2015.09.18 - Happy Tree Friends

*The Nemeton calls all sorts of beings..*

2015/09/18

The Nemeton, Wildlife Preseve, Beacon Hills

Still fairly early in the day Lockie fades into existance in front of the Nemeton, took him a while to feel the thing out but here he is, he's been told this thing is pulsing with enough power to help with a spell of his, which can hopefull tell him whats wrong with him and stop it. Kneeling down in front of the Nemeton he pulls incense, magic sand and various tailismans out of his bag.

Michael Carpenter is already here.

The man, with his salt and pepper beard, work clothes and toolbelt, kneels at the edge of the clearing atop the hill. He might appear to be praying, but for now he is sifting dirt through his calloused fingertips as he studies the ground.

A few moments pass before he realises that there is someone in front of the Nemeton, and he lets whatever is left of the dirt fall to the ground before standing up. He brushes his hands semi-clean on the thighs of his jeans and lifts his chin.

"I didn't hear you come up the track," he calls out to Mitchell in a neighbourly tone, and slowly walks forward.

When the early morning light starts to come over the horizon, the moon illuminates the cloud cover on the other side; the footsteps of another person break the silence on the pathway. Tamamo did not really intend to go here; it had just been some kind of pull she followed. Dressed in Jeans, T-Shirt and a short jacket from artificial leather, the young woman carries the sandals she had worn in her car. The bare feet create a wet sound on the moist floor.

Sleep was nearly impossible for Shane the night before. He kept dreaming of being called. Not quite called. Pushed. But not quite that, either. Something made him restless and nervous and finally, unable to rest, he left early and went for a dawn run in the woods. That made the sensation even more acute. It was like following the ghost of a trail for him. His feet found their own way, running away from town and school, but seemingly towards where he \*needed\* to go. And so it was that he found the clearing with the few people already in it and the giant tree. That feeling of being pulled fades, but there is something like ozone in the air, literally raising the hair on the back of his neck like static before a storm. Of the strangers, the only one he recognizes is Lockie, as he wanders closer, looking a little dazed in his jogging pants and Beacon Hills High t-shirt, backpack with more appropriate clothing slung behind him.

Lockie Mitchell looks around when Michael speaks to him, there’s a look of desperation in his eyes before he forces himself to slip into his usual unshakeable facade, "Just light of my feet", he starts quickly slipping the things back into his bag, he's not quite notice the other two, though even with one other person here his plans are thrown off.

Michael frowns slightly - curious as to the youth's reaction to him - but seeing no evidence of anything other than a startled teenager...putting arcane items into a backpack, he nods his head a little and continues his approach to the tree.

The carpenter opens his mouth to address the young man a second time, when he espies the arrival of two others - Tamamo and Mitchell. His frown returns again and he gives the tree a long, hard look. "It's still doing it," he murmurs aloud - probably enough to be heard by those nearby - and turns around, scanning the woods at the edge of the clearing. "But if us, then what else?"

"Hi kids," he calls out to the two most recent arrivals. "It's early - what brings you to this place?" The tone is light, friendly - slightly 'parenty' - and curious, and the glance he gives Mitchell would suggest it is directed at him as well.

While Tamamo was mostly looking like taking a stroll, the call out to her make her twitch a moment, the shoes in her hand getting shaken as she starts to go into a basic defensive stance and then aborts the move even before it really began. The nude feet carry the young woman forward as the seaweed green eyes focus on the man that called out for her. "Just moved my car and now my legs for a walk."

Blinking and standing up a bit more straight at that hint of authority in the older man's voice, Shane wanders closer to the tree. He can feel something. Like the pull he had to the others in the clinic when he woke but different. Like he's sensed a few times from people after he .... changed. His mind balks at thinking 'was killed'. It's strong, but not the same. He reaches out hesitantly, as though planning on touching the bark but slightly worried about doing so and then, with an almost dream-like lassitude, he answers the question with a question, "Don't you feel that?" And then, shaking his head, he focuses on Michael and stops. "Um, sorry? Am I trespassing?" And as the young woman speaks, he quickly lowers his hands, holding on to the straps of his backpack and trying to pretend he didn't say anything as he backs up a bit, so he can comfortably see all of them.

Lockie Mitchell gets to his feet muttering something about camping, he watches as someone walks past him to go and touch the tree, "You're that kid Shane", odd him calling the other boy a kid, even removing the coma thing they're both biologically the same age, he looks round at the voice of the young woman, oh joy a crowd of three.

Michael's first response is to the girl, nodding his head while still displaying a muted frown on his brow. "The woods are good for that," he replies to her when she's a bit nearer - and then murmurs much more softly: "At least, they were..." He glances up at the sky - grey with clouds - and back down again at the three teenagers.

The question asked by Shane Welles elicits a narrow stare from the man of the Cross. Glancing meaningfully at Lockie Mitchell, Michael lets out a breath through his nostrils and nods his head. The frown on his brow deepens, leaving his features etched with concern. "My name's Michael - Michael Carpenter," he tells all three youths. "And you really shouldn't be here; it's not safe."

"Were?" Tamamo asked, her bare feet taking her forward to the likewise bare soil around the tree. "It doesn't feel particular dangerous here. And neither looks like that. Are you some kind of warden to this forest, Mister Carpenter?"

Shane Welles grins at Lockie and shrugs. He doesn't mind being called a kid. It wasn't quite so pejorative back in his day. "You seem to be out in these woods a lot! Um... I don't think I got your name, sorry." And then, at the adult's warning, he gives the man a closer look, eyebrows going up when he catches the man's worried expression. He can't help but try to smother a grin at the thought of being in danger. That really hasn't been a concern of his since the first time he fell off a cliff after waking up, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Carpenter. I'm Shane Welles. What's not safe out here?" His tone is remarkably polite and diffident for a modern teenager. Maybe he's Amish or something. He glances sideways at Tamamo and nods slightly. It really doesn't feel dangerous. Fascinating, yes. Exciting, definitely. But not dangerous.

Lockie Mitchell looks to Shane "Oh right, manners, I'm Lockie", the English teen raises an eyebrow at Michael when he calls the area dangerous, of course it is, anywhere with power is dangerous and this place is practically humming with power. Also to be completely honest, he doesn't remotely care about being in danger lately anything that can stop what’s happening to him is a pro as far as he's concerned.

Michael looks from Tamamo to the tree and then back to her again. He smiles kindly, his azure eyes gently gleaming with a combination of paternal care, and the faintest sheen of benign amusement at the words 'warden of the forest'. The amusement subtly fades, leaving only simple concern behind, and Michael extends the expression also toward Mitchell and Welles with a simple turn of his head, as he replies:

"Some bad things happened here, not so long ago." He takes a breath and steps up to the tree, resting a hand lightly against it. He is nearest to Mitchell, now. "I stop by every so often, to keep an eye out." He gives a brief smile and adds. "I'm pleased to meet you - Lockie," and he nods at the youth, " - Shane - " followed by a second nod. Finally he shifts his attention back toward Tamamo.

"I'm sorry, miss - I didn't catch your name." The vibe or 'thrum' in the air pulses, for those able to feel it - like ripples flowing inward, instead of out. With each pulse, Michael's eyes flicker toward the centre, only to have him scan the trees again beyond the clearing.

"I didn't yet mention it. Abe no Tamamo." She doesn't care that it is the japanese order and not the american, even if she has grown up here. It was just so much more pretty that way than Tamamo of Abe. A long a, short e, unlike Abe Lincoln. "And what might those bad things be? It is just about the right time of the night to tell the haunting ghost stories that young children fear in summer camp."

There is a definitely goofy grin on Shane's face as he points at the Nemeton and says to Lockie, "You found your tree!" And then, at Michael's words, he takes a prudent step back from the tree. He's seen enough horror movies to know that the words 'bad things happened here' never lead to anything good. He glances between Mr. Carpenter and the tree, looking a little worried. "Bad things?" His tone suggests that he's both curious and apprehensive about the potential answer. His eyebrows go up again at Tamamo's words and tone, with a visible, 'Whoa!' expression on his face. That's a lot of sass in a little package.

Lockie Mitchell crouches walks over and crouches down to pick up some earth from the base of the tree fully intending to use it in a spell to see the 'bad thing' that occured there, then he reminds himself there’s three normal people around and a spell like that isn't exactly subtle, "Yes, I found my tree", sighing he drops the earth, human are a bother.

"We don't tell ghost stories in our house, Miss Abe," Michael replies to girl with a shake of his head - putting just the slightest touch of emphasis upon the word 'stories'. There is very little reproach in his voice; it is a simple statement...for the most part.

Hearing Shane's 'goofy' remark to Lockie, Michael lifts his chin and regards the latter fellow with puzzlement. "*Your* tree?" he asks while watching the handful of earth fall to the ground from Lockie's hand. There's a question in the man's face: *just what were you planning on doing here, young man?* it asks, wordlessly.

The subtle flicker of his eyes toward Tamamo might reveal that she is the reason Michael does not ask the question aloud. Movement in the trees, swift and furtive - too far back from the clearing to show itself (at least to Michael) - draws his attention away and he glances sharply over Tamamo's shoulder.

"A pity we don't, because the ghost tales are especially well told when in a spooky place where a spirit might be present..." It might be a statement of just another mystic-fan, but it carried a tad more significance than obvious. Then a slight sound caught Tamamo's ears, and she does step sideways two steps, just enough to open the way she had blocked earlier. "After all a ghost might just come to visit and want to listen. I heard they are nosy."

Shane Welles looks towards Lockie. It had just occurred to him to ask the question himself. What do you do with a giant tree, unless you're a squirrel or a lumberjack? He opens his mouth to agree with that question and then catches that sharp look from Michael and turns in place. It's obvious that doesn't have a lot of subterfuge in him as his expressions tend to be easily read. And this is no exception as his curious and confused look is plain. From outside the clearing, in the deep green shadows of the woods, he can catch just a glimpse of movement. A hint of night-dark fur. And then, almost like lights being snapped on, a pair of orange-yellow eyes, almost certainly glowing, to be visible in that shade at this distance. About that time, the wind shifts and the scent reaches the four people near the tree. Like old blood, rotting meat and molded fur.

Shane's voice is almost steady as he says, quietly, "Um, Mr. Carpenter? Did your 'bad things' involve, you know, maiming and rending?" He's suddenly very glad to be wearing his track shoes.

Lockie Mitchell looks to Michael, "Was looking for a landmark to camp by, seemed the best choice", he looks in the direction the others are looking and when he spots the glowing yellow eyes fades out and reappears higher up in the Nemeton's branches at a safer distance figuring the others were to distracted to see him vanish, might be interesting to see how this plays out.

The flash of fur in the woods - the metallic scent of blood mingled with... death - is more than enough to incite Michael Carpenter to action. "Unfortunately, yes," he replies to Shane, taking a few strides away from the Nemeton. If he has noticed Lockie's sudden departure, he gives no sign of it - in fact, his attention is entirely upon the treeline. The smell of the creature elicits an expression of disgust from him, followed by grim determination.

He stops only when he has effectively put himself between the teenagers (that's including Shane), and whatever it is that lurks in the trees, and raises his voice to speak. When he does, a 'thrum' of power from *him* joins the 'music' of the Nemeton:

"I am Michael, Knight of the Cross and servant of the Most Holy," he calls out. "These children are under my protection; come no closer or face the wrath of God." As if in response, a flock of birds over to Michael's right make a break for the sky - and an additional shadow approaches the clearing:

Large, shaggy, with two long horns curing upward into perilously sharp points... and a goat's head. It is visible only for a moment, and then ducks behind another tree. It too has a...distinctive odour: something crossed between a skunk - and rotten eggs.

As Lockie fades into the tree, Tamamo gains a slight grin on the face, her fingers moving in a tiny circle as if to hint she had seen him. The gesture was however intended to create a tiny illusion, but then Michael dashes forward and screams he would be a protector and she drops the charm before it is completed. Instead, she turns to step back more, towards the Nemeton.

Claiming to be a warrior of a god, especially the christian in the presence of Tamamo was just about giving her an idea. When the crows flee and the smelling monster steps upon the clearing, white light bursts out from under Michael's greatcoat, then a pair of slots seem to open on the back of it and a pair of white wings, completely made from shining light emerges from them, casting harsh shadows all over the place.

Shane Welles's head swivels to look at Michael, wide-eyed, as he senses the power in the man. Again, not quite like what he's experienced before, but definitely there. But the fact that there are now two bad things out there distracts him. He watches the adult put himself between himself and danger and for a moment that will shame him deeply later, he honestly considers just running. But out of all of them, Shane is pretty sure he's the one with the best chance of living through being attacked by, um, monsters. Not beating them, but distracting them so the others can run. Which is about the time Mr. Carpenter grows wings of light.

The arc light illumination is so stark and bright that it banishes the shadows around the first creature. It looks to have been a bear, once. When it was alive. But now it seems to be a shambling, rotting hulk of a bear, with random-seeming growths of bone and spine poking out from the matted, black fur and a muzzle full of fangs that are too long for any normal animal. In response to the declaration from the knight, it roars, the sound shivering leaves off the surrounding trees and seeming to shake the very earth and air, and then starts to charge.

Lockie Mitchell looks down at the scene and frowns as he realises the girl saw him, then suddenly the old guy is calling himself their champion or something and sprouting wings, it's different enough that it merits a "huh" from Lockie before turning his attention back to the bear, "Did you call that? some sort of protective tree thing?", yeah, he's talking to the Nemeton.

The burst of light surprises Michael; if one could see his face, the sudden lift of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes would be apparent... but it does not distract him. The sudden angelic raiment - complete with... wings? - that elicits a more demonstrative response.

With profound disapproval, Michael murmurs, "Christ preserve. If Harry were here..." and then his mind refocuses upon the matter at hand. Without his sword, he instead reaches for a chain around his neck and draws forth a simple, silver crucifix. He glances sharply to his right - at the goat-faced Gruff - and calls over his shoulder at the others behind him. "Watch our flank - more may come."

And with that, he walks toward the undead bear - silver cross held before him and rebuking the creature in fluent Latin. Each word echoes like a hammer striking a gong. The Gruff, thoroughly agitated, roars and breaks into a run... at Lockie.

A little chuckle emits from Tamano's throat as she adds a few things to the illusion, the Nemeton seemingly starting to bend and twitch as it seems to stretch out for the trees around, which in turn begin to grow rapidly and form some sort of solid hedge. Or at least seem to do so, as if isolating the place. "Watch out!"

Given that Lockie is up in the branches of the tree, Shane finds himself between the charging goat-man and Lockie himself. And the young-looking immortal's lack of combat experience is immediately obvious as he freezes, dead in the creature's path as it lowers its head, picking up speed as it goes.

 By the time Shane seems to shake off his shock, the time to act is long past. The impact is loud enough to be heard (and felt) even over the bear's roars and Michael's chanting. For Shane, the experience is remarkably like being hit by a bus. Again. He can feel ribs snapping and then the dig of a sharp-pointed horn into his gut, piercing the skin with an almost 'popping' sensation. And then with a toss of its head, the Grimm flings Shane up and over its head, sending his limp body flying through the air to slam into the ground several yards away from the Nemeton. The contorted, boneless way he lands does not bode well.

The undead bear, on the other hand, is having much less luck in its attack. The prayers of the knight seem to hit the beast like waves of pressure, visibly flaying decaying hide and fur from the undead monster and slowing it to a crawl as muscle and bone start to boil and burst. Still trying to roar, the bear digs huge claws into the turf, trying to get closer to the angelic-seeming man, all the while being withered and blasted by the power of that prayer.

Lockie Mitchell sighs as Shane is attack, he kind of liked the boy but it can't be helped now, fading from the tree he appears on the ground and pulls an atheme out of his bag and throws it at the undead beast, using his telekinesis to put some force behind it and keep his aim true, trying to ignore the niggling little feeling popping up again, guilt?

"NO!!"

The bellow of anguish from Michael causes the effects of his 'battle-prayer' to spike, and then cease as faith gives way to dismay...and grief. Dropping the silver cross from his hand, it is a *father's* face - not a knight's - that turns around to look at the lifeless form of Shane on the ground, just as Lockie's attack claims the 'unlife' of the ravaged bear.

Whereas there had been a vibe - steady, powerful - from the man a few moments ago, now there is silence... except for the sound of heavy breathing and feet striking the ground as he runs toward the Gruff. There are already tears in Michael's eyes - for a boy that was someone's son, if not his own - tears that quickly give way to determination.

The illusions surrounding the Nemeton are given only  a cursory glance, but he then looks at Tamamo as he passes by. The Gruff sees her as well, and shaking its head - sending droplets of Shane's blood flying about the clearing - it charges her, just as Michael charges it.

As the beast starts charging towards the Japanese girl, she smirks. The distance is covered in a moment and the angelic shine of Michael weakens a tad, as Tamamo barely is avoids the first slash, ducking just enough. Droplets of blood fall upon her leather imitate jacket and face, forcing her face to go sour. The second onslaught by the claws goes right from up to down, and moment it seems that it will hit the body right into the chest, but just a split second before contact, there is a shade of orange where the girl had stood a moment before and the claw tear into the ground. Like an orange haze, the shade moves away and up the Temeton, where it stops in the shape of a fox, the eyes glowing like burning magnesium while the feet are surrounded by likewise ghastly flames. "That was my most favourite jacket!" The voice is somewhat shrill, but it reminds of Tamamo and it comes for sure from the fox.

Horror.

Relief.

Having already suffered a gut-wrenching blow to his faith, the source of his power, Michael moves just that bit slower as he races toward the Gruff. Seeing how it reached Tamamo before he could intercept - how it came so close to ending HER life, seemingly - before she spirited herself away... conflicting emotions run hot within the man.

The knight barely notices the final moments of the undead bear, as he spots the magical flame-attack from Lockie converging upon the Gruff before him. Sensing the Fae creature's imminent demise, Michael skids in the dirt to a stop, landing on one knee in the dirt. Dipping a hand into his pocket, he pulls out a small coin of pure iron...

And throws it at the Gruff's face - a last ditch distraction.

Seeing the red flames by the Firestarter inbound on the Gruff, and then the coin flung at the head of it, the Fox that is Tamamo leaps up into the air, and into something akin to a barrel roll, turning the face down at the Monster. A sharp, high pitched barking, sound escapes the open mouth of Tamamo, electric white fire gathering in her throat before a stream of it pours down in a zigzag movement almost like lightning towards the Gruff. Sparks leash out from the unsteady bolt and make the air smell of ozone even more. As the coin passes one of the branches, some of the electric hits it and turs the tumbling black into a glowing white, pure iron ball that sings and burns itself into the fur of the gruff, just before the foxfire hits the monster, the amalgam of magical flames and electricity doing its worst on the beast.

As the stream eventually hits the monster, the fox in the air jerks the tail forward, once more spinning up as it descends like any normal being. While Tamamo falls, the other illusions start to fade, the trees untangling and the angelic wings vanishing.

Fire.

Lightning.

Cold Iron.

As Michael looks up, flames from above wash over the Fae 'footsoldier', setting its already-malodorous fur ablaze. The stench is almost overpowering, and the creature opens its mouth in a roar of agony as it turns to escape the inferno.

It turns straight into the white fire of Abe no Tamamo, that catches it squarely in its chest moments after the superheated iron coin melts through flesh and bone to disappear somewhere inside the Gruff's skull. Steam geysers from its eyes a second before they vaporise, followed by twin gouts of red and white.

It falls to its knees, looses a final whimper... and expires.

Michael, breathing heavily, turns from the fallen creature to look at Tamamo, the up at Lockie, and finally...at the lifeless body of Shane. Then, he simply hangs his head.

Tumbling to the ground is not a girl, but the Fox Tamomo, rolling over the ground several yards before the roll ends, the legs sprad and the tail lifted. The eyes still glow, as a last angry bark emerges from her before she tries to gather composture again, the fox sitting down on the hindlegs, sitting upright and shaking the head to the left once, as if to get hair in order. Moments pass as the fox seems to yawn, the eyes closed, and then a ray of the sun falls through the cloud cover. Like it was a dream fading, the body of the fox seems to dissolve, and gets replaced by the sitting Tamamo. "What in Yomi was that!?"

Lockie Mitchell seems to have finally stopped hitting himself in the head but is now at a loss for what to do, why the hell does this kids death bother him? what is the point of guilt and why won't it go away, he moves Shane into a sitting position against the Nemeton to see if it makes himself feel better.

"A Gruff," Michael replies without looking up just yet. A moment passes before he actually raises his head, and climbs to his feet. A hand goes to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose between his eyes; he squeezes them shut for a second, letting two unshed tears fall to the ground.

He looks at Tamamo.

"A footsoldier of the Fae, usually." And finally he turns toward Lockie... and Shane's body. "There's nothing you can do," he calls out to Lockie. "I'm sorry." With that, the knight walks over to where he dropped his crucifix, bends down to pick it up, and - gripping it tightly in his hand - walks to Shane's side.

When Michael reaches the boy, he has his cellphone out, hits speed-dial and puts the phone to his ear. "Hello," he says in a hollow voice. "I'd like to speak to Detective Murphy, please. ...It's Michael."

Between one instant and the next, the dead body ... isn't. Shane's eyes snap open and he presses back against the tree, sucking in a deep, gasping breath like somebody coming up for air after a long, long dive. His hand goes up to his t-shirt, still wet with his blood and he sighs as he feels smooth skin under the rip. His eyes are unfocused for a long moment as his brain and body reboot and after a moment, he slumps and groans at the memory of pain and dying. He looks around and asks, his voice rough and ragged, "Did we win?"

...and the body moves, without thinking Lockie pulls his arm back and aims a punch at Shane's jaw. Why does he do this? Zombie fear? Annoyance at thinking he maybe played a prank? Maybe he's just a dick? for whatever reason this is the action Lockie has chosen to take.

Slowly standing up, Tamamo was about to comment on the dead body when it starts to move. Not a zombie, those were in a less well shape usually. pointing at the body she had seen getting torn apart, she smirks "A Wiederganger!" Time for the Knight to get his blade out...

Michael drops the phone.

Whether or not the call makes it through to Karrin Murphy remains unclear as he leave the phone on the grass, and quickly kneels down beside Shane. A gesture is made to sort of placate Lockie... but it lacks conviction.

Also, it's too late.

"Wait," Michael tell Tamamo as he stares at Shane's face; the wonder and concern he feels is evident in his eyes - and his frown. Without further explanation - and certainly without giving Shane a chance to do anything about it - Michael suddenly grips Shane's arm with his left hand, then presses the crucifix firmly (maybe painfully) against the youth's forehead, murmuring something in Latin.

Now, at last, the area hums again - with the knight's power joining the chorus of everyone else's... including the Nemeton itself, and even Lockie's dissonant notes in the mix.

Shane Welles barely has time to register the movement before he's hit. He jerks his head back and manages to get punched in the cheek and lip rather than the jaw and hit the back of his head against the rough bark of the Nemeton. He sees stars momentary and then brings his free hand up to his bleeding mouth while giving all three of them a wide-eyed, frightened look. "OW! Stop hitting me! You jerk!" And then, "And a wieda-what? I don't think I'm ... what is that?" He looks up at the cross the big man (angel?) is holding to his forehead, going crosseyed and trying not squirm. "Um, I don't think I'm evil. At least I hope not." But he watches closely, just to make sure. Because honestly, he has no idea why he keeps coming back. And then, a little more waspishly, "So, if you have time to beat me up, I guess we did win?"

Lockie Mitchell gestures with a hand in an attempt to telekineticly knock Michael and his crusifix out of the way, something about it just bothers him, then to Shane, "Prick", before standing up and stepping away.

Tamamo exhales sharply on the comments before she pulls up her sleeve a bit to look at the watch. "I don't have time for someone playing dead. I want to be back in San Francisco by 10... so I better be going. Ane if you ever, really ever mention this incident... some people will not be pleased..."

At this moment, Michael is a rock.

The telekinetic shove is certainly felt - but it washes over the praying man as he removes the crucifix from Shane's forehead, makes the sign of the cross with his hand, and then puts the item into his pocket. Looking up and across at Lockie, Michael says nothing, but his eyes narrow and he forms a thin line with his lips.

A moment later, he releases a held breath and nods to Tamamo. "I understand," he replies gravely. "But prepare yourself just in case there are forces out there...who already know. Go with God, Miss Abe - and thank you." He gives the back of Lockie's head a look. "You too, Lockie. We'll talk again soon..."

Finally, the knight looks at Shane. "Yes," he replies to the previously-dead fellow. "We won."

Shane Welles sticks his finger through the ragged, bloody hole in his school t-shirt, lifting it away from his body and says to Tamamo, "Yeah, I totally fooled everybody. For sure." His tone is deeply annoyed and the cut on his lip as well as the bruising from the punch are noticeably fading as they speak. And then, distracted, he looks down, pulling up the gore-covered cloth and looks at the pale, smooth skin under it. "Man, that never stops being weird." At Michael's words, he looks up again and smiles. "Radical!" And then, a bit hesitantly, "Um, the thing. With the wings. Are you...? 'Cause I have some questions."

Lockie Mitchell eyes Tamamo, "If thats a threat, just to let you know, been meaning to make a fox fur coat for a friend of mine", he looks at Shane messing with his shirt and holds out a hand, "Give me the shirt, I can fix it", again he feels bad about punching the kid and it's pissing him off!, "You're still a dick though".

Tamamo nods once more to Michael, then gives Shane a stern look "People just don't come back from the dead." she doesn't say more, just gives Lockie a look, before she picks up her sandals and slips into them. "It is no threat but Karma. Tell of things you shouldn't and it might strike back..." With a last smile, she turns around to move along the way she had came...

Michael lets out a snort before he can stop it.

"I know one or two people who do..." he murmurs despite the fact that Tamamo didn't really address him, and that she is already walking away. "At least one," he adds. Then he stands up. "I need to make another phone call," he tells Shane with another glance at Lockie. "I'll be back."

Looking grim for someone on the winning side of a recent battle, Michael goes back for his phone, picks it up, and continues on his way until he is out of earshot of Shane and Lockie.

Shane Welles gives the retreating young woman a look that is achingly lonely and sad for a moment as he whispers, "I wish." And then, clearing his throat, he strips off his shirt and tosses it at Lockie. "I'm not the one going around punching people for no reason. I mean, yeah, I got hit. But ... I don't even get in fist fights. I mean, I took like six karate lessons, sure, but that's because the school was next door to the Dairy Queen AND a comics shop! I didn't mean to get head butted by a crazy demon goat!" He watches Michael take his call and sighs. "Man. The next time I hear a tree calling me, I swear to God..." He glances in the knight's direction, "No offense. I swear, I'm staying in bed."

Lockie Mitchell catches the shirt as he watches the Fox walk away, he reaches into his bag and throws Shane something to clean the blood off himself and slips the shirt in his bag, "For he who dies yet lives again, restore that which was lost, by the count of ten, return to me with no cost", is muttered then he waits ten seconds before pulling the shirt back out of the bag and looking at it, sloppy spell but seemed to do the trick, he throws the shirt back to Shane and watches Michael walk away.