Log:Old Time Spirit: The Park Offer
| Old Time Spirit: The Park Offer | |
|---|---|
"Oh fuck off!" | |
| Participants | 2017.07.03 Green has her second run in with the Light Bringer. |
| Location
Riverside Park | |
| It's a not so quiet night in Riverside Park. There's a lot of people mingling about this evening. Given it's the day before the Fourth of July, this is not a very surprising thing. There's teens running around with roman candles acting like they're wizards and all of that fun stuff. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Braving the chill - because Vermont is perpetually cold - is Amanda Green. She's out, enjoying the evening, preparing herself for this silly holiday. Though she's not alone. Beside Green is one Nathania Winters. Hard to say what the two are doing, beyond being out, and walking, and talking. Green is dressed down. Way down, from her usual cute dress. A pair of tight tight black jeans with busted knees cover her legs, and a baja jacket (you know, the one that stoners wear) cover the rest of her. An old look, maybe, but it's Green. It's what she does! "Thought you might have ran off on me," Green says, with a faint smile, as she glances aside, to the blonde. Nathania is wearing something a bit more patriotic. Blue jeans and a white tee with a flag on it. She shakes her head to Green with an apologetic smile. "No. Just... got busy," she says. "I'm sorry," she adds. She shrugs, uncomfortable, and pulls a red hoodie off her messenger bag to drape over her shoulders. "It's... a pretty... evening, even if... the night's cold," she says after a long moment. Stupid holiday. Brits aren't the only ones who don't like it. Certain people of a radical persuasion don't care for it, either, like the Angry Young Man sitting grumpily on a park bench, frowning, with a fountain pen in his fingers as he scribbles very quickly into a small black Moleskine. Lightning winds its way down his arms and around his fingers as C.B. writes. Writes and smokes, almost as fast as he's writing. He's got on his Red Sox cap and a gray t-shirt with a pithy observation about the weather, a worn brown leather bomber jacket thrown on over that. He glances through his silver wire-rimmed glasses as the ladies approach, because at least one of them he recognizes. He follows her for awhile with his eyes, half a smirk crawling onto his face. "The explosions always have me a bit... mmm. Concerned," Green says, deciding that's probably the easiest word to grab. "Just not used it, despite how many years. Never much saw the appeal, either. Neither setting them off nor hearing them," she says. And one may guess how much of her dislike is because Green truly doesn't get it, and how much Green just hates joy, and how much Green just hates dumb Yanks. Probably equal parts. She glances aside, then. "You'll spend the night? Keep me safe from the bombs?" she asks, with a little smirk on her lips. Of course, Green's smirking draws to a halt as they come across a man on a bench. "Oh, careful, love. The homeless out here are just ruthless..." she stage whispers to Nat, loud enough that CB can surely hear it. Nathania laughs gently. "Of course.. I will." She takes Green's hand and squeezes gently, before glancing over at CB. She looks confused. "Homeless?" she says uncertainly. "He's... well dressed...." The shirt isn't too worn, anyway. Well, his fingers /are/ covered with ink, and it does look like he probably doesn't bathe as much as he should, and he is carrying an old school messenger bag covered in various antifa political buttons and the like. So maybe C.B. is one of those vagrants, and the shirt is just a fluke! "Careful, miss," he says, billowing smoke out his nostrils and glancing Nathania's way with a wry smirk. "The Brits out here are just ruthless. I hear they'll bayonet you just for being an American." There's a group of guys that are standing around a flag pole, a few with open cans of alcohol. A few of them are CLEARLY drunk. A few times they can be heard shouting "HAPPY BREXIT 1776!". Apparently they are drunk history nerds? Life is never dull in the park. Or at least not this holiday weekend. And Green's life is definitely never dull around this place. If she looks up on top of that flag pole she'll see that big golden flaming spirit eagle from her shop. It's like it's proudly celebrating the eve of the 'Murica's being independent. "You mean a terrorist rebel," Green corrects, her chin turning up just so. She holds that look for only a moment, and then it softens into a smile. "Nathania... This is Mr. C.B. Alexander. He's a published author," she says. Then a gesture. "Mr. Alexander, my friend, Nathania," she says. She gives Nat's hand a squeeze. As ever, she doesn't seek out the physical contact, but doesn't seem to shy from it, either. Before she can say anything else, she hears one of those shouts. She cringes. The height of American stupidity mashed up with the height of British stupidity. She just cringes, as she looks that way. She stares at the guys for only a moment, before her eyes drift up, up, up, to the top of the flag pole. Staring at the flag, maybe...? Nathania gives a shy smile, offering her hand. "Nice... to meet you, Mr. Alexander." She notices his Changeling-ness. As it's hard to ignore, after all. Then she squeezes Green's hand again, softly, before following her gaze upward. Then she shrugs and turns to CB. "What... do you write, Mr. Alexander?" "You say 'terrorist rebel' like it's a bad thing," C.B. notes with a slightly crazy little grin. He gives Nathania's hand a little shake, sparks spurting out everywhere as he does so, though they won't hurt her. "Yeah, nice to meet you too, Nathania." He too stares over at the shouting guys, eyes narrowing, and looks about two seconds away from screaming something back at them. He seems to contain himself for long enough to answer Nathania. "Everything, but mostly novels. Right now, the deranged scribblings of an idle brain." The fountain pen he was using is closed in the Moleskine. "What brings you two out on this nearly-most-idiotic-of-all-nights?" The college guys mill about around the flag pole still, drinking their beer and talking way too loud for a public place, but, this is drunk people for you. They don't really bother anyone else. They just loiter. The kids playing with the roman candles run by the three, brightly colored balls of napalm aimed at the others. When Green looks up, the spirit seems to sense it's being gazed upon. It turns it's head sharply, looking down at the little British woman. The he starts to descend. All glorious golden flames and feathers coming to sit about ten feet away from the group. And from there the spirit just stares unblinkingly at Green. "Oh, bloody hell," Green curses, and looks quickly away, over towards CB. She blinks a few times, then, as she realizes those words don't quite match anything that was said up to this point. "Sorry, what?" she asks. Then she looks to Nat, too, as if maybe she asked a question. Clearly, Green was distracted. And maybe less clearly, but if either of them watches closely, it seems like Green is pointedly making overt eye contact. Which means not looking away. Nathania stares at Green. "Mr. Alexander... asked why we're out... tonight. I was about... to reply." She shakes her head a little. "Mr. Alexander," she says, looking back at him, "We're out... tonight to... avoid the crowds tomorrow, but we.. still wanted... to take a walk." She glances back at Green again, eyebrow raised, like 'what is going on with you.'
Green's attention might be split between her friends and the flaming eagle spirit. But the spirits attention /isn't/ split. It struts across the rest of the distance and simply flies up to settle on her shoulder, wrapping his wing around the other, "Hello again." it states to her. "You can call him 'Cee-Babe'. That one makes his face do this delightful little twist..." Green starts, all merry and happy and entirely content to fake like nothing at all has happened, until rather suddenly, she shudders, and jerks away from Nathania. "Cor! You don't just-..." And yes, Green has whirled and screamed at... What? Nathania? No, her focus is... not quite on Nat. More so, it's on some air between her and Nat. But Green catches herself. She quickly looks to CB, then to Nat. "... Sorry, sorry! Just-..." There's a breath, and then a hiss. What comes out of her lips next, well. CB would recognize it. Nat? Probably not. But the language is guttaral and strange. Almost Arabic or Hebrew sounding. Nathania stares, taking a step back from Green. "Uh. Do... you recognize... what this is, CB?" she asks him, button eyes the size of saucers. "Knowledge." The spirit on her shoulder answers easily. "You have some that I seek. About the Dark Ones." it states. There's a look to Nathania and then to CB before looking to her, molten eyes serious and fixed on her, "And I will give you something in turn for your knowledge." it nods and clicks it's beak. Indeed, Cee-Babe's face makes that precise delightful little twist, lips all scrunched up like he's just bitten into some rotten fruit...until Green starts freaking out, at least. He purses his lips and smacks them together, glancing from Green over to Nat. "Sorta, yeah, but I don't know how much Miz Green would want me sharing with you." He sighs laboriously and gets up to his feet, grabbing his messenger bag while he's at it and sliding the notebook back into it. "Okay, Green, help us help you. I assume Nathania here is your friend enough that you can clue her in on what's going on." "Well you can fuck right off!" Green says, to the air. It's followed by a grunt, and a repeat of words, those coming out in that weird proto-language that just sounds awful. It's followed by a 'hmph'. Smart money is on CB and Nat having just witnessed a proper and polite English woman telling the air to fuck off in the first language ever spoken. After that's said, she blinks, and then seems to become aware that she's not alone. "Oh, uh-... Sorry! It's... just a-... we... can we keep walking?" she asks, though she's looking vaguely nervous. Nathania nods to CB, understanding secrets... even as she watches Green with a worried look on her face, wringing her hands slowly. She bites her lip, tugging at it softly with her teeth. Then she looks at CB before looking back at Green. "I... guess so?" she says. "Why don't I join you?" C.B. says with the air of someone not asking, all furrowed brow and hunched shoulders as he steps up to Green's other side. It's like her nervousness is contagious or something, because he takes her other arm like he was supposed to have been there all the time. "Okay, let's go. One-two, one-two." Green's answer makes the spirit laugh. It's inhuman sounding, but full of mirth in any case. The golden eagle uses Green's shoulder as a spring board into the air, talons skimming over the fabric of her jacket as it does, "I shall visit you another time." it states before it flies off. Everyone in Green's little group can feel a cold gust of wind, followed by an echo of inhuman sounding laughter on the breeze as they start off. Green gives a wince, suddenly, and there's another odd jerk. Then comes that gust of wind. Green doesn't look anywhere but ahead. She steps forward, and reaches out for Nat's hand once more. She looks aside, to CB, and she gives a quick nod. He can see the discomfort in her eyes, faint but present. Really, considering how often she's entirely inscrutable, it really stands out. Green starts forward. "Just... need to keep walking," she murmurs. Nathania starts a moment, before looking around--although she doesn't stop. She takes Green's hand once again and walks with her and CB, eyes big, glancing over her shoulder once to make sure they're not being followed. "Okay," she says softly. "We'll walk." She doesn't ask questions. She just keeps going, hand in Green's, proverbial hackles up. "Yeeeeeep, we're going." C.B. has an almost practical air about him. Like this happens every day, and this is how you feal. Done. He walks fast, and tries to guide Green along just as fast, should Green and Nathania be able to keep up. But his focus is entirely on Green. He's watching her, watching the faint discomfort, very closely. Like he doesn't want it to get away. | |
