Comrades in Arms

Voices. Chatter. Incessant buzzing of teeth and tongues. Thats all that he could hear everywhere about him. They were not people, they were bickering dogs, their laughter hyena's crying to the moon. The snow fell outside in its quiet sheets, calm... and pure. Simple. Boots clicked against the floor as the light gleamed off of the blood red scythe sheathed upon the mans back, a black crow perched upon his right shoulder. His hands were hidden beneath black gloves, a long winter trench coat curling about his lean form.

The crow cawed at a particularly curious passerby, startling the man as its beady eye watched him warily. A hand came up and stroked those ebony feathers gently, tenderly. It was as if the chill of the outside have fallen over the hallway, and everyone had picked up upon it. This man held a presence that none could ignore, almost imposing yet... hidden. Paradoxes upon paradoxes.... The uniform he wore was immaculate in its appearance, not a thing was out of place. Not even his long black hair. But it was the crimson eyes that peered out that struck people the strongest. Was this man truly of their country?

It did not matter. Let them look on and wonder. Wonder about him and his presence. For now Zabulon was peering at the defenses from behind his low rank, wondering how their leader would take his application. He was determined to take over her role. He would do her, and his country, proud. He demanded it of himself, and those about him. He glanced to those around him, saluting when appropriate to his superiors. His prowling walk slowed as he came upon the quieter lounge area, glancing to the bookshelf upon the one wall. Well now, what did we have here?

The crow upon his shoulder cawed softly, peering about before it flew towards the window and perched upon the top of a chair, flapping its wings to stretch them. His eyes rested upon his feathered friend, nodding to her before he moved to the bookshelf to see what little delicacies there were there. Scanning, scanning... Posh! What was this? A slight frown curled the corners of his mouth, the displeasure of what he found quite clear. No matter, he would at least enjoy the quiet. He almost seemed to glide to a cushioned chair within the Southern HQ, sliding the holster of his scythe off to place it gently against the nearby wall. His trench coat glided off of his arms to be placed, folded, over the arm of his chair before he would sit down. Ahh... much better.

Snow fell from the sky slowly, moving downwards so elegantly and smoothly, like dancers from the heavens come to bless Drachma. One landed right on the nose of a man deep in thought. He opened his eyes slowly to look at it, moving his finger to lift it off his nose and up to his eye level. He stared at it for a while as if he could see the delicate pattern unique to it then bent down to place it on the floor with its fellow snow flakes.

He stood up and looked at the endless sky above him, at the snowflakes that would ever fall on his beloved country. "Too calm." He smiled, baring his sharp fangs onto the world, then turned to look at a man beside him. The man looked shocked at the menacing teeth, speechless and emitting pathetic sounds that sounded like they were coming from a child's mouth as opposed to that of a full grown man.

Viral chuckled then patted the fearful man on the back. "Don't worry comrade, we're on the same side remember? I won't do harm onto you." The man nodded and looked in front of him, still shaking from a mixture of cold and fear. Viral chuckled again, then turned around to walk into the Southern Headquarters slowly. His stride was elegant as opposed to his beastlike appearance, his back straight and his head held high.

He got many odd looks as he walked, something he had gotten used to since his transition to becoming a Chimera. People always focused on his hands, as they stood out the most of all. Sharp claws, oddly colored, different texture... All those things were definitely inhuman. Most people never asked why he was like that, they were always too afraid of him, including some of his superiors. But what did it matter? He is what he is now, even if he wasn't born that way. All that mattered to him was that it made him a much greater warrior as opposed to what he was like before, unable to keep up with even the weakest of people. He frowned as he thought of that time, the time when he was weak... The time when he was not worthy of his families praise, even though they often gave it to him for even making it into the army with his body. The weaknesses in his genetics... He had surpassed them, and if he could do that then what couldn't he do now? He smiled again as those thoughts entered his mind.

As he passed the lounge area he saw something odd at the corner of his eyes. He paused for a moment with a bemused look on his face, then stepped back to look at it again. What he saw was a crow on a man's shoulder. He stared for a few moments, appreciating the odd sight until the crow flew onto the window and snapped him out of the apparent trance he was in. He decided to investigate this sight further, curious for why the man had such an animal on his person.

He walked up to the man as he sat down on a chair with a book in his hand. He grabbed a stool and placed it down opposite the man, leaning forward as he began to speak in a rough yet strangely elegant voice. "Good day, comrade, how are you on this fine day?" He said with a wide grin across his face, revealing his menacingly sharp teeth. "I was passing by when I couldn't help but notice your bird... Quite an odd thing to have on your person isn't it?" He chuckled, somewhat menacingly. "But who am I to talk of oddness?" He blinked slowly. "I am Vicktor Viral, but you can call me Viral. It is a pleasure to meet you Mr...?"

Footsteps. He sighed, glancing over to his crow friend as she ruffled her feathers. Strangers were not her strong point. Clicking his tongue, he held out an arm, beckoning her forth. Clearly someone wanted to look.... Well well! The crimson eyes studied the chimerae who entered the room with intrigue. This was a different sight indeed. The claws, the difference of skin.... This man knew the stares. Just like Zabulon did. If not for different reasons of course. Olga gurgled, and flew over to her master, walking with impatience along his arm. Her claws hardly bothered him, she knew better than to fully grip down upon him.

Running his gloved fingers over her silky feathers, Zabulon observed as she walked up onto his shoulder once more, regarding this.... shark-man in agitation. Hardly surprising that she considered him a predator and a threat. The man looked like he would eat you. It was sort of amusing. Yet the deadpan expression did not leave his face, instead reaching into a pocket of his trench coat to pull out a small notebook. He had to write down what he observed of the defenses here. Call it habit. After all, she had trained him well.

"Good day, comrade...." So it speaks. And has sharp teeth. Truly he was a shark-man. It was good to see that he did not care how others saw him, good to see that he at least appreciated the power he must now wield. May he be responsible with it as well. And it kept speaking. Olga cawed at him as her agitation grew, two of his fingers touching her back to calm the savage beast. Turning his head slightly to look her in those black eyes, the crow did calm with that unspoken command from him. Aye, he wasn't one to speak of oddness at all. It was like calling the kettle black. Alliteration within his name.... Interesting.

It was only when he asked him for his name, did Zabulon raise his blood colored eyes to meet the gold of Vicktor Viral's. "Warrant Officer Zabulon Goncharova." He murmured in his low tenor, debating if he really wanted to answer his other questions. Aye, to be polite he should. Gesturing to his feathered friend, she seemed to consider his hand before peering up at this strange man before them. "This is Olga. She is my... companion." That was the best way to put it after all.

Once more he fell quiet, wondering if this man would stay or go. Few really liked to stay around him because he was so quiet and.... commanding. He didn't even mean to be right now. She had also taught him this, and now it was ingrained within him. Folding his hands into his lap, his gaze lowered from Viral in front of him, noting the fact that there was no military rank in front of his name. A freelancer then perchance. Did he deserve his trust? Or no? It was best to wait and see for now, for it was the man that mattered. Not necessarily his occupation or rank.

Viral's grin grew wider and wider till he seemingly was baring all his teeth at Zabulon. He emitted a strange sound that seemed to be a mixture of a chuckle and a growl, as if he was thinking of the various ways he could eat the person in front of him. He looked at Olga, still grinning, then leaned back. "Olga you say... Quite the name for a beast such as it is..." He chuckled menacingly, his eyes piercing into Zabulon as if he was testing him... Testing to see whether or not this person was a strong comrade or not.

He raised his hand up to his face, investigating tit with his piercing eyes. His hand revolved around till Viral had seen each and every inch of the hand, and more, he reason behind why he had done so wasn't apparent. It just seemed like something impulsive he had wanted. He moved his hand to the side so his eyes pierced Zabulon once again.

Sporadicly he jumped onto the stool he was sitting on with a blink of an eye, almost too quickly for normal eyes to see. His knees were on the same level as his stomach as he somehow managed to keep balance on the stool enough so that he did not fall off or cause it to fall over. His head tilted to the side as he continued to stare at Zabulon. "You're too quiet. It is annoying." He said, plainly speaking his thoughts of Zabulon to him. "The quiet... The calmness... It annoys me... So much."

He jumped backwards off the stool to land on his feet, the stool unmoving as if nothing had touched it."What's the matter with you? Cat, or Crow rather, caught your tongue? Or do I intimidate you?" He laughed menacingly. "Nearly everyone is intimidated by me... My lowers, my equals... Even some of my superiors... Maybe I'm just a scary person? Or is it my appearance?" He shrugged. "Probably... My appearance is... Odd. Most humans do not like odd stuff..." He bared his teeth again. "What do you think, Warrant Officer Zabulon Goncharova? Or has that crow of yours got your tongue again?"

Olga's response wasn't the most advisable in the least, for she almost lunged at this threat of a man before her if Zabulon had not stopped her by placing his arm in the way. Again, another unspoken command as man and bird looked at each other. Cawing with distaste, she flew up to the window and tapped the glass, glaring at Viral as she ruffled her feathers. Rising slowly, he unlatched the window and allowed her to fly free, knowing that they would find each other later. She could take care of herself. Now.... sharkman...

Turning back towards Viral, he met his piercing gaze head on, his own deadpan expression unaffected. Did he believe that he could intimidate him? Truly? So he held that gaze, the red of his eyes piercing right back at Viral. At least until that moment was broken, sitting back slowly into his chair, readjusting his pants with a very small tug. The creature before him was certainly interesting, but he could only wonder if Viral was so used to people being affected by his appearance, that he tried to goad people into giving some sort of reaction. If that were the case, he would find none here. Stares were something that he too was accustomed to.

But he could offer no answers unlike Viral whose answer was apparent. The fact that his animal features didn't cover his whole body caused him to wonder what generation he was. Certainly not first or second. And judging by the combination of claws and shark skin upon his hand, he probably wasn't a third generation either. So fourth or fifth then. Well now, where must he have gone for that.... No, it didn't really matter in the end. What mattered was that he was here, so he must feel a calling to his country just like everyone else. And for that, he did earn some respect. Zabulon's eyes lowered in thought, pondering what this man must do here.

It didn't last very long as the quick movement drew his gaze, raising a single eyebrow to his obvious statement. Why speak when it wasn't necessary to? Pollute the air with the breath of million, and somewhere a man is choking for lack of it. "A shame." He commented, his voice betraying neither sarcasm or apathy. It was even, as even as ever. So Viral was an impatient shark-cat man. A man of movement then, a man of action. Perhaps he would be the head of one of the headquarters. Or perhaps military operations and affairs. You had to be a person of action for that job certainly.

Zabulon observed as Viral was once again on his feet, a small chuckle leaving him as words were fired at him in rapid succession. He truly was very impatient. So he waited patiently. "Finished?" A rare smirk rose to his lips, leaning back in his surprisingly comfy chair. "The cat in you can't catch your tongue clearly. I choose to only speak when I feel it pertinent to." Fine, he would offer him words since he so desperately wanted them. "The different is misunderstood and cast aside. From there we rise and move on for the masses will never learn. They follow each other like blind sheep and even a kingly lion couldn't hope to lead them." His hands folded in his lap as his expression was suddenly deadpan once more. "No Vicktor Viral, you don't intimidate me in the least."