Description: Who'd've thought England and Russia would get along so well?
Kerian finally, finally, opens his thermos. The sweet scent of Earl Grey tea, the steam of the hot beverage, and the quiet, peaceful air of the empty and chilly park all wrap about the young Englishman in what might be the single most massive 'aaaah' moment a human being's ever managed to collect in one instant. He relaxes into the bench, white hair flowing down the back of it like so many silken spider-web strands, and pours the tea into his cup.
He still had that ridiculous sword from that insane theme fight, sitting across his lap in its far-too-long sheath and looking really rather menacing to the average person - which fortunately was what he was going for, as it had so far kept his bench clear of the everpresent fangirls, lookie-loos, and similar lunatics.
He allows himself to relax, a yawn of contentment breaking out from his lips and exhaling into the air. The steam of his breath and the steam of the tea merge, linger for a moment, and float upwards to the clear blue sky like balloons cut free of their strings, off to join their fellow clouds high above.
Truly, the day was the most peaceful he'd had in ages, and his slender, delicate, effeminate fingers curl around the thermos top in anticipation of the relaxation and quiet today might just bring. Maybe his luck was changing.
Kerian takes a grateful sip of the tea, and once again, a happy sigh escapes his lips. Finally, everything was going his way.
Zangief has just finished eating a very great deal of food. But, in the name of getting to know this famous city better, he had decided to take a brisk walk through the city proper... and then he'd found the park. Well, he had decided, this was a nice enough place. So, he'd have a little wander through it. Naturally... the Red Cyclone himself has gathered more than a little interest. But he was used to it, and he isn't letting it bother him. The fact he's wandering around in his red shorts, big shiny red boots, and nothing else at all is a testament to the fact that he, at least, didn't care at all if people recognized who he is.
He is, however, just starting to feel like he'd like to sit down. And where does a mountain of pure Russian muscle sit down? Well... the answer is, of course, wherever he wants to. Not put off at all by the fact that Kerian has a menacing weapon laid across his lap, the large man walks towards the bench, and clears his throat, gesturing to the other half. ... He'd likely need the englishman to scoot up a little bit for him to be able to settle down.
"I would like to sit down." He rumbles. Not ... meaning to look and sound all that intimidating. But he can't really help it, just -being- Zangief did that.
Kerian looks up. Oh my. That's a large fellow.
"Of course," he says politely, scooting over to the edge of the bench. He was a Valentine, after all - and the man had asked most politely, something most of the people who wantonly violated his space rarely did - and he'd act like it, dammit. Besides, better to scoot than risk getting his tea spilled in a fight, and hey, the man didn't seem like he was a -bad- fellow. Just...a big one.
"Lovely weather," he comments offhandedly, looking up at the sky. Unusually, he actually meant it - unlike the vast majority of people who say the words 'lovely weather', and are simply looking for filler words to start a conversation without the awkwardness of saying 'hey there enormous muscle man'.
He sets the sword at an edge, leaning it against the bench and making himself comfortable against what room he still had. "Out for a walk as well, then?" Kerian offers cheerily. "It really is lovely weather to take advantage of."
Zangief settles on the bench, which creaks and groans in protest that he is settling upon it... but it holds, which is a positive. He peers closer at the englishman. The large Russian shakes his head slowly, trying to sum him up. Seemed like a bit of a strange young man. Too pleasant and at-ease. Not that he's going to complain. Instead, he leans back against the bench, and looks up at the sky for a moment.
"Bah. It's not cold enough." He says, after a few moments of silence. "I am finding my way around Southtown. It is a strange place. Good food, though."
He lets the silence go on for a while longer, not really seeming like one to want to talk all that much. But he does steal a glance or two down at the weapon. Quite obviously interested... even if he wasn't going to broach the subject immediately.
Kerian notices the glance - of course he notices the glance, he's been reading people since he was twelve, ever since Ginyu taught him how to spot concealed cards and read lies through the twitches in the face. His eyes narrow just a tad, but his smile remains, cheery as ever. He wasn't going to let anything ruin his day, no sir.
Another sip of tea, and he gives another little sigh. "I agree - I do miss the chill of the English countryside some days," he considers. Not that his accent wouldn't've given away his origin immediately - the lilting British speech patterns were unmissable, even though he'd been in Japan for years.
"Ah, you like it?" He offers, pretending to only just realize that Zangief was looking at the sword. He raises it up, and it is indeed long - about as long as he is tall, in fact, almost comically oversized. Which was okay - it was mostly for intimidation, after all. "A bit of a relic from a thematic match the other day...it went with my costume, and I just sort of took a shine to it, and bob's your uncle, they let me keep it." He chuckles.
The large Russian gives a hrmph. "I see." He states, solemnly. "I have not been keeping up with recent matches. I have been busy. But. Perhaps we will fight one another some day, yes?" He grins, and... it's not a very pretty picture. In fact, it's downright unpleasant. The large man moving to clap his hand on Kerian's shoulder, if he is not prevented from doing so. It was meant to be a friendly gesture, after all. Not a violent one- he wouldn't press the point if Kerian didn't want to be touched.
He would, either way, lean a bit closer. "How did the fight go, eh? The weapon work well? I prefer my bare hands... but I have fought many different people. I suppose there are worse ways to fight."
Kerian just sort of takes the patting, despite the massive size difference of his slender, almost feminine shoulders and the other man's massive meaty palm. The touch would probably yield very valuable information if Zangief was paying attention to the subtle chi flowing all through the man's body, chi that would feel like an armor of quicksilver - light and airy and flexible and strong. He smiles, letting the large man's unpleasant grin flow off him like so much water.
"Not particularly. Not much of a swordfighter myself." He agrees. "But it's a lovely momento of a first televised match." Oops. He hadn't meant to note that. Too late now.
Kerian takes another pull of his tea and refills the thermos. "And I'm afraid I lost when the truck hit me." For someone who got hit by a truck not a few days earlier, he looks like he's in pretty good shape. Maybe that chi has something to do with it.
"But then, you win some, you lose some, eh?"
Zangief laughs loudly, and... if he's aware of the chi... he makes absolutely no sign of it. The truth was, Zangief just isn't that observant, and he doesn't really care about those sort of things. He shakes his head slowly, "A first, eh? I didn't think I knew you, but, I haven't had so much time to watch the fighting circuit as I would like." He shrugs, releasing Kerian's shoulder and stretching a bit. "Yes, yes. You win some you lose some... you are quite young, though! I am sure you will get better."
There is a moments hesitation, and then Zangief expands a little bit more. After all, the next generation were the future, and Zangief could offer a bit of insight into this sort of thing. He keeps that maniac grin, and adds.
"If it helps. Try and take the hit on your shoulder, and push into it. Then you don't get hurt so badly, yes?"
Kerian laughs at that and holds up his free hand. Okay, so the guy was enormous and kinda taking up a lot of space, but he was likeable, and he apparently wasn't as much an Evil Communist as Russians were supposed to be - not that Kerian particularly cared about Communism, but he was a capitalist noble and all that nonsense.
"I'd rather not get hit at all, personally," he jokes, "I'm fairly certain I'm not as strong as you are, and a good strong blow might just break me in half." Untrue, but hey, the big man didn't have to know.
"I'm Kerian, by the way."
Zangief chuckles. "Kerian. Hrm. I am Zangief." There is a moment where, curious, he wonders whether the boy actually knew who he was already; he is quite famous, after all, and he would be more surprised (and probably a little bit disappointed) if a new up and coming fighter -hadn't- heard of the Red Cyclone.
"I have not been on the international circuit lately." He admits, leaning back and stretching. "BUT! I am planning to change that. It is about time I make a comeback, eh friend?"
Kerian smiles and nods. "Sounds like an excellent idea. Who do you think you should challenge first? Surely someone of your skill needs a skilled opponent." He had no idea who Zangief was, of course, but he didn't want to let the older man down. He seemed like quite the likeable fellow. "I know an older gentleman who probably would be a fair match for you..."
The old Chinese man had after all read him like a book, and Kerian was curious to see what kind of skill the fellow had.
"Or then again, perhaps someone a touch more famous...maybe straight to the top to fight Ryu perhaps?"
Zangief laughs loudly, and shakes his head. "Oh! The mighty Ryu. BAH! He would not be a proper challenge to the Red Cyclone!" ... Yeah, that's right Zangief. Ryu wouldn't be any kind of challenge. In truth, he knew that he probably couldn't beat Ryu- for a start, he /hates/ fighters who use projectiles. Up close and personal was more his style of fighting.
"No, no. I know exactly who I want to fight." He says, simply. "Obviously, there is only one man who would be a proper challenge to me. -MAYOR HAGGAR-." Just the way he shouts the name implies a great deal of pent up anger and frustration.
"Mayor Haggar has stolen my moves for years! He's a pretender! I can't wait until I can get my hands on him and break him apart!"
Kerian raises an eyebrow. Haggar? The name didn't ring a bell for Kerian. "Well, if he'd stolen your moves," he agrees, "He's a good place to start. But then, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...perhaps he only copies your moves in an effort to be more like you. After all, who wouldn't want to be like the great Red Cyclone?"
Well, Kerian, for one.
"Perhaps he's hoping you'll fight him not for vengeance, but to test his strength against the original's and see how far he's progressed, mm?"
Zangief shakes his head slowly. "No." He says, simply. "I will beat him because he is a thief! And he is weak. He is a mayor now! Not a wrestler! When he was a wrestler we could have fought as equals... but he is a politician! How can he call himself a fighter when he is a mayor? Bah! It makes me sick! Maybe when I have broken the ring with his face he will remember what he is meant to be!"
He's getting quite excited, now. The large man stands up from the bench, and gestures to the park as a whole. "I am the best wrestler in the world! What is he? He is a politician! He is weak after so long shuffling papers! But it is about time we finally settled the score, before he decides to retire to play golf all day, eh?"
Kerian cracks a bit of a grin, allowing himself the gesture. "It may be quite hard for the poor man to golf once you've shattered his knees." Okay, he was having a spot of fun with the big man, but it was all in jest, and he was being quite careful not to actually let any sarcasm slip through. Hopefully, Zangief would just feel like he's got a fan or something.
"At least he'll have plenty of time to sit in his wheelchair and stamp papers though." He amends, the amusement still thundering in his head. The big man was loud, but at least he wasn't rude, and he was rather enjoyable for, well, a giant loud man. "What sort of wrestling, by the way? My master was a fan of that sort of thing."
Finally, that actually was true. He couldn't count the number of times he'd come in from sweeping the shrine's porch to find Ginyu situated in front of the little black-and-white TV watching two grown men in extremely erotic poses.
The one time Kerian'd pointed that out to him, he'd found himself sitting under a waterfall in his underwear. Ginyu hadn't appreciated that crack.
"Perhaps he was a fan of you, too."
Zangief punches his fist into the air, "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!" He bellows, apparently entirely unaware of any jest that there may be... after all, this was the kind of level of barbarity that Zangief was used to promising to mete out to his opponents on a regular basis. "What sort of wrestling?" He repeats, apparently... a little confused by the question, he looks at Kerian as though he'd asked what sort of water it was that he liked to drink? What kind of wrestling? There is only one, of course!
"/Professional/ wrestling!" Zangief shouts, indicating his shorts and then striking a dramatic pose, with his arms held up and his muscles rippling as he flexes.
"... Ah!" He says, suddenly realizing what had likely been meant. "You mean my style?" He asks, "I use lots of techniques! Designed to take advantage of the massive amount of strength that Mother Russia has blessed me with. Of course... you -must- know about the main ones, but, well. Just watch when I finally get Haggar in the ring. You'll never forget the power you see that night, I promise!"
Kerian beams at that. Zangief almost reminded him of Ginyu - the enormous size aside, they were both loud, boisterous fellows, and for some reason, the younger man felt oddly at ease even with the huge man screaming at the sky like a madman. Admittedly, Zangief lacked the subtlety Ginyu-sensei had possessed, and he doubted that Zangief could do some of the insane techniques of Ginyu's more complex masteries, but it was still a familiarity, and that was good.
"I'll tune in," he promises, "I'm certain it will be a night I'll never forget." He was really growing to like the huge fellow. He takes another pull of his tea and empties out the thermos. There was a crowd sort of edgily avoiding Zangief now - he was huge and intimidating, even if he was famous. Kerian was a bit thankful for it, actually - besides just the familiar feeling, it was keeping the underaged girls away quite masterfully.
"I understand wrestling involves a great deal of throws...I've always been a bit, well, off when it comes to throwing." No surprise. He was tiny, thin, feminine, and delicate-looking. "Would you have any advice for enduring them?"
Zangief considers this for a few moments. Pondering the question. He scratches the back of his head, honestly thinking hard about it. Unfortunately for Kerian, Zangief had always been more of a hands on person when it came to training, not really the sort to think through these things and more the kind to... well... actually just throw himself into the situation and work his way through it.
It's amazing how fast you come up with solutions when you are wrestling with a grizzly bear.
"Best way to learn is to fight people who use them a lot." He says, solemnly. "You learn to roll and tense. But... you are a very little man. Best thing for you to do is to wriggle and squirm, try and get free before they have a good grip." He chuckles, moving to clap him on the shoulder again. "If we fought, and I got my hands on you... I break you in half, yes? Maybe you need to bulk up a bit."
Kerian laughs at that, too. "Maybe I do," he admits. He had his own ways of surviving such things.
"So the best advice is, as usual, don't get hit...I do appreciate it, though," he amends, still smiling. It really was too much like Ginyu, and later, he'd probably curl up in corner of the rented apartment and close his eyes and remember. But for now, he'd keep on smiling at the big Russian, keep on listening to the man's tales of his prowess, and keep on enjoying the cool November air.
"Say...why so little clothing?" It had been itching at his mind for a bit now. "Is it pride, or is it endurance training?" The only time he'd ever been in such little clothing was whenever Ginyu decided it was time for waterfall training, and that had always been unpleasant.
Zangief actually pauses. Brows knitting together, and then he chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, no no. Nothing like that." He says. "It is more fearsome, you see. Clothing would get in the way of the muscles, you see?" He straightens up so that Kerian can get a better look. Just in case his point wasn't clear enough already.
"In Russia, then, you see, then it helps you to endure other things. It doesn't bother me to wear little clothing anywhere else. Mother Russia ... does not forgive weakness." A solemn nod, then. Ah, Mother Russia. Just a few days outside of it, and already Zangief was missing its freezing cold and ravenous bears.
"It sounds like a heaven for a fighter," Kerian agrees. "I've never been to Russia, though I've heard it's..."
He stops. The word choice was important here, he knew, and he had to be very careful not to offend the big man while still making the point he was trying to achieve.
"Feral," he finishes, "Like a big cat or a bear. Beautiful and terrible."
He'd also heard that Russia was one of the best places to train endurance, and apparently, that was true, judging by the big man.
"Though I admit I'm not a fan of turnips." A little joke. "I do rather like Tchaikovsky, though..."
"Mother Russia is the best nation in the world!" Zangief declares. Probably this does not come as a great surprise, but, he feels compelled to say it anyway. "Is more like a bear than a cat." He says at last, straightening up. "Massive and powerful. She can take punishment... but if you threaten her children, she will kill you."
He grins, apparently very happy with his analogy. It was about as eloquent as he ever got, really. But at least it was for a good cause; espousing the virtues of glorious Mother Russia!
"It would do you good, to go there. Everyone should visit."
Kerian nods. "I'd like to, very much. Perhaps later in my life." He had the money, after all.
"Now on the same topic of homelands...have you ever been to England?"
Zangief gives a short nod of his head. "Yes. Once, I had an exhibition match in London. It was ... a strange place. The weather was miserable, but the people were enthusiastic." Then again... Zangief very rarely saw people when they were not at their most enthusiastic. People were almost always in a good mood at a wrestling match, after all. And Zangief -always- put on an entertaining show, if nothing else.
Kerian nods. "I see." He purses his lips. "The weather's always poor in London town," he notes, "And there's often some darkness lurking under the streets." Was it a subtle hint to the older man?
"Tell me...do you know much about shadows? I'm looking for someone...maybe more than one someone...and they're likely to be hiding in the shadows."
There it was. The reason behind those eyes, those eyes that are just a tad too intense for someone so young, just a bit too focused. The tone was an unmistakable one, too - the tone of a weapon, of someone looking to put their past behind them with the only method known to fighters: vengeance.
He liked the big man. He liked him a lot so far - he was a lot friendlier than most of the people he'd met in Southtown, and the familiarity was doing a great deal of good for Kerian's nerves. He felt he could trust this man, this brutally honest man who might not even be smart enough to hide such things anyway. He smiles. "Any help you could give me would be...an unimaginable boon."
Zangief, for all his flaws, really was direct. He truly did hate liars. But he really had very little patience for smart words, as well. He liked it when people were as direct with him as he was with them. But... luckily, there was enough honesty in the -tone- if not in the content for Zangief to get the impression that the boy was attempting to be as honest as he could.
Regardless, the large man shakes his head. "I don't." He says, simply. "But. If you tell me what I can look for to help, I will." He grins, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "I like you, friend. You are young, but you have ... potential, I think. What can I do to help you, eh?"
Kerian inhales sharply and frowns, looking down into the empty thermos. "I'm looking for the people who killed the ones important to me," he says calmly. The outer ring of people was far enough away not to be able to be heard. "Parents, master...maybe the same group. Maybe not. I don't know. I don't know who did it, and I don't know any motives or any enemies Master had...I don't know if they're connected..."
He let out a bit of a derisive snort. He'd never spilled this much to anyone before. It was probably because of just -how- damn similar Zangief was to Ginyu - the same pride, the same size, the same personality. "What I don't know could fill a cup of tea to the brim and still have some left in the pot."
Zangief grunts at that. "Hrm." He says, in truth... Zangief never really considered himself -much- of a hero. He was mostly concerned with making sure that Russia was not damaged... but. Even though Kerian is not Russian, and even though it wasn't... -really- any of his business. It wasn't really going to hurt him to help. The large man looks quite contemplative as he sits down again, rubbing his beard with his fingers, his brow knits and he grumbles. That was definitely the sort of thing that he could understand driving Kerian on. Not only the parents, that would be bad enough, but his Master as well?
"Kerian." He rumbles, at last. "If I can help you, then I will." And that, really, is all there is that needs to be said as far as he was concerned.
Kerian looks up at the huge man and smiles. It really was the first time he'd genuinely smiled, eyes and all, and meant it, in a long time. "I don't believe I can tell you how helpful that is." He says after a moment. "You remind me of my master...a great deal like him." He looks back down. "He'd probably like you quite a bit, Zangief."
Zangief grins, and nods in return. "I am sure he was a fine man." He says, quite seriously. Standing up, again, he looks down at the boy. "I think I will need to find your fight!" He declares, suddenly. "A man who can get hit by a truck and talk about it a few days later... and who is willing to go all the way to Russia to toughen themselves up." He grins, nodding absently. "Yes, I think you have a lot of potential. I look forward to seeing it. I ... have never had a pupil, though. I do not think my training would help you very much." There is a moments pause. He doesn't want him to feel like he's shutting him out suddenly, after all. So he does expand a little.
"A bear is a lot more dangerous than a truck." He finishes, lamely.
Kerian laughs. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I see one to wrestle," he agrees. "And maybe your training isn't what I need, but your enthusiasm...that's certainly picking me up quite a bit."
It was true. He seemed like a different man all of a sudden - as if having someone so open and honest to shoulder his burden for a bit had changed him into whoever he would've been if Ginyu and the Valentine family hadn't been killed. It was even noticeable on his face - those icey blue eyes had warmed up quite a bit, and the smile seemed just a tad more real.
"Perhaps this was a destined meeting. Maybe Ginyu-sensei guided you here from beyond the grave to show me that anything can be accomplished with the determination and strength of a bear...or of Mother Russia." He drops the joke in just at the end, feeling it appropriate. Yes, today really -was- going well, wasn't it, Valentine? Very well. He'd made a friend and an ally. "Perhaps that's what I need to find."
Zangief laughs in return, nodding to his new found friend. "Yes. I think so, my friend. I am sure that you will get answers, and when you do find the people responsible. ..." His expression darkens, then. "You will get justice." The sentence is spoken with a quite... astounding degree of menace. Zangief was not, after all, one to bother with the proper process when dealing with people he felt were his enemies.
And then his expression lightens again. "For now, though. I think I need to go and talk to my manager. We need to arrange these fights, if I am going to get known properly again, eh?"
Kerian breaks into another smile as he stands. "I agree. You need to get known properly again, after all." He holds out his hand again. "If there's anything I can ever do for you, Zangief...please...just let me know. I'll do everything in my power to help you."
It was hilarious, really - a mouse holding out its paw for a bear. But he didn't care - the big man had helped him in a way that he couldn't even quantify, and he was determined to pay the man back simply for being him.
Let it never be said that Zangief is one to turn down a manly handshake. Careful not to crush the smaller mans hand in a firm, strong handshake. He wasn't quite sure what Kerian thought that he would be able to do for him... but the intentions were clearly in the right place, so he takes it graciously, and pats the man on the back. "Very good!" He declares, brightly. "Hopefully we'll meet again soon. Have a good day. Oh." And he leans close, to give one last piece of advice before he heads off on his way. "Learning by doing... it is good for grapples. But, do not try it with trucks- I don't think that would go very well for you."
And that bit of wisdom dispensed, he turns and heads off out of the park.
Log created on 14:34:26 11/05/2008 by Kerian, and last modified on 17:35:25 11/05/2008.