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Log Title: Monster in Jackson Square
Log setting: Jackson Square, evening
Log Cast:
Wendy
Trace
Savannah
Catherine
TooFar
Kenjiro
Meilyan
Daniel
And guest starring the Monster, played by our King of Tears.
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Trace is belly down on the cement, lost in one of his pictures. Scritchscritchscritch. A delicate line is drawn between his brows as he works. The picture itself is a house drawn in chalks and sharp black charcoals -- actually, knowing something of Trace's history, you'd probably recognize this as being strikingly similar to that place he called home back on Moss Street, though he's drawn the house after years abandonned, now falling to decay. Part of the roof has sunken in. The willow hangs barren and leafless before the porch, and the old swing hangs tenuously crooked by one chain. This is not the sort of picture that will earn him spare change, though he does have the cup out, and a few sad nickles and dimes clutter the bottom.
Funny, how fate has decided Wendy's path will lead right past Trace and his drawing. Her near-silent footsteps lead her right up to his chalk-drawing, and there she pauses. Hands in her pockets still, she cants her head to the side to study it from a new angle, then again for another. Finally she murmurs, "I like it better that way."
Wendy is standing above Trace. The boy is belly-down on the cement, chalking something onto the sidewalk while the woman stands above to watch.
Trace is startled just a moment, craning his head back to peer up at you. "Do you?" he says softly. He picks himself up off the concrete, positioning himself in a crosslegged position, as is more proper when dealing with maidens. There's some charcoal smudged on his shirt, which he wipes off before looking back to the picture, done mostly in desolate blacks and browns and greys. "Nobody'll ever live there," he imagines softly, aloud. "It was meant for us, but now it'll just wear down an' crumble an' the bugs'll take it back down into the earth." He nods a little. It all seems very fitting. Still softly, eyes lingering on the black windows of the house, "What brings ya to the square, Wendy-maiden?"
Wendy murmurs, her raspy voice harsh, "I heard someone mention this absolutely marvellous artist, busy at work here, and thought to come see the master at work." Faint amusement colors the words. She pauses, then notes, "Sometimes, it doesn't matter what it will be. It matters what it is."
Trace colors and shakes his head depreciatingly at your praise, grinning a little. Your second comment seems to confuse him a little, and his smile falls away, replaced by thoughtfully pursed lips and eyes that fall back to the concrete. "Um... Doan' matter what it will be, jest what it is?" He bites at his lip before admitting, "Right now it's like it was before, I guess. Jest gotta F'Sale sign stuck inna yard. Nobody'd know t'look at it that it's jest an' empty shell of a house now, s'not a warm home like it was... An' it's all draped about with bad memories of our sins. S'why Walker an' Ben can't live there no more, I guess. It haunts 'em."
Wendy dips her head in a nod to Trace, "Sometimes it's best to move on, yes my dear." Then she's glancing sidelong towards the drawing to murmur, "Not always, sir. Somethings are kept in memory forever."
Trace looks up sharply at Wendy, pulled from his thoughts by something she said that itches at him. Finally he accuses with a half-grin, "Yer not 'poseta call me Sir. Yer poseta call me 'my dear'. 'Member?" The picture is perhaps finished for now as Trace tosses the charcoal bit he was holding back into the styrafoam cup before looking back to Wendy.
Wendy arches a too-thin brow at Trace, "Aren't you a knight protector, my dear? They're called 'sir' as often as anything else, as a mark of respect." She clicks her tongue lightly, a faint chide in her rasp as she notes, "You overgeneralize."
Trace grins at that. "I'm jest not used to it. Maidens was different than reg'ler people, they din' hafta use no 'sirs' and 'my lords', they could say what they wanted." He shrugs a little, then looks at Wendy thoughtfully before murmuring with the start of a smile touching his lips, "I miss seein' yer bugs. I liked how they scurried."
Wendy glances away from Trace for a moment, her already thin lips tightening even thinner, then returns attention to him. "Do you, my dear?" A twitched almost-smile is presented, "Well, I'd offer to let you see them again, but I'm afraid your Lord would protest the doing."
"I know, I know..." Trace mumbles. Indeed, the Lord is picky about such things, isn't he? "Don't. I mean, I wasn't sayin' you should lemme see. I was jest was lettin' you know I missed 'em. An' also that I 'Member 'em. It can get awful confusin' when you forget everythin' alla time an' I'm glad I'm better now." He tilts his head to the side and says softly, "Did you know TooFar -- that boy with the feathers you magicked' -- he 'Members too? Jason says he's special. Dunno why, though."
Savannah has arrived.
Trace perks right up at that, a mischievous smile touching his lips, "Why, no." He chuckles, fingers toying absently with a fringe on his jeans. "TooFar's always so cheery an' confident... Always got that smirk. I mean, I like him. He's my friend, y'know?" His grin broadens wider still. "But even so. I mean, it just made it that much weirder seein' him all shaken up over whatever y'made him see." He doesn't outright ask, but his expectant eyes seem to suggest that he wants in on whatever you did to him.
Savannah�s Desc:
In keeping with her mellow amazon air, Savannah has her cornsilk hair in bound up tight in a french braid just past her shoulders. She's wearing plain blue jeans, black ankle boots, a white T-shirt with a knotwork symbol on the chest that seems like a cross between a pentacle and a clover with the word 'Kosmos' below it and sage green flight jacket with orange lining.
Wendy gives the boy an almost-smile, eyelids heavy. "Maybe I'll show you sometime... you're welcome to ask your Lord if he minds. He's welcome to watch, for protection." Shoulders roll in a too-fluid shrug before she continues to rasp, "Was he truly shaken up?" My, she almost sounds hungry. What an odd bird.
Trace narrows his eyes with playful suspicion and shakes his head, frazzled braids tossed about his shoulders gently. "Yeah, he was. He was all jumpy the rest'a the night, which is just... dunno, weird on TooFar, coz he's the type that jest seems t'dance by troubles an' lets everythin' roll off him so easy. He's always smilin' y'know? But anyway... Naw, I dunno if I'd wanna feel it jest like you whatever you showed TooFar. Naw, I'm all fer hearin', coz I'm curious what cleverness managed t'take that boy's everlastin' smile f'the evenin', but..." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug.
Wendy pulls a pale hand from her pocket, and gestures the boy forward while she leans down a bit. "Here, I'll tell you then. But you'll need to keep it a secret if I do... mustn't tell even your fireheart." Her rasp is confiding. "It's not something we share information about often."
Trace looks to Wendy for a moment, torn. Because... well, he simply *doesn't* hide things from Jason. It just doesn't happen. And yet... This is something that really has nothing to do with his own safety or anything that'd be Jason's concern. Just a bit of gossip about how TooFar got the wool pulled over his eyes. He hesitates a moment longer and then grins, nodding a little. "Alright. I won't tell, I promise." From where he's seated on the sidewalk, he leans closer to the woman to hear. Beside him on the sidewalk is a chalk drawing of a house, a two-story building that's crumbling apart with age and neglect, all done in melancholy greys and browns and sharp charcoal blacks.
You sense Wendy whispers, "I colored his sight with the nightmares he keeps hidden... the shadows are darker and lights dimmer when you see them through that sort of vision, my dear. I was tired of his smiling and laughter, so I removed them for a time.
Trace can't help but chuckle his approval at that, admitting, "He does smile an awful lot. Dunno, nobody should be 'llowed to smile alla time like that. You did right to give him a night off." More is whispered, softer, eyes still slightly wide with that wonder that comes to him so naturally, even when speaking of such things.
Savannah skips off of a passing bus, purposely hopping the last two steps with a grin. The motion looks almost extra childish on her not only mature, but tall frame.
You whisper "Well, I'm glad I didn' let you try a trick like that on me. Who knows how my hidden nightmares would color my world... And I doan' think Jason'd like it much. But anyway, I wonder what TooFar saw... Did he tell you?" to Wendy.
A pale hand darts out, snaky fingers tracing over Trace's cheek for a brief moment, "I'd love to see your nightmares, my dear." Was that a compliment? Wendy straightens up, shaking her head. "He didn't. He was too busy trying to keep away from me."
The tall blonde fresh from the bus thrusts her hands in her pockets as he goes from skip to a normal stand and looks around, lips still quirked as she scans the square. Jackson, sidewalk, sidewalk drawing, blue-hair, labcoat weirdo, trashcan-.. wait, labcoat weirdo and blue hair! Flashing a wider smile, Savannah makes her way for the duo with long strides.
Trace hmfs, "Well, that's a waste, innit? I mean, if ya gonna go to the trouble, it'd be nice to know what he saw... Ah well." He chuckles a little, but then grows thoughtful as something occurs to him. He's not sure yet though, so he busies himself with emptying the donation cup's meager contents into the palm of his hand and then opening up the beat up canvas satchel he almost always carries with him and empties the change into one of the little side pockets. "Maybe I still d'want you to do to me the trick you pulled on TooFar, but... There's a way I could let you see," he admits softly. "I could--" But he stops as this towering blonde chick walks up, blinking up at her curiously. What's this? Hmm, maybe he emptied out the tip cup too soon. Then again, she might not be here for art appreciation at all.
Wendy turns a bit before Savannah gets too close, slanting the woman a sidelong glance from beneath thick lashes. She faces her more fully, recognition flickering for a few heartbeats. Once the younger woman is close enough, she arches a too-thin brow and rasps out, "Cousin?"
A couple more strides and Savannah's shadow falls on the Trace's chalk sketch. The tall blonde flashes a grin down at the pale, gaunt woman and unpockets a hand to give her a little wave. "I am if you are."
Trace looks between the two women, brows lifted a little at the play between them. "She's yer cousin?" he wonders frankly, squinting at the blonde woman and honestly not seeing a bit of resemblence.
Wendy's own hand moves to offer a handshake. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Ms. Sauvrete." Man, that is an /ugly/ rasp. She glances over at Trace to murmur, "Distantly, yes. The lady's come to stay in the city for a bit... right, my dear?" That last directed at the taller, younger, blonder, healthier woman.
Savannah bends at the waist, almost bowing, in order to grasp the much smaller and sitting Wendy's offered hand. Cousins? Must be distant, yeah.. they can't possibly be sharing many genes beyond those X chromosomes. "Aym back home if that's what you're meaning, Madam." She flashes her easy smile again, first at Wendy then briefly at Trace. "Yeah, cousins. Nice catch-all word. Hi, by the way."
"Hi," Trace offers easily enough, giving the woman a smile. Any 'cousins' of Wendy are friends of his? Well no, because then we'd have to include Bonnie. But this lady, she's alright so far. He leans over and mumbles something at Wendy very briefly, brows lifting a little, but straightens quick enough. He knows it's rude to whisper in front of people, and blushes a little because of it.
Purple, gold, and vermillion clouds grace the western sky as the sun descends toward the horizon.
You whisper "Do you really mean she's Different?" How embarrassing, but he just can't see things like that right now. "Or... what?"" to Wendy.
Wendy gives the boy a shake of her head, her lips twitching a bit in faint smile. Attention returns to Savannah so she can murmur her polite pleasantries: "Your trip wasn't too terrible, I hope my dear?"
Savannah releases Wendy's hand and straightens up again, smiling and nodding casually to Wendy. "The entire crew of the chopper decided to toss me out on flyby instead of landing and that was only if I agreed to surrender my bra. Nothing I'm not used to." Take it or leave it, that's her story and she's grinning through it.
Wendy's eyes flicker closed for a moment at the story, then they're at half-mast again. The motion was quick, barely noticable at all. "A calamity, my dear... however did you handle it?"
Trace gives Wendy a confused glance, but nods. Alright. Then Savannah speaks, and gee, that sounds like a tale Jason would have spouted. Okay, Trace likes you more now. He giggles a little. "Did you give up yer bra? Did they want it so they could dangle you down to the ground?"
Savannah grins wider and shrugs. Ah, a taker. Two even! Always welcome. "What's a girl to do? I bargined them down to a landing if I surrendered my socks and collection of Tazmanian grass seed too. Marines are a greedy bunch of boys."
Catherine comes slowly walking up along St. Ann, making her way through the crowds, and as she nears the square, she veers off to cross it. Taking her time to admire some of the street performers along the way, she heads into the general direction of the statue that stands in the middle of Jackson Square.
Wendy shakes her head, "A master negotiator, my dear... I'm in awe." She's murmuring at Savannah with Trace in the conversation as well.
Savannah, a tall woman, is standing by Wendy and Trace who are sitting on the sidewalk and talking to them with mirth in her occasional shifting step. "A girl does what a girl's gotta do. Lucky I just had a generic brand support on and no nice ones."
The orange-red sun sinks below the western horizon, leaving a darkening tapestry of purple and red-gold clouds behind it.
Trace laughs and shakes his head faintly with amusement. "Guess my lesson f'the day is t'always have clean socks an' some spare Tazmanian grass seeds, jest t'be safe." He nods sagely and it's about then that he spies Catherine through the crowds. He starts to lift a hand to wave, but seems dubious that she'd see him at this distance. Plus, he's crouched down rather low to the concrete. Behind him is a sidewalk sketch of a house fallen to decay with age, left too long unloved and abandonned. It's done in melancholy browns, greys, and sharp charcoal black. Cathy would probably recognize it as Walker and Ben's old home on Moss Street.
Wendy brings a pale hand up to her chest, touching lightly, "A lesson to keep to heart indeed." She cants her head to the side, "It was a pleasure seeing you, my dear... perhaps we can set up a time to have tea with my sister?" That to Savannah. "I'm afraid I have an appointment to keep in just a few moments."
Savannah nods agreeably, splitting her fingers in a Vulcan salute to Wendy as if this is the most normal thing to do in the world. "Sure thing, cousin, and clean socks wouldn't have bought me an exchange. They wanted my socks, soiled my me. Personal touch and all you know. Otherwise, why bargin for what you can just buy in the shop?" Yes, really. That's her story and she's nodding through it.
Catherine is busily pushing her way through the tourists that fill the square. Being short of stature doesn't really helps, and all those camera wielding people are hardly paying attention where they are walking, as long as they can take their photos. Still, she makes it over to the statue in fairly good time, and just to make sure that they won't get any clear pictures of that, she climbs up on the pedistal, after making sure no policeofficers are near.
Wendy's breath escapes in a faint ahhh of satisfaction at that. "Very true, my dear. I'll be in touch." She nods down to Trace, "Take care, Sir? I do need a whole knight protector, after all."
"I'll take care," the blue-haired boy nods. "Thanks for stoppin' by an' seein' my drawing, Wendy-maiden. Maybe some other time I can show ya... what I was gonna show ya. If you still wanted."
Wendy rasps, "I can hardly wait." Then she's tucking hands into pocket and turning to walk away, moving at a slow, easy pace.
The waning crescent moon, tracing a nearby wisp of cloud in silver, sinks below the western horizon. The stars sparkle in the ultramarine sky, distant and serene.
Wendy heads uptown.
Savannah grins widely and waves after Wendy long after the woman can't see or hear her anymore. "Remember! Underwear is a big bargining chip and soiling is the plus!"
Catherine looks around from her vantage point, and suddenly notices the gap in the crowd. She peers over, then smiles brightly and almost takes a running leap down the statue, still landing carefully on her feet, but she hurries over towards the drawing on the ground. Once she gets close enough to see it and it's artist clearly, she smiles and says to Trace, "Hi.. Wow, is that what it really looks like right now?", nodding towards the drawing.
Well, the sun's now set, which makes more drawing pretty much impossible. Trace slings his canvas bag over his shoulder and picks himself off the concrete carefully. Doesn't look like he's going anywhere really, just stretching out those cramped, achey muscles that you never realize you've earned until *after* the drawing's complete. He starts to peer around for Cathy, since he's lost sight of her in the crowd, but soon she solves that problem by bounding right up to him. He blinks with faint surprise and chuckles, shaking his head. "Naw, naw... course not. S'jest how I picture it'd be, if nobody came to fill it again."
Savannah bounces on the balls of her feet a bit once Wendy is beyond a doubt well out of sight and possible earshot. She thrusts both hands back into her jacket pockets and looks sideways at Trace. To talk or not to talk further to the lad? Seems a girl has shown up. Maybe it's time to bug? The tall blonde looks off towards the statue and Cathy.
Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.
Catherine looks at the tall woman, but then turns back to Trace, too enthousiast to talk to him again. She smiles a little, and says softly, "Yeah, a house that doesn't get lived in... It needs a family, doesn't it? It's what makes houses be alive, and makes it alltogether feel good. I hope it will... and I hope that the family will also sort of.. well.. survive.. or somehow.. That it won't completely end." She gives him a gentle smile, as she watches him, knowing it is a bit of a sensitive subject.
Yeah, it is. Geez, Cathy, rub it in! Heh, no, it's alright. Trace just smiles sadly and shakes his head. "Dunno... Might be able to hang out with Batiste again sometime when things're less a mess, but --" The smile falls away as he looks down, rolling his shoulders. "Walker pretty much hates us and they basically told us it was over and we couldn't be their boys no more." He blows out a sigh. Well, that was a pick-me-up. Let's find a distraction. You know, there's this tall chick hanging around, and she's a distraction. Hey tall chick, get back here. "Hey, um. This is Wendy's cousin... Have you guys met? This is Cathy, and um." He blushes. "Well, Wendy only said yer last name. Um, I'm Trace, by the way."
Ever ready to shine, the tall blonde grins and waves at the girl hanging on the statue and yells out, "Hi! Make sure you got some Tazmanian grassseed and dirty socks if you're ever stuck in a chopper!" That good samaritan message delivered with a wink, she turns back to Trace and offers her hand, looking down at him. "I'm Savannah. Charmed. Like the hair."
Catherine frowns a little, and looks down at the pavement, silently cursing at herself. Not exactly a great greeting for Trace, making him feel that way. But then she grins, and she steps right up to Trace, then puts an arm around his waist, and looking up says, "Well, you could be my boy if you like.." She winks and giggles, sounding a bit joking, as if trying to take the edge of the conversation. Then she looks up to Savannah, and waves with her other hand, "Hi, pleased to meet you."
Trace takes Savannah's hand and shakes it, "Yeah, good t'know ya." Retrieving his hand, he starts to giggle at Cathy's words, but then looks over at the younger girl as her offer really sink in, and quirks a grin. Hmm.. "You still want me t'be yer boy, even though you hate my piercins' and would prolly be pissed if I blazed up Savannah's Tazmanian grass?" Of course, there's probably no such Tazmanian grass seeds for all Trace knows, so the question seems half teasing at best, and he bumps at her hip playfully.
Savannah grins at the duo of you, thrusting her hand back in pocket after Trace releases it. "Charmed I'm sure, kid," she says to Catherine. "Always good to know what you want, I always say. This boy belong to you? He's quick. Got potential."
Catherine giggles softly and wriggles an eyebrow when she says, "Well, I guess I can learn to live with the tazmanian grass, whatever that is.. And there's always bolt cutters for those piercings." She grins up at Trace, then looks rather quickly back towards Savannah, but remains like she is, lightly against Trace's side, and the arm still around him. There's a faint hint of redness to her cheeks, but she's trying to joke it off, as she nods to Savannah and says with a wink, "Yeah, I usually keep a better eye on him, but he slipped out the door before I knew it."
Savannah nods sagely at Catherine, step shifting with untapped energy. "Yeah, the door's aways the trick before you got 'em trained not to run off. Training is different for all of 'em too. Gotta try lots of different techniques." Well, let's talk about Trace as if he's not only a dog, but not here. OK! "Guess you probably haven't branched out too far yet though, huh?" She's serious. Honest.
Trace's eyes widen a little at Savannah's words and especially Catherine's response. Whoa! Waitasec. He looks over at her, then at Savannah and then finally laughs softly. "Okay, first of all, ain't nobody -- y'hear me? NOBODY takin' a bolt cutter to my piercins! They stay an' that's that. I love 'em. Very much." So nyeah. And second... Wait, was there a second? He can't remember the second. Great. Well, the first was pretty important. He lets it slide. Okay, now Savannah's going off again. You girls are so confusing, geez. "Whatchya talking about, branching out an' training?" He peers up at her.
Catherine giggles at Savannah and nods quickly, then shakes her head, and says, "Well, I've really only recently started working with him, so it's still a long process ahead. But I think we're getting somewhere.." She looks sideways up at Trace, and grins, listening to his laugh, then turns back to Savannah and says with a wink, "See? He's still a bit stuborn, but we'll get that metal out of him yet."
"No!" Trace laughs, and all but stomps his foot in childish refusal. "My steel... it's jest, it's a beautiful thing, okay? Y'gotta learn to appreciate it. Ain't nobody takin' my steel, no way, no how." He 'hmfs' softly for good measure, reaching up to bat some braids out of his eyes. "Can't nobody train me, neither. I'm a wildman! Wildmen don't get trained. They gobble you up if you try."
Savannah flashes Catherine a grin and nods knowingly. Trace is here? Not important. Important thing is to talk to the girl about how to snare the boy. "Yeah, they all are at the start and trust me hon, I've known the worst. I was a Marine for eight years and every dog has his day. Keep at it, girlfriend."
Catherine giggles as she looks sideways up at Trace again, and she gives him a light push with her hips, bumping him sideways, "Ohh, but that's just the charm of it all, isn't it? Taming the wildman?" She grins at Savannah, and says, "Well, I've only just started, and I'm fairly confident we'll work it all out.. It just needs a little time."
Savannah gives Catherine a thumbs up, still grinning, still ignoring Trace. Aren't women just annoying that way? "That's the curse of womankind there. Wanting to tame the wildman. Best of luck to you, Cathy."
In along from the downtown side of things wanders TooFar, some waif of a streetcreature in an odd jacket. Smoking like tobacco ignition provided fuel for his locomotion, he makes his way in to the Square. Trace is easily spotted, on account of his blue hair, and thus he moves to intercept, "Hey there, man," he grins when he gets close enough, casting an eye over his company. They get a nod in greeting. Hi people.
See, that's it. Trace makes an exasperated sound, though still grinning and playful as he breaks away from where Cathy's arm has snagged around his waist and takes her by the shoulders, looking at her firmly. He won't be ignored now, see? He's right in your face! "I ain't ever gonna be tamed," he says, still with a half grin. "But. You be my girl f'tonight, kay? And I'll be yer boy. Jest coz I ain't been nobody's boy f'too long and I miss it, but you gotta promise not t'be talkin' no more 'bout takin' way my steel, coz I'd *die* without 'em!" He giggles at that. "Seriously." Oh wait, check it out, Toofar's here. He looks over, still hanging onto one of Cathy's shoulders, but the other hand frees up to offer a wave. "How's it goin', man?" Hey, you get to come meet the tall chick too, even though she's helping inspire these 'training him' ideas in Cathy. "Meet Savannah." He gestures to the blonde.
There's not much to this TooFar, that's apparent. His jacket sorta adds bulk to him, but it's an illusion easily seen though. He's a couple inches taller than Trace, his strawberry blond hair falling to his shoulders and seeming to mingle and interweave with the feathers that make up the odd duster. Surreal blue eyes ringed in black makeup peer through a couple errant red bangs. It's a strange combination of goth and colour, not really helped by the teen's easy grin, "Hey Sav," he greets in a soft alto voice, waggling blackpainted fingers at her in a half wave, "TooFar Jones." No, that's not an odd salutation. That's apprently his name.
TooFar�s Desc:
Almost draped over him like a cloak, an strange old duster hangs from his sparse frame. The three-quarter length jacket seems to be made of weatherbeaten hemp dyed charcoal grey, with a monochromatic rainbow of birds' feathers woven into the cloth. Crow, seagull, raven, whatever; a random and chaotic collection of feathery blacks, whites and greys seem to grow from the duster, thickly covering the shoulders, thinly sprinkling the rest. It's several sizes too big, nearly dragging along the ground as he walks. The sleaves are rolled back a couple times to leave his hands free. Under this is a simply designed shirt of rough-knit cotton, dyed red. The top couple of buttons are left undone, exposing his neck and a couple inches of chest. Faded black jeans accompany this outfit, with a matching pair of scuffed and scraped army boots, the sort that of shoes that anyone can pick up for cheap at the Army/Navy store. The leather on the toes of the boots has worn away, exposing the gleaming protective steel cap.
Catherine is standing with an arm around Trace's waist, lightly leaning against his side, as they are both turned towards Savannah, and talking to her. Or perhaps just Cathy is, and Trace is protesting the 'decisions' that get taken over him. She grins at Savannah, and nods, "Well, I feel lucky today, so I have confidence." Looking back up at Trace beside her, she giggles, "And don't worry too much, I haven't bought those bolt cutters yet." But then as Trace pulls away, she blinks a little, wondering for a moment if they could have gotten him angry after all? But then she hears his words and the faint blush on her cheek gets a slight deepening of colour. She nods slowly, then smiles and says, very softly, "Okay..", suddenly lost for words.
Savannah winks at Catherine then pivots on one heel, a space dominating gesture for a woman her height, and snaps TooFar a Vulcan salute in almost military-esk fashion, as if this is the normal order of things. "Hi. Live long and put on some weight, you'll blow away there."
The feathered waif seems content with himself and his girlish figure, as any proper androgynon should be, but Savannah is spared a friendly grin in any event. If only for the concern. Yes, TooFar seems a fairly cheerful sort, for one of the gothic subculture. A perkigoth. "Just ate," is the clever retort, his cigarette dropped to the ground and crushed under a booted foot. A soleful burial, as it were.
Catherine blinks slowly, once.. twice.. and then smiles and leans into the arm around her, smiling, though she needs a moment to gather her thoughts, finding it suddenly hard to gather any coherent thoughts. The ground is always a good place to stare at, and after a deep breath, she giggles and looks back up at Trace, then shakes her head, and says, "Well, it would be a little hard to do that.. My dad's in New York again, so we'll just have to wait till he returns, by the end of the month."
Kenjiro has arrived.
Huh. Trace was about to quip something irrelevant, but looks to Catherine and murmurs thoughtfully, "He was gone that one time when you let me come by to use yer phone t'call Daniel, too." He cants his head to the side a little, asking quietly, "Guess he's gona a lot, huh." Geez, okay, now it's *his* turn to grind in possibly sensative subjects. "Well, in any case, you prolly doan' want me to meet him. He wouldn' like you hangin' out with th'likes a me, I'm sure."
"Try rocks in the pockets. Works wonders during storms." Savannah shifts on the balls of her feet, still grinning but now looking off at the various paths. Seems she might be considering her exit soon. Little society gathering that may or may not be the most fitting for her for the long run. Taught them about Tasmanian grassseeds and the value of socks already.
"Nah," TooFar smiles as he fixes a meaningful gaze on Trace, "Feathers help. I flap my arms t'get 'roun'." Why is he looking at the bluehaired one while talking to Sav, "Got any smokes, man?" Ah, question of Trace. Explains his interest. The strands of hair that have been bisecting his vision are brushes aside, tucked behind an ear.
Kenjiro enters the square on foot, puffing on a smoke and watching as verious tourists...who aren't any more easy to spot as non-locals than he is...meander around. He moves at a relaxed pace, but overall, he seems tense -- nothing new. He notes the presence of certain kids in the square; they have that style that just sticks out in people's minds. He doesn't stare or anything, but moves along on the outskirts of crowds.
Catherine shrugs slightly and says softly, "Yeah, well, I guess he's pretty busy, and it's his job and all.. I've gotten used to it by now, and Jenny's usually around so it's not like I have to cook my own dinner and stuff. Not that I couldn't do that, but it's great not to have to worry about it.." She smiles a little, thoughts drifting a little away from the subject, and she turns somewhat, to look at TooFar, giving him a friendly nod in greeting, but remaining right next to Trace.
Kenjiro pauses under a streetlamp, just to people watch, it seems. He uses the time for something productive...or destructive, depending on how you look at it, outing his smag on the pole. Flick. Into the gutter with that. Eyes skim over the crowd, taking an account of people.
Trace quirks a grin at TooFar and laughs, spreading his free hand. "You know I doan' smoke, man. Member? Not cigarettes. N'if ya lookin' f'more, I doan' got none'a that right now either. Chick there's the one with the grass. Premature grass, anyway." He chuckles. But of course he realizes that TooFar would never fiend for anything besides his beloved nicotene so he nods towards Kenjiro and suggests, "Jest ask anybody walkin' round. That guy was smokin' a second ago." His shoulders are lifted and settled in a gentle shrug.
Savannah flashes an easy smile over her shoulder back at Trace. Ah, somebody who appreciates mundane grass seeds from the South Pacific without probably having ever set eyes on it. With a cheery wave, she says: "Nice meeting you all, I figure I'll be seeing you around. I'm off to see the wizard."
Catherine looks back up again, sideways at Trace, and just smiles, remaining close. She looks over towards Kenjiro at Trace's gesture, and to Savannah to give her a wave, and say, "See you.. And don't expect too much from wizards..", but each time ends up looking back up at the boy beside her.
Meilyan enters the square from St. Peter.
TooFar's glance follows around, towards the hostile looking guy who was, it's rumoured, smoking not moments ago. A distracted farewell is provided for Savannah, but the perkigoth's mind is on other things. Like nicotine. Cuz that guy down there apparently has some. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. The streetrat picks up his feet and departs the group for a moment, without a word of explaination. It's obvious anyway, so he really doesn't have to. And with a suitable expression for begging smokes off people, the feathered waif heads over towards Kenjiro and asked that hopeful question, "Hey man, borrow a smoke off ya?" A winning smile is offered in exchange. Can't say no to that, can you?
Meilyan comes traipsing into the square, her hair plastered to her face, though it seems to keep to some sort of fluff. Near her right ear, it's fluffed a lot, in fact, something seems to be moving there. She circles around a corner, pausing at a bench to look out over the area in general.
Skipping, yea skipping, in a fashion that most adults just don't indulge in much, the tall Savannah departs down onto St. Peter.
Trace is standing with one arm around Cathy's waist, looking on in amusement as TooFar tries to bum a smoke off Kenjiro. He does pause to wave his free hand and call, "Bye, Savannah!" There's a chalk drawing at the blue-haired boy's feet, but right now the sun has set and it probably couldn't be seen unless you were looking for it specifically. People will traipse over it and it will surely be scuffed to oblivion by dawn tomorrow. Such is the way of things.
Savannah heads out to St. Peter.
Meilyan grins as Savannah passes her, seeming to approve of that sort of action indeed.
Meilyan�s Desc:
Her eyes are wide and rimmed with dark blonde lashes, they don't seem to have an iris, just black orbs that sparkle with mirth. Her peaches and cream skin is lightly freckled, and her lips are almost always curved into a wide smile. Pale blond hair falls down straight to her hips. Small braids are picked out of it, decorated with clacking beads and feathers that match her hair. A cowlick rises just above her forehead, the hair there sometimes defying gravity. She's not particularly tall, though she carries herself that way. You'd guess her to be around 5' 4". She looks very graceful, and healthy. Her curves are in all the right places, and darn nice ones they are, too.
She wears a pair of relatively new and definately neatly washed blue jeans. They fit her well, skimming over the curves and planes of her body as if made for her. Around her waist is a thick black belt with some kind of catch hanging off of it. The belt has a solid buckle, bright and shiny without being overly decorative. On top she wears a bright red leotard top with a round neck and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt left open with it's tails tucked in. Her feet are shod with black high-top sneakers.
She watches all that goes on around her, her dark eyes trying to catch everything in their grasp. She seems to project an aura of capability along with her merriment. Something about her kind of makes you want to talk to her if only to hear her what she says.
Kenjiro slips his hands into his pants pockets. He doesn't look shaken by all the people noticing he's watching. It's not like he's pleased by the spotlight, either...just doesn't care. Dark eyes, brimming with uh...nothing...fall to TooFar. He's used to this question. A lot of people assume generosity with smokes...it's like a code among smokers. When people get the shakes, you help out. But he's not people. Head lolls to one side as he thinks this arrangement over. Something for nothing? "Borrow." The notion teases his lips into a thin, wintry smile. "Tell you what. We'll trade." He starts looking TooFar over...like maybe the kid will have something he wants. Unlikely.
Catherine seems pretty much out of it, she's not paying much attention to her surroundings. A little lost in thought, she watches Savannah walk off, then glances sideways again, just to be sure he's really there. She has a goofy smile on her lips, and finally just stares off to as much of the horizon she can see with all the buildings around, to watch the setting sun, placing a hand lightly over the one resting at her side.
Ah. There we go. Kenjiro jerks a nod. "Crow's feather." He's named his price.
Meilyan wrinkles up her nose as she see's TooFar, in a decidedly distasteful sort of way. It screws up her whole face into an almost childlike grimace of disgust, and then it's gone as she looks back to the statue, the frown rubbed away with a grin. And then of course there's the two cute kids looking all dazed and grinning. That's worth a smile too, as she hops over the bench and moves towards the statue in the middle of the square.
Swears inwardly. Fuck. We have a wiseass on our hands. Goddamn they're a pain in the ass. The grin falters a little. "A crows feather." It's repeated dimly. "Nevermind then," you fucking /asshole/. He doesn't say it out loud, but oh, can he be seen to think it. Piece of shit superior... argh! "Thanks anyway," motherfucker. Seems the jacket is sacred to the streetrat. More so then the need for a smoke. And he isn't pleased with Ken, nosir.
Kenjiro nods. Asshole of the year awards will definitely be considering him as a nominee. Shit...maybe he even knew about the jacket. He's not showing amusement now, though. He just kinda looks at Toofar blankly. "It's cool." He didn't give the kid shit, so yeah, it's cool to him. Economics. Nothing for nothing. Except he made TooFar stop that happy look for a little bit. So he kinda did get something. Maybe he can fish for more. "Maybe you could suggest something else."
Trace looks over at Cathy and grins somewhat self consciously and points out, "Y'keep lookin' at me." A soft laugh, and he glances back to TooFar. Er, hmm. TF doesn't look happy. Guess the perkigoth didn't get that smoke he wanted. Sure ain't so perki when you threaten his jacket! He looks to Cathy and says, "Les' go somewhere once TooFar gets what he needs. Get some coffee or somethin'. You drink coffee?" Well, doesn't everyone? Then again, everyone seems to smoke in this town too, but here stand Cathy and Trace as exceptions, so maybe she doesn't drink coffee, who knows. "I found this neat place the other day. I like it better'n places like Cafe du Monde."
There is this faint clicking coming from a place nearby the square.....
Meilyan moves over to the Andrew Jackson monument, leaning against it's base and reading the graffitti that's gathered there. She lifts her head at something, but in the people and the foot traffic, she seems to brush it off.
Or... maybe we won't get coffee. Coz there's this weird clicking. Trace looks to Catherine quizically, perhaps wondering if it's in his head.
Meilyan's crest flickers up, and she peers around to see the source of the sound she heard.
TooFar would suggest that Kenjiro should bend over and fist himself, but the guy does kinda look the sort predisposed towards violence. That and he probably has a hundred pounds over the waif. We won't even get into the height difference. So, no, he won't suggest anything else. He has his jacket to think about. Time heals all wounds, but he hasn't the money to repair his jacket. "No, that's fine," he manages to smile back. No, we're not dealing. You fucking jerk.
The clicking gets louder......it seems to be coming from a steam grate by the statue of Andrew Jackson
Catherine gets a faint blush creeping up on her cheeks, as Trace points out she's staring at him, realizing that, yes, she's been doing just that. She giggles softly, and says, "Uhmm.. yeah.. I guess.. Ohh, well.. I don't drink coffee.. but perhaps cocoa or tea..." Her voice trails off as she turns her head, trying to make out what that sound is she is hearing over the din of the crowd.
Kenjiro's eyes twitch. Noise gets his attention, in general, even if only for a little bit. If there's an obvious source for that noise, he'll spot it. If not...oh well. But there it is. Thoughts of TooFar seem to be fading already as his eyes lock on the area near the statue. He nods, replying absently. "That's ok." He levels his gaze on TooFar, and smiles the fakest fucking smile on earth. "I was out, anyway."
Meilyan walks around the statue slowly, her nose whiffling a bit as she brushes at her hair. Yes, there is a bird on her shoulder, but she rub's it's forehead, and it flutters away into the sky, perhaps finding some sort of shelter from the rain that isn't blonde and beaded locks. Her attention turns to the ground.
the clicking has stopped...but there is a faint hissing sound rom the grate.
A man passing by the grate shakes his head. "Goddamn Sewer workers strike. Something needs to get done about that, before were' up to our necks in sewage."
Meilyan goes to her knee's as the man passes, looking up at him for a second, and then she leans over and looks down into the grate, closing one eye and then the other, and squinting.
If it weren't for the jacket, TooFar would be on Ken... but of course, if it weren't for the jacket, this wouldn't have happened anyway. Stuck. Perhaps a good thing. The streetkid doesn't have health insurance. So he wanders off, back to his friends. Grumbling. It's a good couple moments before the hissing registers. "What's that, man?" he wonders of Trace. He's been up here. He should know these things.
"C'mon, les' go," Trace murmurs, taking Cathy's arm. "M'glad you heard it too, jes' so I know I'm not nuts or somethin'. But let's see what it is!" Naw, Trace isn't the type to rationalize like that stuffy grumbler. His first thought? MONSTERS! Let's go see 'em! Of course there's rational parts going 'Okay, what pipe broke', but deep down that primal childish wildman part of him is *so* hoping for monsters. So he tug-tugs at the girl beside him eagerly. Don't you wanna see the hissing clickerthing? Wanna see if it has tenticles and claws?
Meilyan pats herself down, and finds a book of matches, the cardboard sort. She takes one out, lights it, and drops it down the grate, her nose still whiffling a bit. Does she care if people stare? Apparently not, at least..not for the moment. Maybe there's a cool rat down there or something.
As the woman drops the match into the grate, there is a loud klang, as the entire grate rockets four feet into the air.....
Catherine frowns a little and stares over towards the grate, peering through the twilight, to make out as much as she can. She notices Meilyan, but looks at the grate again next. She's in doubt, see what's going on and slip out of Trace's arm, or remain there. But then it's solved by Trace, and she nods quickly, saying to him, "Yeah, let's see what's down there..", and starts to walk over. Her eyes widen as the grate suddenly launches up.
Kenjiro smiles, now very genuine, and gets out...what else but a pack of smokes. He lights up. Puff. Puff. Drop. Stomp. He outs it. Wasted it. Wasn't much of a trick to see the little kid was bullshitting him with the smiles. Maybe he didn't like it. Maybe this is his brand of teaching a lesson. Maybe he's just really a fucking asshole.
Meilyan manages to drag her face back from the suddenly airborne sewer grate just in the nick of time, rolling back onto her rear and then twisting the roll to take her up to the balls of her feet with a shriek of surprise.
The Sewer grate falls catty corner to the opening...
Kenjiro watches the grate go up into the air. Not much expression. His brows raise as his eyes follow it's course. "Shit," he murmurs.
Trace was nearly at that grate by this point too. As that hunk of metal flies up into the air, he leaps back with a most unbrave yelp, but does immediately tug arms protectively around Catherine. No clickerthing is gonna shoot metal out at his girl of the evening. He uncurls from her cautiously and peers towards the hole, then at the brave little matchgirl, wondering, "You alright?"
A couple moments pass, TooFar peering at the remains of the explosion. It's a good thing he didn't put his head there, like he was about it. It's also probably a good thing the action distracted him from Kenjiro. Good for him, at least. In complete contradition to common sense, TooFar is first at the now blown-open grate. "Cool," he mutters, the sound echoing hollowly down the hole.
The inquisitive man with the bird feather jacket leans over the open grate, muttering something into the echoing cavern. As he does so, a yellow greenish 'spike' of some kind pokes rapidly out of the hole, piercing the long duster, through, and is quickly back out of sight. It seems only you small group has seen it, it moved so fast.
Luckely, Trace grabbed Cathy, since she is just watching the grate fly up and fall down again rather stupified. But then she comes to her senses, and looks over to the hole in the ground, and Meilyan sitting on the ground close to it. She's just about to ask the same question as Trace, when he beats er to it, so she just waits and listens. Too bad all this commotion completely distracts her of the fact that Trace is embracing her rather protectively.
Meilyan lets out another high sound of surprise. One hand flips into her sleeve, pulling something shining bright. She edges towards the side of the black hole.
Kenjiro moves, and boy does he move. Like a streak of motion, Kenjiro is near the grate in no time. He kneels down to the side of TooFar, all his fun over. Business, now. He cocks his head, and inquires, "You ok?" He's got his hand in his jacket.
Daniel gets off the bus.
The woman gets closer as the boy steps back, holding something in the hand. As she does so, that same yellowihs green 'spike' comes shooting out of the sewer grate, whipping her and missing her face by inches. there is a loud hiss of steam, perhaps, from down below...
The featherwaif staggers back, falling from the reaction onto his butt. "Fuck," he mutters, sounding very suprised. That was unexpected. Kind of stunned him. He pats himself, experimentally, about where his kidneys where. They're still there. But his jacket. Oh, for the love of god... seems there's an eight inch whole, ripped right through the hemp material, in the waist of the jacket. TooFar is just peering at it, starting to giggle faintly. "Oh, damn," he grins, "Someone's gonna hafta hurt fer that."
"Holy fuck! TooFar!" Trace starts to dart foreward, then back again, uncertain and fickle in his bravery. Is he okay? Well, let's ask. "You alright, man? What was that?" All Trace saw was a quick flash of... well, *monster*! See? He has every right to still believe in them after all. Wait, hold up. TooFar's gonna... fight the monster? Over a jacket? His arms curl around Catherine again and he murmurs, "Toofar is insane. We oughta..." Well, what?
Meilyan whips to the side as the thing slices out, moving as if she's used to being attacked as the exclamations and worries start. Her wrist flips, and she actually calls out. "Neener neener neeeeeeeeener." towards the hole, though she doesn't quite get as close as last she dared.
Kenjiro watches the spike shoot out of the grate again, and his brows drop. Anger. Confusion. He looks to Meilyan, and shakes his head. "Shit," he announces once more, ever the eloquent one. "Where's a fucken grenade when you need one? What the hell was that thing?"
Catherine gasps as the thing shoots upwards again, and she looks between Meilyan and TooFar, but hasn't made up her mind yet. As Trace steps back and holds her, she mutters softly, "Uhmm.. I think someone better push that grate back in place.."
Daniel steps off the bus and lights up a cigar without looking around the square and perhaps totally oblivious to the happenings that have those already present taking on roles that seem very reminiscant of a hong kong flim. Looking around the square he does however finally notice that indeed people seem to be behaving a touch abnormally.
Kenjiro gets an odd look from TooFar, like he was measuring the value of having got into a fight with him earlier. Would his jacket ahve been worse off? Maybe, but we can't change that. The streetrat pulls off his feathered fuster and tosses it to Trace, "Hold that, man," he asks... well, okay, orders. He picks himself up, and moves back to the grate. But with faaar more respect this time. Something's down there, it put a hole in his coat... and he doesn't have a clue why. It's enough to drive him to distraction. A coat attack and a mystery, all at the same time. It's like he can't help himself.
Daniel wanders a little closer and yet keeps his distance. Being as short as he is he does not want the crowd to block off his view of these somewhat ingtriguing events.
Hey, *there's* an idea! Push the grate back in place! Trace detangles himself very gently from the girl's arms and takes a few very tentative steps towards the hole. Then he gets a jacket flung at him. Whoa. It's passed off to Catherine. "Here, hold this." Then he says to TooFar, "Let's put the grate back on." And maybe it'll pop off again, fwoosh! Hee. No. That's not the point. The point is to protect the people of Jackson Square! It's superhero time.
Meilyan's eyes flicker towards each of the other people approaching the black hole. These people, she seems to think, are crazy. But not her, of course..it's perfectly reasonable for her to take another twitching step forward. "Suzie my playyymate, come out and play with me..." she sings in the sort of voice that grates on a teacher's nerves.
The open grate beckons like a black hole....
Kenjiro notes to Trace. "You might want to steer clear of that. Whatever it was knocked the grate off before."
Kenjiro says, "I don't think the grate's gonna hold it."
Daniel's lips part in a wry smile as he takes a long drag on his cigar and watches the adventurous get bold and approach the dark cavern that lays where once the grate held innocent place.
Well fine, throw logic onto our heroics. Trace gives Kenjiro a disappointed look, but nods his agreement. "So whadda we do?"
In the manner of one who knows, with certainty, that what he's doing is unfathomably stupid but can't stop himself, TooFar peers carefully over the hole, all but ready to fling himself back. Can't trust sewers these days. They're hostile.
Meilyan hrms, right hand still at the ready with something that looks sharp, shiny and possibly dangerous, she digs into her pocket with the left and tosses in a couple of pennies.
Catherine is balancing on that thin line between being scared and curious about the thing inside the hole, and as Trace walks closer to it and the grate, she follows, keeping her distance, but making it a little less. Handed the coat by Trace, she folds it up in her arms almost unthinkingly, a big bundle of coat. She looks over at Trace and Kenjiro, then shrugs, "Well, at least it's got to push the grate away again then before it can start poking holes in people.."
Kenjiro says, "I dunno." He shrugs. He's not the monster hunting expert. "Molotov cocktail?" He's only half facetious."
As TooFar peers over the edge, the spike nearly impales him in the eye, while, at the same time, one of the pennies fly out of the hole.
It's catlike, a lightning twist of the body as TooFar moves out of the way of the spike. It was expected... but damn, it's still pretty fast. Hoping that there's some delay as it... reloads, I dunno, the idiot perkigoth hops down into the sewer. Have you ever seen an action so completely moronic before?
Daniel jumps lightly as he watches something almost impale TooFar's head as one would a cantelope shortly before peeling it. This however does not stop him from taking a long deep drag on his Cigar while he watches the crowd assembling and those already in the middle of the fracas..
Meilyan looks about ready to slash after the spike, but her reach diagonally across the hole is too much, and then...well, and then the kid jumps in and is he really, I mean..really, that dumb? Whoops, her eyes open wide as she sees gravity take it's course..it seems that he is. She peers at the feather coat that Catherine still holds, then leeeeeans over the hole. "Ohhhh mister ooooverfiend. Could you give us back our friend?" she calls down.
Kenjiro is an asshole, but he's also a heroic son of a bitch, deep down. He's not about to let TooFar get shredded by some sewer croc, or whatever the hell it is. His hand exits his jacket, and looky there...he's packing. It's a damn cannon, too. Into the grate he goes.
The swipe that nearly claimed half of TooFar's face, that earned a very sharp and startled gasp from Trace. And there's that half a second of joy when he thinks okay, thank you, god, he's alright. It missed him. But that second is so brief as TooFar launches himself down into the grate, and Trace has a moment of quiet, total shock before he can get his lungs to shriek out, "TOOFAR!" He... he just jumped in!
Catherine gasps as she sees the spike shoot up, nearly spiking TooFar, and she starts to call out, when suddenly the boy jumps down the hole, and all that is left to do is stare incredulously at the hole, her mouth still open rather stupidly. Did she just see someone jump into a pit with spikes? Of his own free will?
Kenjiro leaps into the sewer grate... there is two loud splashes and a high volume hiss emanating from it.
Daniel's brow dances further up his forehead as he watches yet another person delve into the depths below. Looking around at the others he tries to gague their reactions to this eventuality, his piercing gaze flitting from face to face as he takes yet another long drag on his cigar. Stepping between and around people as he watches he moves to a position with a clear view and line of approach perhaps to the grating.
Meilyan looks around. "Where's the cops when you need them, eh?" raising a brow meaningfully to the crowd that's gathered. She hovers near the edge, breathing in and out slow, and listening for sounds. She looks ready to jump in at the first scream. Or spurt of blood.
Trace is still gawking at the hole. It deserves a little gawking, really. And then he slowly lifts his eyes to Catherine, a fleeting glance at Meilyan, but then back to the strawberry blonde. Monsters ate my friend! One of my best friends! I mean, how can you comprehend such a thing? "I wish Jason was here," he whispers to the girl. "He'd do somethin' that could help get TooFar out." He stays close to her, and no, he's not going to budge one inch closer to that hole. His heroics end now. But he's also not going to flee from it before knowing for certain that his friend has met his doom.
Catherine might be curious, but she sure isn't going to follow those other two down there. Standing there, peering at the dark looming hole in the ground, a shiver passes noticably through her, and she remains very very quiet, trying to pick up any sound from below. She steps a little closer to Trace, still holding TooFar's jacket, but it's now clenched tightly against herself, as if it's going to protect her. She looks up at Trace, and reaches out to take his hand, holding it tightly.
There is two loud thundering gunshots from down below.....
Meilyan rears up and sticks her knife (that's obviously what it is now) between her teeth..not by the blade like in the stupid pirate movies, but by the handle. It looks a bit odd, but she's much less likely to cut her mouth up that way. She catches the edge of the hole by her fingers, and tries to find the steps, cursing behind the metal bit in a muffled sort of way as she does so.
Trace looks to Cathy and says, "I know of some people I could bring t'help. One's in an apartment not far from here at all... I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? You gotta stay, an' get TooFar to a hospital maybe if he makes it out. But *please*, please don't go near that hole. You stay safe, okay?" He looks at her with large, frightened hazel eyes, but also a determination that he can't just sit around and wait for sounds of TooFar being crunched up into monsterfood. He's got to do SOMETHING.
Catherine gasps as she hears the gunshots, and the hand holding Trace's tightens it's grip a little. She tries to stand up on her toes, hoping to see just a little more of what is happening, but not getting closer to the hole. She looks at Trace, and nods quickly, saying softly, "I'll hold the fort here.. and I'm not about to jump down, don't worry. Okay, but please hurry.." She reluctantly lets go of Trace's hand.
Daniel decides that perhaps that this is getting just to freaky with gunshots resounding around and so heads off rather quickly away from the scene.
Daniel enters Pirate's Alley.
Trace gives Cathy's hand a final, tight squeeze before darting off through the crowds, at a full run as soon as his path is clear before him.
This scene picks up fifteen minutes later as Trace returns to the scene of the monster attack in Girl for the Evening
Back to the Roleplay Log Archive
Five-ten if that's an inch, Savannah is a tanned, blue-eyed blonde who might be rather imposing if it weren't for her obvious ease with herself. Possessing a naturally brawny frame couple with robust health, this twenty-something manages that rare balence of physical presence and feminity that favors both. She won't win any bodybuilding contests or beauty pageants, but she has a good figure, pretty smile, probably does alright moving her own furniture and could easily find work as an extra in a sword & sorcery flick.
He seems an amicable fellow, harmless even, nearly five-and-a-half slouched feet of bemused ease. Reddish-blond hair cut in a ruffably haphazard way fall to his shoulders in shaggy disarray. It has a faintly greasy sheen to it, giving his locks that slightly dark tint pecular to unwashed fair hair. Sleepy skyblue eyes gaze out through thick lashes and kohl makeup, somehow both smug and smiling at the same time. His build is thin, almost androgenous, and likely a couple inches taller than his slouch would imply. Elfin, one might think, and the thought wouldn't be too far off.
This young woman appears to be about 20 years old. She is rather strikingly pretty, and moves gracefully, her hands gesturing expressively as she speaks.