Bagheera meets Mowgli

Maybe it’s time he found another people.

Bagheera, who’d been previously occupied with a long afternoon nap in the shaded branches of an old Neem tree, pricked his ears in the direction of soft, telltale pawsteps. His great black head lifted, eyes blinking with respectful affection for the wolf.

“Greetings, Raksha.”

Hear the roar of adventure. The Jungle Book is now in theatres.

MAMA ODIE FACILIER: Clemént Facilier was introduced to voodoo by his mother. Odie Facilier’s family tree has a long lineage of women of power. Duchesses from far away lands Clemént never got to visit and witches so powerful that they had whole villages named after them. His mother would often tell him bedtime stories about his great great great grandmothers and how beautiful and wealthy they were. Clemént, however, hadn’t had the same luck; born into poverty and doomed to a life of very few luxuries, Clemént often felt as if he was the black sheep of the lineage. For a long time he blamed his hard working father’s genes for his misfortune. He believed he had inherited the failure which ran through his blood, but papa Facilier was really just a honest hard working man who often drowned his disappointment in his lack of progress at his workplace with cheap alcohol.  Clemént was very unhappy with his family’s financial situation and his own lack of “greatness”. Mama Facilier, knowing this, offered her son a talisman of good luck. She told him it would protect Clemént from evil. And for a long time, it did. As Facilier grew up he began to have fewer problems at school, made more friends and although his studies wouldn’t develop once he finished his “high school” education, his interest in mama’s books and work grew along with him. He learned everything he could with mama Facilier and even helped her around her voodoo shop. But once papa Facilier died due to a mixture of heavy alcohol consumption and unprescribed drugs, teenage Clemént rebelled. The rich and powerful pushed the minorities onto the slums and let them die there. He claimed the celebrities of Louisiana to be injecting drugs and crime onto his community in hopes that it would kill them faster. And through this cocktail of grief, jealousy and teenage angst, Clemént turned towards darker practices. Communicating with the spirits of beyond, shaking hands with immaterial beings, asking them for vile favors of revenge in exchange for the precious talisman his mother had given to him as a child! Mama Odie was heartbroken. Although she desperately tried to protect her son and the people of New Orleans this only alienated her child even more to the point of using his new acquired connections against his own mother, kicking her out from her home and threatening her. Mama Odie was deeply hurt. She left to the swamps and left her son and family name behind with him. New Orleans had nothing left to offer her. And Dr. Facilier scratched the name “Clemént” given to him by his mother. For she had failed to understand the true villain in this story was not him.

Almost involuntarily, Bagheera’s claws loosed, deceptively velvet paws tense against the branch at the mention of Mowgli.

“I’ve no interest in the prey you seek, Khan.” The panther rumbled, bitterness writ in the narrowing of his green eyes. “But I can tell you, O great cat, that if you do make good with your intention to harm the man-cub, I can assure you will be met with…difficulty. Thus far, we have remained at peace. I have no war with you, Khan,”

At that, Bagheera curled his paws beneath his chest, tail coming to wrap against his side with the likeness of a tame house cat. The treachery of his benign veneer came to bare in the form of a toothy grin, sabre-like incisors glinting in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

“Let us not resort to violence.”

loud administrative director gesturing

OOC: loud CEO hissing 

"this house is too big for you to live in alone"

"but-"

"no"

"BUT"

"No"

OOC: headcanon that is wasn’t Khan’s idea to have lie-in interns, it was some other higher up (eyes Baggy) and Khan wants nothing more than to pretend that they don’t exist.

ALRIGHT FRIENDS

So, corporate office wise, I'm thinking that there's some massive building complex much like the Nike campus, with multiple structures that have different names and addresses and etcetera inner city. We already know that the Khan Estate is far off in the jungle (you do not go there; even Bāgha rarely has to make an appearance, there's really no reason for anyone to be there except for maids, Benjamin, a few service staff working under Ben and Khan himself). As far as corporate offices go, this one is rivaled by very few in size and stateliness. Except, of course, for King Louie's company.

GET THEM OUT

KHAN THEYRE IN THE HOUSE GET THEM OUT

Right…so this I how I imagine the KHAN ESTATE.

Their is obviously the corporate office which is where the people do their business. A giant and impressive building, the largest in the city without a doubt.

Yet the KHAN MANOR is located some ways out of the city, far beyond the urban sprawl (India is pretty crowded).

It’s an old house, dating back to colonial times and it overlooks the village, with the Jungle at it’s back.

It’s out of the way for the most part and this is where Benjamin (the Butler works).

I’m just saying this because I doubt Khan would live in his corporate office. No. He’d live in that beautiful manor at the jungle’s edge.

I was literally thinking this and really concerned about why all of these interns were showing up at his house but I

???

Just went with it???

Right…so this I how I imagine the KHAN ESTATE.

Their is obviously the corporate office which is where the people do their business. A giant and impressive building, the largest in the city without a doubt.

Yet the KHAN MANOR is located some ways out of the city, far beyond the urban sprawl (India is pretty crowded).

It’s an old house, dating back to colonial times and it overlooks the village, with the Jungle at it’s back.

It’s out of the way for the most part and this is where Benjamin (the Butler works).

I’m just saying this because I doubt Khan would live in his corporate office. No. He’d live in that beautiful manor at the jungle’s edge.

The woman was met by an escort to usher her up to the fourteenth floor of the estate, bringing her to a door marked with an immaculate placard that read "Mr. Kingsley". There was a brief moment of silence before the door opened to an equally immaculate office, empty save for a few potted plants for sparse decoration and a countertop juxtaposed to an ornate mahogany desk.

A tall man sipping from a green mug welcomed her inside, rifling through his paperwork to fetch the intern her itinerary.

"Ms. Kipling, I presume?" Bāgha said, less a question than a statement. "Here is your schedule. If I could take your résumé and legal information?"

Kingsley had seen nearly forty interns this day alone, and with each one that passed, his patience had began to wear.

An intern for Khan Industries Oil company. Not the kind of after school job that an 18-year-old high school student who wanted to be a veterinarian wanted, but she guessed that because she lived in a village her options were limited and she needed to make money for college somehow. She was lucky she could afford her car to drive there. 

Once arriving at the estate she was shocked at how large it was and she supposed she should count herself lucky she had a job at all. She got out of her car and brushed some of her long, brown hair away from her face before smoothing out her dress a bit. “Here goes nothing” she said to herself as she walked to the front door, ringing the doorbell. 

@born-incaptivity

"Breaking. Taking your break. We do not schedule for fifteens, only a half hour for lunch middleshift; you are owed two of the former on an eight hour schedule." The man strode over to the Keurig, popping in a mocha capsule and setting it to brew.

At the barrage of secondary questions, Bāgha turned back to the boy, removing his spectacles and forking them on his pocket lapel.

"Mr. Kahn comes and goes as he pleases, mostly to keep our motley crew on its toes. He is very...hands-on, so to speak. My name is Bāgha Kingsley, Mr. Kingsley if you please."

The rich scent of coffee bubbled forth from the Keurig, refreshing in the otherwise sterile office. Kingsley pulled a green mug from the stainless steel cupboard just above the countertop, fitting it under the dispenser. He let his gaze linger on the brew, speaking over his shoulder at the intern.

"Is there anything further?"

born-incaptivity:

“Singhal, Singhal,” Bāgha sorted through his paperwork, pulling from the stack the intern’s itinerary. “Ah, here we are. Your assignment is in the Nexus building; you are to report promptly,” he eyed the boy over his wire rims, emphasizing his words with a pointed quirk of one well kempt brow. “The work is simple enough. Filing, ordering and breaking when necessary. If Mr. Khan makes an appearance –as he often does- keep your eyes low and look busy. You will speak only when spoken to when not amongst your peers,”

The man smoothed over his suit, handing over the multisheet schedule.

“If you have questions, my extension is listed at the top of your itinerary. I am a very busy man, but I will do my best.”

Moti was already having quite a few questions pile up in his mind, but as the other man explained, he was a very busy man so the teen decided to keep them to himself for the time being. “Filing…ordering…Those I understand, but what about the breaking?” Okay, so he’d made an exception or two question wise. “And when does Mr. Khan come through? Is it on a schedule like we have or is it whenever he wants?” Staring at the piece of paper that he’d been given, he arched a brow ever so slightly. “Thank you then Mr…?” 

"Singhal, Singhal," Bāgha sorted through his paperwork, pulling from the stack the intern's itinerary. "Ah, here we are. Your assignment is in the Nexus building; you are to report promptly," he eyed the boy over his wire rims, emphasizing his words with a pointed quirk of one well kempt brow. "The work is simple enough. Filing, ordering and breaking when necessary. If Mr. Khan makes an appearance --as he often does- keep your eyes low and look busy. You will speak only when spoken to when not amongst your peers,"

The man smoothed over his suit, handing over the multisheet schedule.

"If you have questions, my extension is listed at the top of your itinerary. I am a very busy man, but I will do my best."

born-incaptivity:

“Enter. Have a seat.”

Bāgha Kingsley, a tall man at 6'4", dressed in a finely tailored Hermès seersucker, spoke in a manner that suggested he had very little time for far too many appointments. His tone was direct, not without tact or politeness; a fine lilt of West London posh and hearty Punjab influence.

“Coffee?” Kingsley gestured to a Keurig sitting opposite his ornate desk, white glass mugs lined neatly beside.

Picking up his belongings, Moti went inside following the man for what seemed to be quite some time until they came to an office. “Huh? Oh, no thanks.” the intern replied as he glanced around, realizing only now that he had been addressed. This place was absolutely amazing! Sitting down as instructed, he placed his bag down again, crossing his legs as he still took in his surroundings with a smile. “This place is….just….wow! So are you my boss or is that somebody else?” 

Shardul Khan is the founder and current CEO of Khan industries. Although considered arrogant, rebellious, and prone to violent behaviour, he is known to be a hard worker and an excellent business man. His company is unrivalled in all of India, however, Khan’s casual contempt of authority figures (and, according to some sources, the law itself) has made him somewhat unpopular amongst others of his trade.

He is reasonably respectful and considerate towards his underlings, but has no tolerance for ineptitude or laziness. When in his presence, you are advised to look busy, lest you incite the CEO’s wrath.