WARRIOR TRICKSTER

Big loud snoring.

Disturbing the entire countryside.

Dont mind Xin carefully putting a blanket over monkey friend so he can be comfy.

He lets out a big, content sigh (in his sleep??).

Realising that the stranger was no direct threat, Ahri allowed the gathered magic around her hands to drain away and return to the nature around her. “You are very confident for someone who has never met one of my kind before. How can you know that you will be able to take me on? Maybe I will have you on your knees before you can grab the first tail.” 

She shook her head at the other’s confidence, mostly amused. He didn’t seem to pose a threat, yet seemed like someone she shouldn’t try to feed on. “You know that you make little sense when you talk?” Ahri asked, kneeling down next to the tracks she’d been examining before being interrupted. “I suggest you keep your boasting to a minimum or I’ll be tempted to “magic you up” after all.”

“Ehh...” Wukong shrugged, swaying low in his stance, “You just don’t look very tough. That’s all. I mean, sure, you probably have strong magic. But I can see magic coming from miles and miles away. You think you would do so well if I came and bonked you on the head, once you ran out?”

Or, at least he assumed most people could run out. He often felt like he ran out of energy after most earnest efforts. Maybe that was just him getting tired? He laughed about it all the same, absolutely hooting, “Nah, I’m not gonna. Name’s Wukong, by the way. King of the Shimon. Maybe all this talking I’m doing is just... to distract you! Aha!”

<Now now> she smiled, <is something worth doing at all if it isn’t a little troublesome?>

<Perhaps a better way to look at it is… what compels you? You could stay at home in a tree somewhere, I’m sure, and never trouble yourself with anything! But you haven’t, and here we are. There is something poetic in that, don’t you think?>

<Maybe you won’t write the poem, but rather, you are living the poetry?> she giggled. <Maybe someday, someone will write it all down.>

<I think you’re doing just fine.>

“Oh noo...” He whined, pouting childishly, “Don’t think things like that at me. That’s how you get me to do stuff I don’t wanna do. It doesn’t have to be trouble. Sleeping’s worth it. So is eating. Not trouble at all! Though... fighting is trouble sometimes, I guess.”

He took a moment, a very short moment, to consider the human’s words with a level of seriousness. Especially the part about being ‘living poetry.’ That was pretty cool. People should be writing poems about him, “And you fight, because you have to get people out of trouble. Maybe that’s art, to them? If you stay up in a tree, you get so bored that you turn into a stone. That’s not helping anyone, and no one can be amazed at how great you are, that way!”

 It’s gonna happen, so you shouldn’t try to hide!

 Unless you’re a sore loser, then I suppose I better leave you alone...

Cheng managed to get to the waterfall before the noon. He sighed, sat down and put his qiang away. He leaned over and started washing his face and drinking some of the water. He really needed some refreshment now.

Was that... another Shimon over there? Maybe? How exciting! This was the perfect opportunity for some mischief. Wukong loomed at some distance, thoroughly scrutinizing the area after he noticed the other’s presence. What to do, what to do..? He scratched his head for a moment, when ah-hah! They were washing their face, huh? Maybe they needed to take a bath?

Quickly, Wukong manifested a clone of himself and sent it bolting out to push Cheng into the cascading water. Whether successful or not, it would immediately disappear into a puff of smoke and straw. And, whether successful or not, the Trickster would hoot with laughter from his hiding spot.

The Gumiho became aware of the subtle shift in the magic around her that announced the other’s presence only as he drew closer. She had encountered quite a few other Vastaya on her journey so far and none of them had been able to point her in the right direction. However, this one’s magic “signature” so to speak, felt different from the ones she’d met before. 

Ahri frowned when the other called out to her, tails flailing out instinctively, and a blue glow gathering around her fingertips. “Give it a try and you’ll find out,” she shouted back, the words clearly a threat. “I can’t say I would recommend it.” 

“Woah...” He ogled at her display, almost before he realized it. Shaking his head of his curiosities though, he continued to yell excitedly. Threatening postures had long since lost their bite. Probably around the same time he realized he was the best, “I’d do it, if I thought it would be fair. Probably isn’t fair, so I probably shouldn’t do it. I could catch all your tails before you could say, erm... tails!”

Thankfully, I had a secret weapon up my sleeve:                                I’m really, really, really good at fighting.

Sona chuckled - albeit soundlessly.

<’Music’ is many things, depending on who you ask. Some consider it a higher form of poetry. Others, a way to convey color without words. But I think like all art, music is something you can make out of anything.>

<But I do not think…> she looked at his… flaccid… wood? <… you are approaching the subject from the appropriate angle.>

The Vastayan yawned with the strict intent of overselling the act, flicking his staff back into rigidity so he could lean against it as he mused, “Well... I don’t really get that stuff. Art stuff. Just write poems instead. Paint a painting. Wouldn’t that save you the trouble? If I wanna do something, it’s just because I wanna do it? Or, I wanna know how to do it?”

Wukong wasn’t the most subtle creature on Runeterra. He eyed up his fellow Vastayan from a ways away, leaning on his staff as he pointed in her general direction. It was almost as if he was... trying to count? Trying to count, and not getting very far with it from the looks of his scrunched up features,

“Oh... You look sad. Why do you look so sad?” The Trickster was low in his stance, head cocked almost at a right angle as if that would help him better diagnose the other’s mood, “I could tell you a joke? Maybe someone already told you a bad joke, huh..?”

“Are you lost, or something?” Wukong shouted out without much warning. He was perched in branches above, his large tail wrapped about another nearby tree limb. He seemed quite amused, head resting in his hand, “I haven’t seen anyone around here for... a while. Actually, maybe I haven’t seen anyone today? Huh...”