Chapter Text
Erik doesn't know if he hates or loves the city. It's hard to tell, most days. He was born to iron, though, and cannot stay away. Other satyrs passing through know him for what he is, with his pale eyes and gunmetal grey coat. The more traditional even bow to him and give him something of whatever they have. If his village was still there, he would presumably be home, training to be the next shaman. As it is, he's here. He's incomplete, intrinsic magic wounded and tangled, and satyrs who see him and know him want to help. At least none have shown up today. He clops down the sidewalk with his usual defiance. Some city satyrs give up completely, and engage in self-mutilations ranging from filing down their sharp teeth all the way up to descenting, unthinkable to Erik. Almost all of them wear human clothes, but Erik refuses to budge. He hold his head high and wears nothing but a loincloth. Most humans just scuttle past him, and he's fine with that. He's a hulking presence at the bus stop, seven feet high and still as a stone. The humans there follow the urban code and ignore him completely, but there are children on the bus, and children always stare. At least until he bares his teeth at them, gleaming white and sharp as knives. He'd never hurt a kid, but that doesn't mean he likes the little bastards.
It's pretty ironic that he's headed for a huge mass of humans who might as well be children, despite being full grown. Erik has done all the engineering courses he can by correspondence, and now he has to face the music and actually attend the university. He doesn't hate it completely, but it's close some days. He sits in the back in every class, even though his clean goat scent is weaker and far less foul than that of some of his classmates. No one speaks to him, and he returns the favor. Listening to lectures and being left alone in the library or the lab is always pleasant, but they keep trying to make him work in groups even though everyone involved hates it. At least today is just lecture. Erik is almost in a good mood by the end of it, and bypasses the commons in favor of a nearby pizzeria that makes food which is actually worth eating. Unfortunately, everyone else in the city seems to share Erik's views and timing. The place is packed, and ordinarily he'd duck out, but his favorite of everything on the menu that sells by the slice is in the merchandiser, and he's obstinate by nature and too hungry to be turned back now.
Still, as soon as Erik has four slices of steak and onion he shoulders his way out, claustrophobic in the crush. He takes a deep, relieved breath as soon as he gets outside, and hears a soft and musical laugh in response. Looking over his heart nearly stops. Erik has very good self-control, but sitting at one of the disused outdoor tables is the most beautiful faun he has ever seen. Even in his silly human clothes, he is a work of art, with a perfect face and delicate horns. He's wearing a tweed suit, but has at least hemmed the legs up to the upper thigh, revealing beautiful fur, dark on the outside of his legs and golden on the inside. and Erik is walking over to join him before he knows it. "Don't let me intrude, but it's always good to see another of the Kindred."
The faun beams, and waves him to the empty seat. "The feeling is entirely mutual." Erik settles in, nodding in gratitude and devouring the first slice. Too much bread makes him feel bloated and sick, but it has a place in his diet. The faun smiles, nibbling on a slice of margarhita. "Hungry, are we?"
"Very much. Are you a student here?"
He laughs, blue eyes sparkling. "No, a very young instructor."
"I see." Erik does see, and admires the faun very much. Most Kindred in jobs like his are the most assimilationist and self-hating. This one may be wearing clothes, but his light musk is everything it should be, and his horns thrust up proudly at his hairline, not blunted or filed down. Moreover, his sharp little faun fangs show when he smiles.
"So what are you studying--?" He lets the pause hang, asking for a name.
"Erik Lensherr. Engineering."
"Ah, no wonder I haven't seen you about the place. Charles Xavier. Genetics."