Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ivan gave a nervous chuckle, before nodding.

"Yeah, I gotcha." Before setting the bat down at the edge of the stairs and ascending them two or three at a time. He could handle it... Hopefully. sweatdrop

"I meant that we are the same...and yet, aren't."

He said this with a crease in his brow, almost as if he didn't understand it himself. His voice wandered as he continued, almost as if he was picking his words carefully, trying to explain it without confusing Maximos - or himself. "Its like...night and day. Ying and Yang. We two are totally...different in every possible way - and that, in a weird kind of way, makes us the same."

He turned away from that rolling beach then, turning to point at Maximos, before poking his thumb into his chest. "Look at you, then look at me. Scrawny and thin, whilst i am big and broad. You rely on magic and weaponry, whilst i barely use my powers and rely solely on my body as my weapon. I am not the brightest spark, yet you could be considered a scholar by many. You live on an island in the sky, whilst i spent my time on Gaia, amongst the cities and forests. Hell, i was born on this planet - i have no idea where you came from, but i'm certain it's not Gaia! We are polar opposites, you and I - and i think, because we are so totally different, yet continue to co-exist with each other...we are the same."

He put his hand into his money pouch within his webbing to pull out a shiny gold coin. Flicking it up into the air with his thumb, the gold spinning with a whir as it flew up, John caught it as gravity's pull sent it back to him - before flicking it to Maximos, giving him enough time to catch it. "Like a coin. I guess thats the simplest way i can put it. Both of us have our side, yet we exist in the same world. We exist together."

"Do you understand what i mean now?"

Ivan's eyes assessed two things. Food, and light. Entering the attic, the massive, slightly tanned street fighter would heave the window open, remove the screen, and stick his head out, assessing.... Hmm.. Yes, he could, in fact, do it.


Moving over, and letting the rats scurry away if they deemed it fit to do so, he'd pick up a bag of feed, and moving back to the window, would make sure that, first, it could fit through the window, and then taking a few steps back, he would give a mental one, two, and then toss the bag straight out the window, and onto the ground below, aiming for yard, rather than cement.

He would do this for all but three of the most damaged bags. Once he was left with what he wanted, the man would drag a bag into the center of the room, and begin cutting it open, making a huge food pile in the middle of the room. Yeah, it was a bit messy, but you know what? Sometimes you had to get dirty, to get the job done.

Once all three bags were lanced and a suitable mound of food filled the center of the room, he'd exit, walking downstairs and outside onto the porch, grabbing his jacket and sifting through pockets... Where was it, where was it...

Ivan produced a package no larger than a a foot, maybe a few inches more, made of leather and metal. This would be grasped with something of awareness, relief...

Entering the house again, he'd move into the room where Dolo sat, sitting on a chair infront of him, and opening the case, much as one might open a book. What was inside, however, was an object most curious. A steel frame, and a black leather bag. The frame itself came in four parts, two ends and two extensions.

"Ever heard the Myth of Saint Patrick?"

The man asked this of Dolo as he pulled first one end out, and an extension, placing it inside the end, and screwing the objects together. He would do this with the other extension, before explaining further as he opened the black leather bag, and released odd objects. Two silver balls, with openings, very well made hinges, to be exact, and four, slightly plump lengths of metal that looked, to the eyes, like snakes.

"He's believed, in lore, to be a snake charmer. Charmed the snakes out of some country, or summat. Now the place has no snakes."

Placing the silver balls on the end of the extensions, he'd ad the other end, before picking up the snakes, and applying pressure at the back of the skull, opened the mouth. Attatching this to one end, He'd repeat it with the other three, before tying the tails to the other end with a loop and a twist, in which the objects seemed content to hold. Now came the hard part....


Gripping both ends, head and tail, Ivan would apply strength to the metal frame, steadily stretching the snakes acrossed a three foot spanse of metal, until the hinges clicked into place. It was not an easy feat, but none the less, he'd finish it. It's something he'd done regularly. The object, to human ears, wasn't much more than an acoustic guitar. But to prey creatures, of all types... Those of weak will, who stole, rather than killed... They were swayed by the mysterious object. They moved, as the strummer thought, following his commands on the notes.

"These four strings... They hold a power akin to mister Saint Peter... Except... What those snakes eat... Well, now they follow my tune."

The door was left open with cause, as the man softly strummed, setting the four strings a humming, before he'd silence them with a finger's gentle pet, and begin playing. The object, though lacking the body and the accoutrements of a common guitar, played and behaved as one was expected to... And the beasts upstairs? Well, if they had their ears open, they'd begin a tsunami down the stairs, claws clicking and bodies milling.

Out the door the rats would mill, the lulling tune in their heads returning them to their original home and hearth, whether it be sewers or forests. Setting the odd instrument over his lap, He'd smile quietly.

"Perhaps you would be wise, next time you get a chance, to keep your feed outside.... If you're even going to play anymore, after what happened?"

"Pay is the eventuality to a job well done, eh?"

He'd pull the box over quietly, opening it and nodding at the contents. He'd close it, obviously satisfied. He'd disassemble his instrument, placing it back in order and closing the box with a snap. He'd study the old man, before rubbing his arms softly, a gesture of anxiousness.


"Do you perhaps know a man named Fauger? He's also on my list of chores, for the day." The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and a pencil.

"I couldn't get a address, except that he wants to go for a stroll through the forest. He's like you, in a wheelchair and all... Except his is more permanent, I think."

Ivan nodded and rose, offering a brief but sincere bow.

"Goodbye, Sir Groilin. Perhaps, if you have more rat problems, you could ask for me by name, eh?"

He'd smile, and then walk outside, of course giving Dolo time to follow, as well as grabbing his baseball bat from the foot of the stairs. Box is set on the porch as pay is placed in pouches, and box is left on the porch, as the man suited back up, making sure no possessions are forgotten, et cetera.