whole cage shut and crush you? Sure, if he fucked up real bad! But guess what: he doesn't.
That doesn't make the process dignified or quiet. He braces himself, putting his back against the dumpster and his heels against the rough asphalt of the alley floor, and HEAVES backwards, slamming himself back in to the dumpster again and again, grunting like a beast. Finally, he pulls it back about an inch, giving it space to pick up inertia before it slams in to the door... and finally, the cage buckles, the steel warping without breaking as the cheap chinesium welds fracture in to sharp edges. Mapa doesn't even get squeezed, let alone mooshed.

Whatever reassurance Mapa can take from the way Biter goes about breaking open her cage, is all she can get! It will have to do. She certainly doesn't seem relaxed, when he wedges the entrance to the cage between the dumpster and the wall. But the marshmallow in her little raccoony hands makes it into her mouth, before being squeezed to ribbons between her digits. So she must have some sort of hope.

But then, finally, after a few squeak-inducing moments of fright, it's over! She trills in /profound/ delight and relief, when the cage door clatters free. She'll scoop her bag of marshmallows up against her, and carry it out of the cage, chittering and chirruping-- until the moment she steps outside of the cage, anyway. Then, she's there on the ground, with nothing between her and the large, intimidating Garou.
For a few moments, she is silent there beside the dumpster, standing on her hind legs with the marshmallows clutched against her belly. She chews once, then twice-- and then, the raccoon is suddenly gone. In her place, stands a small young woman, just a few inches above five feet tall, with a tangled mass of fluffy black hair and far, far too much makeup. But that, outside of the primitively constructed napsack slung about her shoulders, is all she has on!

She'll stare at you for a few moments with wide, searching eyes as she forces herself to swallow what's left of the marshmallow in her mouth. She recoils against the cold wall, then stuffs one hand into the bag of treats, to extract a handful. She blinks down at them, then thrusts the bag in your direction. "... do you want some?" She wonders, in a terribly timid voice. But there's no denying that this is the same creature, given her rather remarkably cloying scent.

Biter is perhaps refreshingly disinterested in Mapa's nudity, but he is *very* interested in the marshmallows. He gladly, and wordlessly, plucks the bag from her hand, and pops one in to his mouth. He looks over his shoulder, at the entrance to the alley, then flips open the dumpster to see if maybe someone threw out some pants or a shirt or something, maybe something that just happened to fit Mapa? He would be so lucky.
"Going in to cage, not smart," he says, rummaging through the garbage with one hand. "You lucky Uncle Raccoon sent me." He closes the dumpster, turns to you, returns the bag, and jerks a thumb at his chest. "Bites-the-Hand. You?"

Mapa doesn't seem to notice one way or the other, how much attention Biter pays to her nudity. She doesn't seem terribly uncomfortable about it herself. But maybe the adrenaline just hasn't worn off yet-- or maybe, she's too busy wondering if she should have given him the handful of marshmallows clutched in her fingers, rather than the whole bag! She pouts at it when he takes it from her, but smiles to watch him take one.
It won't be until he flips open the dumpster, that she seems to realize the issue. "Oh!" She squeaks and then crumples down to a squat to where the bin can hide her from prying eyes. Her napsack gets shrugged off her shoulders next, and set on the ground before her where she can rifle through it.

"I'm Mapache Mapache Mapache!" She beams up at him as she repeats the word 'raccoon' in Spanish three times. But that must be what serves as her name. After another moment, she extracts a worn, black sweater dress from her satchle and starts working her arms into it.
"Are you, uhm..." She blinks up at Bites, as she momentarily disappears behind the dress as she slips it over her head. "Are you... lost?" She wonders, in an entirely genuine tone. Perhaps even a bit hopeful.

Biter recoils as though struck, his expression contorting in rubberfaced astonishment. "Am _I_ lost?" He turns and speaks to the moon: "Cage girl asks if _I'm_ lost." He turns his gaze back to the girl, reassured that she is, in fact, not bare-ass naked in the winter cold where humans might see. "No, not lost, cousin Mapache. Came to help you. Uncle Raccoon sent me." He scratches under his throat, eats another marshmallow. "How you get caught? Why you in Los Angeles where Bone Gnawers piss?"
He picks up the cage, wondering what to do with it. He drops it back in the dumpster after an indecisive moment. Clang!

Not that her sweater dress, wide-knit and riddled through with holes as it is, does much to preserve any real sense of decency, but Mapa seems comfortable enough with it as a solution. She'll stand up and sling her napsack back over her shoulders once she's wriggled it down over her hips-- then shrink back against the wall with a startled squeak.
"I, uhm--!" She mewls. Her lip bundles into a pout. Her eyes tremble as they scan his face, then avert down to her handful of marshmallows as her shoulders slump forward in defeat. "Oh good. That's-- that's good, I mean." Her voice carries tones of regret and apology in equal measure, but she'll be smiling again, when she lifts her eyes back to Bites' face.

"Oh just, uhm..." The matter of how she got caught, however, brings a smattering of blush to her cheeks! "Just wanted some marshmallows." She confesses in a quiet voice. "I thought I could fish them out-- it doesn't matter." She gives her silver-streaked head a shake and flutters with a mellifluous giggle. "I was born here!" She declares with glee. "Why? Should I be somewhere else?" She wonders as she lifts her fistful of marshmallows to her mouth, and plucks one off with her lips so she can draw it and chew.

Biter snorts, rolls his eyes... but eyes the marshmallows with clear appetite. Maybe he doesn't _respect_ your decision to go for the marshmallows... But that doesn't mean he doesn't _get_ it. "...You born on four legs?" he ventures. A human-born would have turned back, used their hands, their long arms - but someone like him, born on four legs... ...He could see himself making the same mistake, honestly. "Being here is fine. Good place," he says brightly. "Crazy place," he mutters darkly, in the same breath. "You have burrow? Warm hidden dark place no humans for rest? Or you wander?"
He finally pegs to the degree of anxiousness he's causing with his presence, his physicality. He leans back against the opposite wall, drops down to a squat, and tosses you the bag of marshmallows in an easy underhand.
"I am named Bites-the-Hand, of Garou, dogborn of Bone Gnawer father. Didn't know changers like you were."

It's true. If Mapa had been thinking like a human, she probably would have just upended the cage and dumped the bag of marshmallows onto the floor! But the world is a much different place, when one is the size of a large housecat. She'll confirm his suspicions with a shallow nod and a mumbled hum of, "Uh-huh," from beyond her mouthful of marshmallow. But then she goes right back to watching him with those huge, kohl-rimmed eyes of hers.
Up until the moment he tosses the bag at her, anyway! She squeals in horror and stumbles forward as she swipes for it. It impacts the ground by her feet. A few marshmallows go tumbling out-- but it's far from the mallow apocalypse she feared, so she crouchs down across the way from him, and gathers her precious marshmallows against her chest.

"I have a bur-r-r-row!" She chirrups with a trill of delight to be able to say so, and a flash of a bright smile. "Uhm," Which bundles itself away as she peers out towards the end of the alley and gives the air a sniff. "That way." She points, then lowers her hand to her mouth to take another marshmallow from her little fist.
She'll chew long and hard over his full introduction, then swallow down her mouthful before saying anything about it. Though its likely not out of any sense of politeness. "I'm a raccoon." She declares, like she assumes that should be enough to explain her circumstances.

"No one tells you anything," mutters Biter, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Okay. Litany rule number whatever: The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted. This poor dumb raccoon girl is going to get herself killed, in the best case, or shift where someone can see, in the worst case. It is time to Be Helpful.
"You are not just raccoon. You human also now," he says, sympathetic to her plight. "There are old laws for you, for this. Come with me. I take you to our burrow. You learn law." A beat passes as he contemplates how to sweeten the deal. "We have many snacks and treats. We get you ice cream pie," he promises, making his best attempt at an inviting face. Come, raccoon child! Join me in my underground lair. We have candy. You've walked in to one cage in search of candy, why not go for two? Working out fine so far, after all!

The truth is that Mapa might know more than she has the words to communicate. That much might be clear in the way her smile bundles itself away in favor of a pout, and the way her big, gray eyes avert, when he tells her she's also kinda-sorta, a human now. "Well they didn't tell me about /laws/." She mewls in a frustrated little voice. Whoever 'they' is, she won't elaborate. Not yet, anyway. Not when there's an offer of treats and snacks on the table!
"I like trea--" She freezes in place, and recoils down against the wall as her eyes go wide and trembly again. "Another cage?" She wonders, like she doesn't quite believe it. "I don't want to go into another cage." She protests as her pout trembles, then gives her silver-streaked head a little shake as though to double-down on the assertion.

Biter isn't exactly overflowing with charm and grace, here; if there's someone in the sept who's more poorly equipped to sweet-talk a reluctant young woman in to the sept, he couldn't name them. So he doesn't push it. "No cage, just burrow. Uhhhm... ...You come to burrow, you stay _outside_ the burrow. I bring laws and treats to you. Or," he says, "We split, if you want. I'm not your mom. You just be careful, be wise, be safe?" He spreads his hands, indicating openness, a reluctant shrug. "But... good teachers in our burrow. Warm, dry, food," he says, counting off advantages. "Strong spirits. But... If you don't want ice cream pie, ok."

Mapa will munch on another marshmallow as she watches Bites across the alley with her huge, darkly masked eyes. And then another, as she contemplates the offer that's been made. One that she admittedly, doesn't quite fully understand. But in the end, she won't need more charm and grace than he has to offer her, to be convinced about it. There's just something about the Gnawer's presence, that puts her at ease.
"I'm confused." She mewls in utter honesty, as she pads one hand up the side of the dumpster and works herself to standing. "But okay. I'll come." She even smiles to declare it, then adds casually as she begins to pace around the alley on her bare feet, "I'm supposed to help, I think."

"Help is good. Much is fucked," he says, getting to his feet, twisting and stretching. "But... Still have snacks, not all bad. You become small, ride my back. Faster that way," he says, taking a quick look around to make sure no one is watching. He twists in on himself, bones getting crunchety-poppity as he collapses back to dog-shape. He can't promise no one will notice a raccoon riding a dog, but he suspects it won't be a problem if they do. If you can't be secret, be funny.

It won't take much convincing, to get Mapa to stop her pacing, and step against the wall behind the dumpster again, where she wriggles right back out of her wide-knit sweater dress. She'll go about stuffing it into her leather napsack, then sling it back over her shoulders. She blinks... straight ahead, at the massive dog, still tall enough to dwarf her even in her human guise, then hooks her thumbs into the straps of her napsack, and steps forward.
She'll blink down at him, then step around to the side, and sling one naked leg over his back! "Okay. Ready for a ride to cream pies now." She declares, just a moment before he'll feel her weight vanish atop him, to be replaced by the desperate clinging of little raccoony hands.

The dog squirms uncomfortably beneath the human - raccoon hands he can deal with. Human hands he cannot. But it's fine - she becomes small before she grabs. And so, the dog scampers off north, toting a tiny parcel of confused raccoon on a sugar high of to her destiny, and to pastry.