Searching, Hunt-t-t Hunt-t-t-t, Hunting.

Taking a momentary reprieve from the hustle and bustle of Santa Monica is a handsome man, dwelling in the shadows cast by the lights of the street. He wears a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. His head is tilted down slightly, silver-green eyes fixed on the dirty, moist ground. A cigarette burns sadly between his soft lips, a white cup of coffee clutched in one hand. His left hand is shoved into his pocket, his right brought midway up, holding the coffee just above his waist as he loses himself in thought.

Motion may catch the man's eye near the dumpster across from him. Next to the dumpster is what closely resembles a pile of discarded clothing. The fabric is old and torn, much of it dirty and filth as if it had been there for years after being rolled through mud and scum. A bloated, red beetle crawls out from one the wrinkles of fabric, waving its antennae around curiously.

The handsome man continues to stare off without much care for his surroundings, his lips almost opening enough for the cigarette to fall out. He reaches up in a daze, taking the thing and ashing it absentmindedly. He replaces it to his mouth, tendrils of smoke curling about him in the darkness, reaching upwards towards the night sky and dispersing into nothingness. As the beetle makes its way out from the clothing, a single black crow flutters out from the darkness, landing next to the small insect and snatching it up in its beak. "Dinner, yeah Eric?" The handsome man says out loud without looking up, the coffee still forgotten in his right hand.

Cud an arm shoots out from under the clothing. In fact, the arm is part of the clothing, living within the sleeve of two layered trenchcoats. A worn glove covers the hand as it grabs the crow. Rather suddenly, as if they had been there the entire time, thin yellow eyes stare at the man with the cigarette from underneath hoods and a hat, a cloth bandana tied around his lower face to cover his mouth and nose.

"Let him go." The man says instantly, as soon as the hand appears. He reaches up with his left hand, coolly taking a drag from the cigarette while holding it to his lips with tender fingers. "Let him go and I won't have to flay you." Despite his forceful words, Elijah's voice hardly holds any emotion, just the same quiet relaxation that envelopes the man, ever since he had stepped off of Santa Monica.

The pile of clothes rises with the speed of a growing plant. Slowly, the figure takes on more and more height until the eyes hidden in the shadow of the clothes are level with the stranger's. He pulls the bird close and another hand slithers over to it, gently patting it on the head. "Y-y-y-y-you… A p-pet of y-yoursss?"

Finally, the man slowly turns his head, silver-green eyes peering into the darkness and meeting the mysterious pair of eyes with complete accuracy. "Yes." He says in the same relaxed tone, taking another slow drag on his cigarette. He never leaves his spot against the brick wall, and he doesn't show any signs of moving towards the pile of clothing. In fact, he seems rather at peace as the pile speaks, almost reassured that 'Eric' the crow will not be harmed.

Cud glances upward as a fluttering of wings echoes throughout the alleyway. A bloated pidgeon lands on his shoulder, an ugly tumor growing between it's beak and eyes. The pile releases the crow and, in his gruff and hoarse stammer, says, "A n-n-n-na.. who are you?" He shrinks down, again, as he asks the question but only to sit on his knees, or crouch, or whatever it is his body is doing beneath the ocean of clothing that surrounds him.

As soon as the black bird is released it flutters towards the handsome man and lands on his shoulder, just as he pushes off of the wall and turns to face the clothing-creature, his back to Santa Monica. "Elijah Day." He mutters, loud enough for the words to echo off the moist walls and make their way to Cud. He takes a drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowed against the smoke that rises from his nostrils.

Cud seems to shiver, causing all of the clothing to shudder violently for a moment. The action causes a random assortment of bloated parasites to explode from him like a firecracker. Most of them scurry right back to him, quickly hiding in the wrinkles of the fabric. "I'm C-c-c-cu.. Cud. Cud. This isss M-Milo." The pidgeon squawks and Cud makes a noise, somewhat similar to the squawk, in response.

A light crunching sound can be heard as the crow finishes off the beetle it had caught, and Elijah narrows his eyes slightly at the man. "Cud." He repeats, taking a drag from his cigarette as he mulls over both the man's appearance and his demeanor. "And Milo." He adds that almost as an afterthought, silver-green eyes flitting up to stare at the bird briefly, before looking back at the thing's eyes. "And you can.. speak with Milo, yes?"

Cud crawls from the ground onto the dumpster, using his arms as if they were legs. He slips into the depository of garbage and answers in a grunt, "Y-yes. He is one of m-m-many, fr-r-r-r-r.. p-pal."

Elijah seems to mull something over, clearly trying to decide if the man is insane or can actually communicate with animals. He turns his head ever-so-slightly, whispering to the crow on his shoulder. "Eric?" He asks, as if his tone itself asks the question his words don't form. The crow gently squawks, and Elijah lets out a small sigh and smokes the last of his cigarette, before flicking it into a pile of garbage. "Excellent." He says in a louder voice, loud enough for the creature in the dumpster to hear. "Where are you from?"

A few pieces of garbage are tossed from the dumpster as the creature dives into the garbage, hunting through it for something. The pidgeon perches itself with a squawk on the dumpsters side. "Air-r-r-r-r-rr…Los Angeles Airp-p-p-ort," he says, still digging through the garbage.

"You're from the airport?" The man asks, raising a black eyebrow. He falls silent for several moments, using this time to drink his coffee casually as he watches garbage fall from the dumpster and onto the ground. "What are you doing?" He asks in a quiet voice, obviously having decided that the man can, indeed, speak to animals.

Cud doesn't answer for a moment, obviously preoccupied with his search. The bird shifts its weight before squawking impatiently, causing Cud to pause. "Searching, hunt-t-t, hun-t-t-t, hunting. Y-y-you?"

"Drinking coffee." He replies swiftly, tipping back the cup and draining the last of the warm liquid inside. He lowers it and adds, "Hunting for what?" As he tosses the empty white cup into the dumpster, silver-green eyes flitting towards Milo briefly.

The coffee cup pops back out of the dumpster, spinning high into the air before hitting the pavement. "You're d-d-done with the coffee… wha-wha-what ar-r-re you doing, n-n-n-now?" His head pops up, rather suddenly, and his thin yellow eyes peer over the edge of the dumpster at Elijah.

"I'm standing here." He says, shrugging up a shoulder nonchalantly, his hands slipped into the pockets of his jeans. "And you?" He asks, a smile lurking beneath his relaxed expression, as if he'd be content to carry on the useless, blunt conversation all day.

Cud glances side to side down the alleyway and makes a series of grunts. They sounded as if they almost formed words, but failed, more closely resembling the sounds of a beast in the wild. After raising his cloth covered nose and sniffing the air, he comments. "Sear-r-rching. Hunt-t-ting."

"For what?" Elijah asks in the same calm, patient voice. Something about his presence here is odd and no longer the casual facade he makes it out to be. It's almost as if the handsome man is watching an interesting experiment.

Cud locks his eyes on Elijah, the beady yellow orbs seeming to move constantly, like an alert hound. "Y-y-you will see, Elijajaja-pal." With that, he dives back into the lovely pool of trash.

"Very well." He replies, reaching into his pocket for a cellphone. He flips it open, checking the time and wincing as the dim light of the phone's interface pours out, reflecting in his eyes. He quickly snaps the phone shut and blinks, sliding it back into his pocket.

Cud crawls out of the dumpster, using all of his limbs to creep over the edge at an alarming speed. He heads straight for Elijah, rising up to his feet just before colliding with the man. His face stops inches from Elijah's, the dirty brim of the worn baseball cap brushing the man's forehead. He lifts up a hand slowly, a fist clenched around it. "This," is all he says.

The handsome man somehow manages not to step back as the thing stops just in front of him, his nostrils flaring slightly as he accidentally takes in some of the thing's stench. "That?" He asks in a nasally voice, his senses clearly overwhelmed by Cud's smell.

An insect that could have once been any number of bugs crawls out from under the bandana covering Cud's face. It's abdomen is bloated and has a deep red color, much like that of blood. It crawls up Cud's face and onto the hat brim, making its way towards Elijah. Meanwhile, Cud brings his fist closer to them and uncurls his long and knotted gloved fingers. In his hand is what appears to be a key, old and worn.

"You want.. me to take it?" He asks, raising a black eyebrow, his hands still slipped casually into the pockets of his coat. Elijah waits for the answer, silver-green eyes looking at the key only briefly before looking back at Cud's eyes.

Yellow eyes steady, for once since they met, Cud stares straight into Elijah's. "Y-y-yours. Could be of g-g-g-good use to you, b-b-buddy." The tiny insect finishes the journey and makes the first step onto Elijah's handsome forehead.

The handsome man does not flinch away as the bug crawls onto his skin, though his eyes narrow even more. The crow on his shoulder bristles, but something keeps it from snatching the insect off of Elijah's forehead. "What's it for?" He asks as one hand slides from his pocket, extending forward as his fingers gently uncurl and take the key. His hand disappears back into his pocket, with the key, though his eyes never leave Cud's.

Cud holds his position for another moment, staring deep into Elijah. The insect crawls happily across Elijah's flesh and a loud squawk from the deformed pidgeon sounds out, snapping Cud back to his senses. He slips back a few steps, shrinking back down to his four legged posture. "I d-d-don't kn-know. But it'ssss your-r-r. Yours."

Elijah gently nods his head, the very movement causing the insect to slide from his forehead and fall the very small distance to his nose. The handsome man turns his head, allowing the crow on his shoulder to reach out and snatch up the bug hanging off its owner's nose. "Thank you." He replies taking a step back as well, his hands still in his pockets. The bird on his shoulder rises up and lets out a loud screech, beginning to fly off into the air.

Cud gestures his hand up to the air, the pidgeon also flying off with an unimpressive squawk. "Tell Er-Er-Er… Crow to f-find me if you n-n-need me." With that, Cud falls forward, landing on his arms, and crawls like a creature from a fantasty novel towards the sewer entrance.

"Likewise." He says, silver-green eyes perfectly following the pigeon's small body as it flies upwards. Then he backs up into the street, narrowly missing a few pedestrians as he 'freaks out', hands rising rapidly to wipe at his forehead and face, eagerly brushing off any dirt or germs that may have been left on his skin from the bug and close proximity with Cud.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License