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Log Title: Monsters in the Playground

Log setting: The playground. Duh. It is Tuesday, December 4th. It is evening and the moon is waning half. There are 8 hours until sunrise. It is 60 degrees and drizzling.

Log Cast:
Starlight
No-thing
Dirty Bill
Trace
Jason
Wendy
Snitch
Caddy
TooFar
Nadine
Alisynde

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If there's a rustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed, now......or perhaps ol' Led was wrong. Maybe you should be. Dead leaves being tossed out from under there, left right and centre, blowing across the playground in the chilly breeze.

Small dark figure makes way toward one side of the park. Bushes, really. Star got a smoke, ya know, cupped for protection from the drippy wet and made even more obvious in the black as his hand lifts, offering Nico-- so bright. Cherry bright. Exhales and glances around. Hard to see, ya know. Here. Stupid rain.

There is a loud rip/explode sound which comes from the castle and a soft groan as well. The boots shift to the right, turning slightly. A repulsive odour floats from the little wooden castle. Several minutes pass and then there is a choking noise which comes from the castle, obviously the creator of that lovely bit of methane doesn't really appreciate it. Yep, sure enough the boots come out followed by the legs as Dirty Bill wiggles out of the castle. "Heavens..." He gasps softly as he kneels on the ground, crawling the rest of the way out and then hurrying upright. "Shouldna had them damn beans..."

The slightest rustle from the bushes Star is headed towards, as hazel eyes peek out. Perhaps the most perceptive of folks would sense himself being watched, but otherwise, he's fairly well hidden. This is *so* weird. There's... this guy up in his castle, first of all. HIS castle. It's really not fair. Trace almost shrinks back into the hidden fort, but pauses and holds a moment in his shadowy secluded crouch as his eyes catch on Star. Ah ha. He considers coming out, but stays put timidly for now.

Rustle, rustle........the ghastly-loud -organic- noise stops those leafy noises from the -other- bushes dead in their tracks. Or perhaps it was the looming firebug tip of Star's cigarette bobbing through the freezy December dark. SIlence from that particular patch of night.

The dirty, ragged figure of a man tilts his head back and blinks up at the rain which is falling down upon him. The droplets of rain strike his cheeks and try to wash away the accumulated grime but the power of the filth is greater and the rainwater has little effect on it. Dirty Bill looks down and across the playground at Starlight, squinting his eyes, watching the little bobbling cherry of the cigarette through the rain. "Eh?" He inquires of no one in particular and his hazy brown eyes attempt to make out the sources of sounds from the bushes. "Fuckin' cats..." he mutters as he reaches in to a pocket, pulling out a small clear bottle of alcohol. Dirty Bill squints and gazes in to it, shaking it. Empty. Dirty Bill swears and lobs the bottle of his shoulder, in Trace's direction. He reaches in to a pocket and pulls out another mini-bottle, this one filled with Absolute. With a satisfied grin, revealing blackened and ruined teeth, Dirty Bill yanks the cap off of it and takes a long swallow.

These bushes are downright infested tonight with little N'awlins urchins. But Trace is less stealthy. In fact, now he rustles them a little on purpose, because while he *does* want to get Star's attention, he doesn't want the smelly grizzled man to see him. Entirely intimidated by that one. As the bottle is hurled his way, there's a sharp squeak that the boy can't repress and he stumbles backwards. Fearbright hazel eyes fall on the empty bottle and he grimaces and forces his eyes away. Down, to the clean, wet earth near his filthy sneakers.

Star pauses and actually looks a little shocked. Sure, ya know, there's bound to be other people here, but, it's not who he was expecting and it's cause for caution. The boy peers up toward the castle and tilts his head some, eyes narrowing in curiosity. Hmm. Another drag would bright up his face, a touch, offering a glimpse of his pretty. Attention shifts to the bushes the kid was heading toward and then back to the man. Can't go there now, eh? Nope. So he exhales, cheeks puffing and shifts his weight. Great. Just keeps getting wetter, ya know? Just stands there, getting drenched. C'mon, Trace, ya know, he's not gonna give it up, ya made him promise. Child peers back toward the street and then to the bushes again. Come out come out whereever you are. Or don't. Secrets.

True....looks like this is the time and place to find yourself a reg'lar collection of bushbabies. Trace's yelp of dismay as the bottle finds a new existence as a piece of playground trash brings another shreddy-wet series of noises from the bushes leewards. Strange little panting "Hurrr, hurrr, hurrrrrr". Maybe there's some wild dogs mating in there or something.

At the sound of the little squeak, Dirty Bill whirls around and glares at the bushes. "little fuckers all over tha place...." He grumbles to himself as he stuffs the cap back in to the bottle and shoves it in to his pocket. He stands there, weaving slowly under the falling rain, glancing back up in to it. Dirty Bill shakes his head and then he says, "Little boogers... fallin' on the ground an hidin in tha woods." he leans down and picks up a sodden piece of elderly branch, shaking it in the direction of the bushes, "YA LITTLE BOOGERS! GO AWAY!" He snarls and then looks back at Starlight, still holding the branch, "Little boogers everywhere, tryin' ta drive ya crazy... all them little booger... I hate'em... eat every last one of'em... even tha black 'n green ones..."

Okay. This is getting ridiculous, y'know? Trace scowls faintly up at the castle. He can't see too well, with all these drippy-wet leaves in his way, and he can't see the bum's mouth, so he assumes those weird panting noises are from him. And then the castle-stealing bastard goes off, and that does it. Here's Star probably thinking he's gone and ditched him, and this grizzly monster is up in his castle hollering. PLUS he's sullying his playground with booze bottles. *That* really, finally pisses him off. This is his safe place, where he comes to think and dream, where he comes to meet friends for discreet talks and intimate quiet times. It's HIS playground, dammit, and so he picks up the terrible bottle at his feet -- touching it as little as possible, thumb and forefinger pinched -- and hauls his soggy, bedraggled drowned rat self out of the bushes. The bottle is hurled as hard as he can, *CRISH!*, shattering on one side of the castle. "Then stay the fuck outta the 'booger's' castle, you fuck," he growls, hard dark eyes flashing up at his castle. He balls his little fists, but after he says it, looks almost just as scared as he is angry.

The dirty old bum whirls around, stick in hand and glares at Trace, his hazy brown eyes half befuddled and half enraged. His mouth contorts in to an ugly looking grimace and he staggers forwards several steps towards Trace, clutching the stick tightly, "YA LITTLE BOOGER!" He screams, moving with obvious intent towards Trace.

Shouting, screaming, smashing bottles, what -is- all this. The Thing in the other bushes parts soggy cypress leaves, filthy skeleton-kid face poking out. Teeth bared in a fierce rictus...and -what- a rictus. SHould an...er....boy?......have teeth like that? They wouldn't look out of place on a Doberman.....

Star lifts his brows and takes down the last of his smoke, then flicks it toward the castle. Right. Okay. Some whacked out weirdo talking about ..boogers? Got it. Kid's eyes narrow even more, just little black slits of hate, and then Trace appears and the kid looks there. Hmm. But doesn't ease up, nope, just steps closer to the older, blue-capped boy. Right. So if Blue wanna start shit, well, looks like he already did, doesn't it? Star'll back him. That's what friends are about. Backin' eachother. Just some old fuckin' man anyway, they can take'im.

And lo, there was a pause. At the sight of a second face appearing in the bushes, the dirty one who doth name himself Bill freezes in mid menacing stride. His eyes widen a little bit at the sight of Skeletor and he drops the branch on to the ground with a soft, damp thud. "HOLY SHIT!!" He cries, his voice slurred despite his surprise, alcohol mightily defeating his full verbal abilities. He just sort of stares for a moment before he turns and stagger/runs from the playground, mumbling something about killer skeleton boogers. He trips, maybe once over his own feet but he keeps heading towards the exit. It's raining. It's cool and he's surrounded by freaky, disturbed little childrens.

Trace doesn't see the Thing yet. He's got the whole of his equally terrified and enraged attention on Dirty Bill. Eyes full of old hate, older than THIS confrontation surely, narrow on the man, even as he backs away a step. Not back into the bushes, but along side them and away from the castle, which brings him accidentally closer to the Thing's end of the playground. A glance is cast to Star, grateful for the support, but then his eyes flash back to Bill as he cries out and flees. What the *fuck?* He turns baffled eyes on Star. Did we scare him?

Dirty Bill has left.

As the mass of clothes and tremendous stench and fury that is Bill rushes off into the night, that terrible, haunted-pinched skinbone-toothy face disappears back into the dripping bushes.

Starlight lifts his brows, watching the guy run in terror from Trace the Great and Star the Great too!! And he lets out this stupid little giggle? ack, and turns to his friend. "Fucker. He's lucky his ass ran, dude. I was gettin' pissed." I think Star talks more shit than his player, honestly. Anyway, kid is amused and that's better than the Grumpy he had goin' on when he first got here. "So, what's up, man? I mean, you okay?" Why are we here, this late at night? Well, this first part is small-talk, but ya know, pretty seems to have an agenda.

Trace grins faintly at Star's bravado and rubs away some rain from his forehead and tucks some soggy braids behind his ears. "M'okay," he says, padding over to the base of the castle and looking at the broken glass with quiet dismay. "Fuckin' drunk," he sighs softly. "Prolly left the castle smellin' like piss." He looks up and says, "Sorry 'bout the rain... It weren't nothin' but cloudy when I tole' ya t'meet me here."

Now that all the fussing and shouting and breaking glass noises have gone away, whatever-it-is in those cypresses continues its evening's work. Dead leaves, rotting wood, flying scattered from the bushes. 'Hurrrrr, hurrr, hurrr....

Jason steps in from the park.

Starlight follows Trace over to the castle and shrugs up his shoulder. The child is gentle toward the older, as if the blue-cap a really good friend. Ya know? "Nah, it's cool, Blue. I mean, how would ya know, and besides, it's always raining. I don't mind." He sniffs and glances over toward the bushes again. God. Chews on the inside of his cheek and then shakes his head. "Um, did he hit ya with that bottle?" the youngest asks, distractedly. Strange night, this one.

Considering that this place is a popular hangout with the less-than-priviledged adolescents, it's usually a good bet you can find someone you're looking for (or at least someone who knows where they might be) if you wander by. So that's exactly what Jason is doing - wandering by. Not that he's really looking for anyone in particular, but he just escaped the house again and a couple days of seeing nothing but ceiling has gotten him restless. He still looks like crap, pale and all that whatnot, but here he comes. Even with his usual unconcious smirk going. He still feels like crap, but, hey, it's feeling like crap outside. Which is better than feeling like crap inside.

Trace had been starting to let his knotted shoulders untense now that the monster had fled his castle, but he goes all rigid again as the bushes start to make more 'hurrrring' noises. And now that he's out in the open and undistracted he can better pin-point where it's coming from. He takes a nervous, unconscious step closer to Starlight (to be protective, or scared himself? Could be either). "Naw," he says quietly, voice lowering without his realizing it, just because of the spooky bushes noises. "But he came close. Even so, I ain't havin' nobody flingin' their fuckin' booze bottles into my fort." His eyes scan the shadows, ears strain to hear past the patter of rain, and wholly remains on edge and at the ready. In his apprehensive wandering survey of the playground his gaze catches on Jason, and he lifts a hand, in case he hasn't been seen yet.

Eventually, the veritable cascade of sad, lacy winter leaf-skeletons, sticks, and dirt flying out of the cypresses bushes stops, leaving a 'spray' of the ground-mold stretched a good five feet across the playground. The digging dog, or whatever the hell is responsible for the noisy excavation, falls -almost- quiet again. The occasional wet-smack, greedy noise is faintly audible through the stillness of the night. And, man, that old wino really -did- smell bad. The shitty stink on the breeze is so thick you'd think the 'biggest booger' was still here or something....

Star keeps his eyes on the bushes, even as Trace moves closer to him. Oh man, this is just weird. Like, is something gonna jump out and eat the boys or what? Hmm. Kid straightens some, still a couple inches under the blue-cap, tho, and mutters, "The fuck is that, Blue?" Quiet. As to not alert whatever it is to, ya know, the fact that Star gives a shit or whatever. And as Trace lifts his hand, Star's gaze slides toward Jason and the little boy actually takes a step back, chin dropping nearly to his chest. Fuck fuck, double fuck. A little breath, audible and the boy pushes into his friend, sideways. "Um, so what did you want to talk about?" Hurry, kay? Cause, well, just hurry.

Snitch steps in from the park. No-thing pats Star Snitch ambles around the edge fo the playground, and into it. "Hmmmmmmm. . Hmmmmm."

Jason catches the movement out of the corner of his eyes. Hey, more kids. Cool. He brushes some wet hair from his eyes and then just gets this slow grin as he recognizes them. Trace, his friend, and... Star. Heh. He breaks into a slow trot and jogs over to the pair by the castle. "Hey, Trace," he calls quietly, and then smirks to Star. "On yer way to Walks' place, huh?" A toss of the wet mane and he reins up beside the pair. "What's up?" He tilts his head, noting the... disturbed expressions both of them had before he showed up.

Snitch�s Desc:
This three-foot goblin smiles a lot, with pearly white teeth set in purple gums in the center of a peach-colored face. It is friendly for a Henchman, ever ready to help, dressed in warm clothes of dark black. It will stride forward to shake your hand with its clammy grip in an effort to make you feel right at home. It's friendly voice invites confidence and trust.

Snitch's face is split by a grin that widens to reveal yellow goblin teeth and a distinct form of pleasure is marked. "OOOOOoooh." Children!

Trace flickers his nervous glance to Star. "We should get outta here," he suggests softly. "Someplace else, y'know? Playground's weird tonight..." He folds his arms and hunches his shoulders, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings as he speaks. "But, I mean. If you got someplace to be..." He bites his lip. "I didn't know I was keepin' you from nothin'. I jest, I missed you, y'know? I been busy with some stuff, an' you ain't livin' on Chart an' Gov no more, so our paths ain't crossed so much..." As Jason walks over, he smiles, oblivious to the fact that it might be the redhead adding to Star's apprehension. Spooky bushes are taking care of that, right? He shifts his weight to the other foot and explains to Jason, "Just kicked some fuckin' bum outta our castle." Suddenly my castle is now 'our'.

Wet-smacky noises stop too, after a relatively long time, and it's a relief when those sounds have gone. Because it sounds like the creature still infesting the playground's bushes is -eating- something. Rapidly, chokingly, and with very, very few table manners. Given the circumstances, exactly -what- it might be eating is probably better left to the imagination. Or not. But once the gutsing sounds cease, there's a few leaf-rustles, swish-swirl, like something turning ruond and round deep in the undergrowth, feral thing settling to sleep.

Snitch says, "I wonder what is in the bushes. Something to eat or something to be eaten by? But no! There is only a little fox and his chickens." The goblin moves over toward the bushes now."

Star shakes his head, hand lifting to touch against Trace as if to say no, he doesn't wanna leave the older. "No, it's cool." He can calm. And Jason's being cool, well, there was one smartass comment but Star can over look that. Or, maybe not. "Yeah, I guess," comes out to the oldest, and he looks back down again, hand lowering from Blue's arm. Kid looks over toward the bushes again and frowns. "Hey, kid?" Is it the same? Is it that stinky little fucker from Jilly's house? Makes the same sounds. Course, his voice is probley tackled on the way to No-thing, considering the weather, but what the heck, he tried. Hand pushes up to slide wet strands of hair behind one ear and a quick glance to Jason finds eyes on the ground below again. What a pussyboi, eh?

Wendy steps in from the park.

Snitch stands near the monkey bars, leering at the group who chat near the fox.

Wendy meanders along the path that leads towards the playground, taking her own sweet time to get there. She's rather obviously in no big hurry at all, walking for walking's sake.

Jason can be cool, see? If just with a look to Star, brows raised, that promises for some abuse later. But then he just grins his crooked grin and looks to the bushes for the source of the dying sounds. A kid? Heh. Kids. But wait. He catches someting out of the corner of his eye and looks that way - towards the monkey bars. Frowning, he shakes his head a little and snorts. "Yeah, let's go," he murmurs, bringing his eyes back to his companions. "Walks' got a fire goin' 'r sumthin'." He shrugs his shoulders and pulls his jacket closer about him.

Jason's look towards the goblin isn't a friendly one. Annoying things they are. Indeed, representatives of their master. His ears flick back with irritation and his tail, wet from the rain, lashes a couple of times. But then he calms as he looks away. As long as they don't come within throttling distance, he's fine for now. Snitch sees the look given. "Sir, you wound me. Indeed you do. If I were a tinkerbell, I'd drop dead. What have I ever done to merit such pointy glances?" He takes the look as a challenge and approvches.

And this one seems to insist on coming within throttling distance....

Wandering? Oh no, not now. Now Wendy's following along behind the little goblin. Of course, she's moving awfully quiet. Damn Sluagh.

Perhaps it's the voices? Whatever the reason, Wendy's wander has found a course; towards Trace and Jason. Though, she's moving fairly slowly still, and awfully quiet.

All noises from the bushes have stopped. The stench is still lingering, brown and gagging, hanging in the air like a haze...thankfully those cypresses are a good way away. The spray of recently excavated dirt and leaves is a dark-scattered 'v' across the grass. But, no more noises, eating, panting, or otherwise.

"Y'wanna go back to Walker's?" Trace suggests gently to Star, almost hopefully. He's had his fill of this playground for tonight, full of scary bums and eerie noises. "We got a shitload'a Christmas cookies Ali baked and brought over fer us.." He looks up and starts to gesture towards the playground's exit, but the motion stops when he sees Wendy walking through the rain towards them, and he blooms a smile for her and calls, "Wendy-maiden!" A glance to his companions. Look, Wendy's here, Jason! Neat, huh? This kid refuses to be an easy creature to protect. More to Star, and probably to quiet for Wendy or the Thing to hear, he asks the boy, "You met Wendy? She's awesome. She brings me chocolate and tells cool spooky stories."

Snitch licks his lips. "Walker's. I believe I do indeed know that name." He thinks, he thinks, he thinks. "Yes, that . . . hermaphrodite that my master has taken such a fancy to." He taps his finger on his nose. "Mind you, I do not see what the master sees in it."

Ya know what the funniest thing is? Jason doesn't /need/ to give Star a look to intimidate him. It's over. Done. All Jason hasta do is be /around/ and Star'll like, I dunno, be Lil' Mr. Humble. To Walker's eh? The boy's dark eyes slide up to Trace and he shrugs. Christmas. Oh yeah, it's comin' eh? Hmm. "Um, I guess, yeah, we kin," and he swallows, gaze to Jason again "Um, we kin go there." Chews on the inside of his cheek and actually, really super looks apologetic. "Jus' been real busy, um, with stuff," is offered in quiet explanation to the firey red-head. Another inhale, still audible, as if startled, as Trace greets Wendy and Star too looks over toward the woman from where he stands next to Trace and Jason by the castle. A nod would indicate that indeed Star does know the woman and the littlest raises his hand, in a wave-- side to side, not up and down. Lazy. "Yeah, member from that time on the street, Blue?" is said, but his attention remains on the approaching woman.

In the rain, it's hard to tell /exactly/ what Wendy's doing while she walks forward. But her pale hands are out of her pocket, brushing through the air while she walks. A few moments of that, then she's tucking them out of sight again.

Actually, it is easy to see. Wendy just brushed a hand along the goblin's cheek while she passes him, murmuring, "Hello, my dear."

Snitch says, "Oh, my darkling mistress! You have startled me so! I did not see you here." He hurries to make nose-rubbing obeisance. "I was just ruminating out loud. Forgive me.""

Out of nowhere, Jason gets a barely suppressed growl and glances back over his shoulder towards the monkey bars again. Dammit, and he was in /such/ a good mood for being in a crappy state (it makes sense, kinda...). But he spies the woman making her way towards them before Trace even points her out, and gets a sort of vicious grin. But at Trace's call of 'Wendy-maiden,' Jason gets a grimace. Just for an instant. A look goes back to the blue-haired boy, a little frown, but then he makes a small sigh and goes back to watching... Wendy's approach or something. "Yeah, busy," he murmurs absently to Star's excuse (excuse to what?).

Jason's ears lay back again, but this time they stay there. Tail lashing with a now aggrivated irritation, it's clear that Jason's limit for ignoring something has been reached. Not that the goblin is likely to pay attention to such things.

Wendy lifts her hand in a small wave back to Trace and Star, but pauses where she is. She considers the ground, head canted to the side a bit. Maybe she saw something interesting there.

Snitch says, "So, my darkling mistress, have you met the one known as Walker?"

Wendy is, of course, considering Snitch. That angle of her head is odd too... necks shouldn't do that. "My dear, it seems you're annoying the dear fox." Her rasp is pitched to reach the goblin alone. "One hopes you're not ruining my chances of... 'friendship' with him?" Pale skin folds on her forehead. If there were hair there, that'd be an eyebrow arching.

Snitch blinks big goblin eyes. Once, twice, and thrice. "Ruining his friendship? How would I do that? He has no reasons to dislike me /or/ my master, I dare think."

Wendy leans down just a tad, a pale hand brushing out to clasp the goblin's chin. "His kind don't need a reason, my dear." Disdain just barely threads through the rasp at the mention of the pooka. "And unfortunately, your presence is disturbing him. I need him... calm. For now."

Wendy leans over a bit in the rain, perhaps to study whatever-it-is a bit closer?

Snitch says, "If you wish me to leave, my darkling mistress, simply nod, and I will do so."

Wendy rasps, "I should consider it a great personal favor, my dear." Her hand pulls free of the smaller figure's chin, and comes up to her own lips. A light kiss is pressed to the fingertips, then transferred down to its cheek. "And I never forget a favor or a debt."

Jason'ears pick up just a little bit as the sluagh begins to murmur to the goblin, and then they tilt forward completely. Dammit, if only they weren't so quiet! And the stupid rain. Phah. Curiosity overtakes annoyance (though that's still very distinctly present) in his eyes. Best he can do is ask later, not that he expects the skulker to give an accurate reply.

Trace is so lost. You guys don't tell him anything, you know. How's *he* supposed to know he's pissing off his pretty fireheart, or that there's something belying Jason and Wendy's relationship, which has always seemed hunky dory for all you two have shown him. So he's oblivious, and peers curiously at Wendy, wondering why she hasn't approached yet. To fill the silence while he waits, he looks to Jason and wonders with a slight grin, "You doin' a good job undoing the work we did last night?" He reaches out and smooths a hand against the drenched red mane fondly.

Snitch bows very low and eagerly. "Your wish, madame, is my immediate command." He adjusts his clothes. "I depart now." He works toward the exit of the park.

Snitch heads back to Lelong Avenue.

Wendy straightens up from her lean, hands sliding into her pockets again. Then she heads towards the little trio, still taking her own sweet time.

Jason is so much like a dog, frozen and watching Wendy's odd contemplation of the ground that hestarts slightly as he's touched. He looks back to Trace and blinks a few times. Work? Undoing work? Well, yeah, Jason's admittedly quite good at ruining stuff, but what'd he do now-... oh. Hair. Yeah. He gives Trace a little bit of a sheepish grin (very little bit, actually) and shrugs slightly. "Hadda go out," is his reply. And he immediately looks back towards Wendy, but... Damn! He frowns. Musta missed something (ooh, that exciting Wendy).

Wendy /is/ exciting. Terribly so, it's radiating from her in waves. She gives Jason just the very faintest hint of a smile when she reaches the group, and another to Trace. "Good evening, gentlemen." Color that rasp LightAmusement.

Caddy steps in from the park.

Wendy is standing nearish Jason and Trace. It's raining out and evening-time, so their forms are rather indistinct.

Caddy meanders onto the playground aimlessly, pale hands stuffed in pockets and a neglected cigarette hanging from her lips. Slacker poster girl. She stops just shy of one of the wooden toys, hazy eyes attempting to focus on the misty figures sitting on the bench.

"G'deven', Wendy," Trace bends in a mini-bow. "Tonight I have been busy scaring monsters out of the castle. There's still some in the bushes, though." He giggles about it, even though he was freaking out earlier. There's safety in numbers, surely, and with both her and Jason around he's sure he can't come to harm. Besides, the monster's quiet. Maybe it went away. He bends down and picks up a pebble, hurling it towards the cypress bushes. "You there, monster?"

Jason just gives Wendy an odd look, but then he shrugs and smirks faintly, just the hint of gratitude in his eyes. For... whatever she did whenever. Cause, y'know, he didn't wanna hafta do whatever it was himself. Effort and all. Anyhow, he looks back to the quiet Star (probably huddled, 'don't pay attention to me' Star) and smirks, then blinks towards the bushes. Huh? Oh. Damn monsters. Yeah.

Wendy glances bush-wards, then asks Trace in a raspy murmur, "Will you be killing the monsters, my dear, or taming them?"

"Smack". The pebble connects with thick dark greenery, scattering a miniature drizzle of raindrops from the leaves they clung so precariously to. Tick-tick of silence. One heartbeat, two, only the call of a hoot owl slicing the quiet after-rain night. Then, a ....-snarl-. Not quite a possum, not quite a dog, not quite anything you could (or would) put a finger on. Thos cypress leaves stir raindrops to a hurricane now, as something stirs from its makeshift dirt-nest, angry.

Zoned anyone? Caddy rocks on her heels faintly as her eyes finally grip on the faint figures, smiling wanly to herself before making her way toward the wooden castle and its court. "Hey...Tra.." she begins to greet, but...hey...theres some sort of feral animal in the bushes. Her cigarette takes a diving leap from her mouth to the ground as the redhead swivels her head in that direction. Damn. Now to be mad because she lost her cigarette or scared because there possibly is a sub-human creature in the bushes?

Kill the monster? Well, Trace hadn't thought it out that far, really. He was just gonna, y'know, hurl some rocks and be tough. But the monster went and screwed that up by getting scary again. He makes a quiet 'eep' sound in the back of his throat, very timid and not at all as badass as he was trying to be about the Thing in the bushes. Then his apprehension floods into something more sheepish, as he looks from companions to Caddy. Okay, so he's a wuss. He chuckles nervously and points out, "I think it's still there."

Starlight smiles at Wendy and nods, respectfully toward the woman, and then looks to Jason again. Hrm. Kid is having issues and very obviously is one hundred percent intimidated by the red-head. Extremely. As Trace tosses in the rock, Star shakes his head and lifts his hand, putting it against the blue haired boy's arm, not pushy, as a matter of fact he's pretty careful. Don't do that. "Um, just a sec," Star gets out, softly, and begins stepping toward the bushes. "There this kid, um, who eats lizards," he explains, quietly to his friends. "And he's real fucked up, real dirty." Maybe it's the same. "And he smells like shit." The boy pauses and peers over toward Caddy and lifts his chin in greeting. Oh hey, don't mind me, I'm gonna go, ya know, get eaten or something. "I don't think he's dangerous," comes out, as the boy continues on his way, if allowed, toward the darkness of the greenery. "I mean, he's always by Jilly's house." Step step, quiet, cautious. Hmm.

Jason blinks at the sudden noises, startled a little as well. But one look at Trace gets a giggle out of him. And when he looks over to find this girl (who could be his big sister or something) looking annoyed/startled as well, he bursts into outright laughter. It's a bright sound that hasn't come from him in a long time, but it comes on full-force. Probably only the fact that the grass is sopping wet and muddy keeps him from collapsing.

Wendy's lips twitch. If she put some effort into it, maybe moved a few more muscles, she might get a smile out of that twitch, someday. Otherwise she simply falls silent to watch and listen. But since when is that a new occurance?

"What the fuck is in there?" Caddy says in a low tone to the three still by the castle, deciding to be scared rather than mad. She wasn't really smoking the cigarette, anyways....its expendable. Not like, say...her life. "Hey Star!" she calls in alarm as the boy approaches the bushes, holding out a hand but not moving. Like she's gonna go over there. "What the fuck are you doing? It's probably...like...some sort of bad..thing." Yeah, smart one! Bad thing. "I mean...well.." When does this kid listen to anyone? Not often, really. So the pale limb gets dropped to her side, head turning back to appraise the laughing Jason. "Hi," she murmurs quietly, a smile touching her lips as well.

After that first quiet, unearthly growl, nothing. No more pebbles, no more growling. At least whatever it is has some sense of.....erm...etiquette? As Star creeps closer, even the pineygreen leaves stop dripping, that preternatural stillness that usually belongs in bad slasher films just before the guy with the hook gets the horny teenagers.

Wendy rests a heavily lidded gaze on the bushes now, watching as silently as ever.

Caddy�s Desc:
Wan and fair cheeked, this one appears to be hardly more than a girl. Two huge, crystal green eyes peering out from her childishly round visage give the impression of a sweet youth. Straight, fire engine red hair falls down to the small of her back: shiny, very touchable, and fine. Splatters of matching freckles cover the bridge of her relatively neat nose, high cheeks, and chin. One of the little dots has even found its home on her small mouth, probably looking like just a speck of dirt to the casual observer.

Caddy has a lanky, sinewy body reaching about 5'9", and her slight form seems to be swallowed by the clothes she wears. A spaghetti strap tank top, sprinkled with red and orange flowers reveals pale limbs and creamy neck. Paired with slouchy grey pants that don't exactly match and scuffed, Goodwill sandals - the whole effect is one of the street slacker. The whole ensemble is completed with silver silver rings on each finger, and a torn piece of black lace around her throat. A necklace hangs there also, another ring on the end of it. When she talks...her voice is a murmur. When she moves, its always graceful. Holds herself well.

Trace is really with Caddy on this one, and follows close behind Star, one hand out hesitantly, as though ready to snatch the boy back should that thing in the bushes get fierce again and leap out and try to eat them. "I-I don't think this is some kid, Star. I really don't. It's like..." A monster! "A dog or somethin', c'mon." He tugs at the littler one's arm. Jason takes a deep breath of air and the laughter fades to giggles. Wiping an eye with this back of his hand, he watches the Hardy Brothers investigate the Case of the Growling Bush (ohhhh, the places I could go with that one). You know, sometimes he'd kill for a video camera or something. He flashes Wendy a lopsided grin, then goes back to watching.

Well God. This is kind of alarming, no? What if it 'isn't' the guy Star thinks it might be? Right, Trace. Exactly. Caddy gets a quick glance, and then Starlight like, jumps OUT of his SKIN when Trace touches him. And even lets out this little yelp type thing that /definately/ sounds all tangled with puberty. Dammit. He nearly jumps atop his buddy and shakes his head. "Okay okay, let's go. Okay." Tough-guy, eh? Hrm.

Wendy murmurs into the silence that follows Starlight's declaration of cowardice, "My dear, you don't mean to leave your small friend alone in those bushes, do you?" There's a faint note of chide to the painful-sounding rasp. Then she's adding absently, "Always is such a subjective term." To who though? What an odd woman.

Jason can't help it, he starts giggling some more. This is JUST like Scooby Doo!

Caddy as Velma? Heh. The girl frowns a little as Star backs away, becoming a little fascinated with the bush herself. "I wonder what's in there..." she murmurs faintly, ducking her head down to see if a better look can be had closer to the ground. "A kid who eats lizards...?" That can't be healthy. Finally, she kneels down on the ground, tilting her head further...long curtain of hair scraping the dirty ground. "A dog...like...wouldn't..make sounds like that? I wonder..." Go stick yer hand in and see.

Wendy flinches just a hair, heavy eyelids closing fully for a heartbeat or three before rising up to half-mast again.

Jason is clearly not paying attention to Odd Sluagh Woman. Or else he'd prolly get his hackles up as well. But as it is, his ears are perked up at the boys daring the bush, his bright eyes sparkling like they haven't in a little while. The tail, of course, twitches and skitters about behind him.

Trace looks back to Wendy, almost plaintively, and says, "Why don't *you* come see if it's... what it is?" Alright, so he believes in monsters, okay? Go ahead and giggle, Jason. He's totally lame, this sixteen year old kid who believes in monsters. But isn't that partly why you started hanging around him in the first place? Anyway, he licks his lips and looks to Caddy, trying to ignore the redhead's mirth. Then takes a little step closer. Okay, monster. I'm not scared of you. Not THAT scared, anyway. "Hey. If yer so scary, why don't you do more'n rattle bushes, huh?" He considers tossing another stone, but decides not to push it just yet.

TooFar steps in from the park.

All these folks are soaked. Trace, Star, and now Caddy are investigating the Thing in the bushes, Jason's giggling, and Wendy stands quietly. The last two are near the castle.

Wendy murmurs in answer, "Because your friends are doing a marvelous job of it for me, my dear." A glance is sent towards the bushes again, eyebrow arching oh-so faintly. "So why don't you help it?"

Cross a streetgoth with a pigeon, dump a bucket of cold water over it, and you'd have something that might resemble TooFar, that featherclad waif of lore. Well, maybe. Either way, he's damp, he's smoking his favourite chemicals, and he's humming to himself. And now he's here.

Wendy ahhs oh-so softly to herself and falls silent again to watch the bushes.

Of /course/ that's why he hangs around the bluecap, but, hey, this is hilarious. Jason hasn't been this amused in awhile. 'Sides, he'd know if this was a /real/ monster. We Firehearts can smell 'em a mile away. "Hey, yeah!" he calls to Wendy's suggestion. "Mebbe it's jus' caught 'n if ya helped it ya could get a pet monster!" Another giggle follows, but he bounces up onto his toes at the thought. "'N it'll eat all the other nasty monsters in the bushes 'n castles fer ya!" A hand reaches up to flick some of his sodden mane from his eyes. Doesn't wanna miss a thing here.

Okay, so Star just jumped and was tugged and now Trace is gonna go see what the thing is? No way, dude. "Hey, it's cool, it ain't no dog'r nuthing," he says, quietly, and steps closer also. "Dude, come out. Okay? I mean, we ain't gonna bite ya," he says, laughing a little at the end. "Don't throw shit on me, okay?" Just in case it's that stinky little boy. "C'mon, man, ya know me, right?" Or, something. Kid pushes his hand through his wet hair and then wipes palm over his face to clear off the water. Swallows and kneels down, sitting on one heel. "We're not gonna hurt you," he says, a bit more seriously. Jason's laughing, and that's all good or whatever, cause this little guy ain't gonna fuck with Mr. Riley, nope.

If someone were looking, they'd notice an odd sheen spreading over Wendy's eyes, like oil spilling along blacktop. She's either... hungry. Or intrigued.

The next noise that comes from the bushes is heart-lurchingly loud. At first it seems there's going to be another rippling snarl from the.....terribly dark.....space beneath the rain-fragrant cypresses. As Star kneels, however, the noise turns into something rather more...familiar. Gut-wrenching, colon-twisting, throat-grating -vomiting-. And then there's a trickle of smell, of ichorous puke that's full of.....rich dark dirt and writhing, half-digested maggots, flowing oh-so-gently towards the little boy's sneaker.

It's a good thing TooFar doesn't waste energy on dramatic entrances, because it looks like everyone is distracted by something. And now the perkigoth is all curious too. He nears, crunching his way through the sand and gravel, speaking up inquisitively, "Whatcha'll lookin' at?"

Okay, okay. So Caddy's feelings on monsters are just about the same as Trace's, and the redheaded girl quickly picks herself up off the ground lest the Boogie Bush Monster decide to make a debut appearance at the same moment her face is to the ground. Not a good situation. "Uhh...Star...Oh God." Green eyes dart around as the girl takes a stumble backwards, giving Trace this -look-. You know its a monster. I know its a monster. So why are we standing here? "Uhm...like...Star...I don't think thats any fucking kid in there." Kids don't really smell like that. Too often. "C'mon...okay?" Swiveling her head to feather waif, she just shakes her head and points to the bush.

Wendy murmurs something to herself, her nose wrinkling up at the scent that wafts out.

Trace jumps, badly startled, as puking sounds are interrupted by TooFar's greeting, or lack thereof. He looks over and gives a weak grin, before motioning to the bushes. "Somethin's in there. Somethin' gross what don' like rocks. An' now it's makin' barf noises." He inches closer because barf noises, while odd, are not quite so spooky as the 'hurrrr' noises from earlier. Just kind of interesting. So now he wants to stay and see what other kinds of noises the monster can make. "Maybe we oughta throw in some food, since what it's been eatin' smells real bad..." Of course, most food smells bad when it comes back up, but hey, this is like *worse* than real bad. This is MonsterBad.

Wendy suddenly turns her attention to Jason to murmur towards him, "My dear, there are other things that would poach, if one doesn't take care." There's a faint note of warning there, though about what isn't too clear.

That's one thing about this particular little scab, he's always gotta seriously gross you out. Okay, but hey, at least Star knows it's him. "It's like," the child begins, and then stands up, moving away from the river of pukey maggots, "he eats all this shit and then pukes." But, that's a little much, ya know? "Fucking crazy, really." Child's face is contorted to show exacly how sickened he is. "I mean, he was throwing shit at Jilly. Like, real crap from yer ass." Yes, Star, that's what shit usually is. And a glance to Jason. Funny now, dude? Brows lift. "There's something wrong with him," he informs the redheaded boy, seriously. And as TooFar speaks, Star's attention moves there. "Hey, dude. Um, just, ya know, some, I dunno, dude." Hope that cleared things up for ya, TooFar. "But, Cad, it's the same thing as before. I mean, you don't understand." Littlest one looks back to the bushes. "He's always there. And he eats the stuff Scout puts out. I mean, I've seen him." Punk shakes his head and bites down on his lower lip. Star doesn't believe in monsters, because monsters don't exist. Only in movies. And ain't no little boy gonna hurt him. He's bigger. And that matters. "Just come out, dude. God. Stop eating dirt." And shit. And lizards. And puke. And maggots. Christ.

Jason wrinkles up his nose as well. Ewww, monster puke. Y'know, if that's a kid in there (and Jason might be beginning to have his doubts after /that/ smell comes wafting out), it's another example of how the social services in this country are just doing a wonderful job. Nose still wrinkled, he looks to Too... What? And now the hackles /do/ go up, a sudden and /very/ hard look going to Wendy. "/What?/" Whoah, gee, where did HappyJason go? For some reason warning notes from Wendy mean more than warning notes from Star or Trace. He flicks a look over to Trace and calls out. "Hey, Trace, c'mere a sec." And then he steps closer to Wendy and murmurs questioningly.

Jason's good mood dissolves pretty quickly, and something much harder came /right/ to the surface. He /kinda/ noticed the Odd Woman's even more exceptional Oddness going on, but, for some reason, it finally occurs to him that he should be worried. "Take care 'gainst /what/?" he asks, furry ears flat back against his hair. Cause, Trace is right there, where he can see him. The bushes? What's in the bushes?

"He throws shit at you?" Caddy says, wide eyes staring at the bush of wonders again. Redhead keeps going from frightened to fascinated. "Well, fuck...I'm not standing here, then." Maybe the first intelligent decision the girl has made in awhile. Turning, she retreats wholly from the the bush to observe at a safe distance. If Star ain't got enough sense to stay away, then he can get excrement thrown on him. She'll just stand over here and have a smoke. Yes sir.

A flickery-shift beneath he cypresses, bone-white flash and there's something tiny reflecting the moonlight by Star's foot as he pleads with the bushes. Whatever it is is placed lightningquick and carefully, away from the congealing puddle of vomit with its sluggish grub passengers.

Damn, and Trace was just finally starting to lose his fear of the monster and take Wendy and Jason's advice about investigating it. He really doesn't want to believe Star's claims about a little fucked up kid who eats dirt and stuff, because monsters are more fun, though it IS kind of funny, the thought of this Thing in the bushes hurling it's dookie at Jill. Plop. Hehe. But he's an obedient bluecap, and trots on over to Jason and the Wendy-maiden. "Yeah? S'up?"

Wendy answers Jason with a shake of her head, "I don't know, my dear." Her rasp is idle; attention and gaze have returned to the bushes.

If handed Pandora's Box, and told 'I can't tell you what's inside that, TooFar, but don't open it," TooFar would try his best, but would end up either opening the damn thing, or going nuts. Or both. TooFar wants to know what's under that bush, so he gets right down near Starlight and squints in. Be it some dirty kid, an animal, or, say, Cerbeus, the featherclad waif is going to satisfy his curiousity. He addresses the bushes with a friendly, "Heellloooo?"

Star moves back, actually, before the item is flicked his way and then bends down again and gently places his fingers against the soft, yet hard surface. "Um, thanks?" he says, quietly, and lifts his present up, peering down into his palm. Hmm. As TooFar gets close, the youngest shakes his head. "Dude, it's that guy," he shares, quietly, just in case the featherwaif didn't hear him before. "He won't come out." And to the bushes again. "I saw you before, in the square, I saw you," quiet words, familiar, because Star definately knows this little grossling. Fuck it. Star scoots closer and shakes his head. "I saw you," he repeats, as if those words were supposed to /mean/ something to the hidden one.

Well, fine, force the reality of the situation down his throat. But if it's just some kid, Trace has nothing to fear, then, does he? He giggles and says to TooFar, "Throw a pebble at it. Seriously. It goes nuts, man." He turns back to Jason and Wendy. So...? Why was I called over? But he does cast the occasional, distracted glance back to the bushes.

Jason frowns some more at Wendy's answer. Isn't it, like, her /job/ to know stuff? So Jason just gets even more disturbed. Wendy must be auditioning for the next Oracle job or something. Sigh. But he has to give Trace a reason here, so he just shrugs to the boy. "She was jus' sayin' how she knows this kid 'n he's like.. gross an'.." He jerks his chin towards Star. "Like he said, throws his shit at people 'n has like.. worms comin' out his ass or sumthin'." There, appropriately gross, but whatever. "Y'know?" He gives a little smirk.

Ta da. Caddy produces a cigarette and lighter from her grey pants, hopefully this one to have a better fate then the last. "You're gonna get shit on you, TF," the redhead warns from her safe distance, sparking up the stick in her mouth with a heavy inhale. He doesn't want that, does he? "I mean....he eats lizards. I wouldn't throw any fucking pebbles at a kid that eats lizards." The guy would hafta be a little...off..right? Who knows what someone like that is capable of? "He's gonna eat you," she giggles, tilting her head while green eyes never falter from the bush.

"I ain't gonna throw no rocks at nobody, man," mutters TooFar in protest, in spite of external remarks for or against it, willing his vision to pass through leafs, branches and darkness. "C'mon out, man," he addresses the bush, hunched over a little, all ready to avoid flying excrement, "S'cool." Starlight's inferences as to Bushboy's identity don't really make any sense to him, but now isn't the time to go debating communications issues, y'know? Of course you do.

Trace gets this *really* strong urge to throw a rock, now, since everyone else is too concerned or sympathetic to the boy who pukes maggots at them. He wouldn't even throw a BIG rock. A little pebble. Yeah. Coz it really did go nuts. Crazy monster. Looking back, it's funny. His fingers twitch. Must. Throw. Rock. He looks to Jason with puzzlement and then just grins and says, "Yeah, um. S'what Star said." Anyway, can I go play with the monster now? He looks at Jason like a kid waiting for his parents to zip his jacket and put on his mittens and wrap his scarf and that whole infuriating ritual while all your friends are outside pelting each other with snowballs merrily. Not like he's ever seen snow, or had a mom who did stuff like that, but anyway, he looks back to the other kids eagerly.

Wendy murmurs to Jason, "Why don't you just go play too, my dear?" She's hardly the Mommy type herself, but she certainly sounded a bit like one just now.

TooFar must have been too close, perhaps the Thing is featherphobic. Or maybe it's allergic to perki, goths, or just people in general. Whatever the case, a far-too-tiny hand, a blur of filthywretch twigbone skin, gnarly overgrown claw-nails dark as oakchips, flits out quicker than a silvery minnow in a rip-current, snatches up a handful of vomit, wriggling carrion-worms and all, and flings it straight into the bedraggled-looking man's oh-so-near-and-handy face. *splootttt*

This was partially expected, y'know, worst case scenerio and all. He just didn't think it would happen, y'know, right now. No warning. No 'take that!' or 'touche pussy cat!' like is right and decent. TooFar reacts violently, throwing his arms in the way and trying to simply not be there similtaneously. It might've worked out if he'd made his mind up. "/Fuck!/" sputters a displeased featherwaif, having avoided the sneak attack, but just. The right side of his jacket crawls with dripping maggot things, his ass just soaked from propelling himself backwards into the soggy grass. He looks unhappy, "You fucker!"

Wendy's breath escapes on a sigh at the /vicious/ attack. She shakes her head a bit, but otherwise doesn't respond, simply continuing to listen and watch.

"Now betchya wanna throw rocks," snickers the bluecap, having already scooped to pick up his. But he's still awaiting the fireheart's permission to rejoin the exploration of the bush.

Star is back, and back quick. "Stop!" he calls out, as his friend gets pelted with disgusting yuck. Little boy still has his present in his hand and looks /pissed/. "Fucking chill, dude," comes out. "Fuck." And to Trace. "No, wait, just," he sighs. Screw it. Star backs off, probley about a good fifteen feet and just shrugs. Grubby little bushboi is on his own. "'s fucked up, man." Badly.

Jason started to reply to Trace and his question when this whole vomit-tossing thing started. He just blinks, then wrinkles his nose. That is /gross/. But then he has to hide a smirk (though Trace catches a hint of it). "Just imagine, that coulda been you," he murmurs to his friend. And then he crouches down and picks up a couple of rocks as well. And they're actually /rocks/, not pebbles. Small ones, admittedly, but they'd hurt on a lucky shot.

Even if all the other kids are doing it, Caddy isn't. Nah ah. Not after -that- little display of vomiting pleasentry. "I -told- you, TF...I -told- you..." And now she's laughing at his pain, shaking her head as she gives her little 'I told you so'. What did she say...? 'You'll get shit on you, TF'. But nooooooo! Maybe feathery will listen to her next time.

As quick as he can, TooFar pulls off his jacket, tossing it to the ground a few feet from him, the white little digusting creatures that have managed to survive what must be a really bad day for them, retreating into the cover of grass and feathers. Godfuckindamn. Now the just-wearing-a-shirt-clad waif glares into the bush, remarking in terms of amazement, the same tone used for expressions like 'Wow, I didn't know that!' 'That's really cool!' is used for, "I'm gonna kick his ass." He's still sitting there for the moment, like having come to this decision had suprised him.

Star's wait doesn't register, or is ignored for the sake of fun, take your pick. The blue-haired boy hurls his rock into the cypruss bushes with a warcry, "Arrhh! Take that, puke thrower!!" Thunk! He scrambles for more rocks and laughs. "Kill the monster!" You know, if this IS some poor messed up kid huddled in the bushes, this is kinda malicious. But after all, it DID just hurl puke at his friend, so he figures that places those outside the bush firmly in the position of the Good Guys. So Trace his exuberent in his cruelty, as another rock quickly follows the first, lobbing his attack from what he assumes to be a safe enough distance from the foul little creature's nest.

Wendy watches silently still. She makes no move to stop Trace's cruelty, nor join in it herself. Jussst watches. Seems to be her 'thing'.

A veritable -explosion- of dislodged leaves, rainwater flying from the bushes in a halo too big to be caused simply by the rocks that Wild Trace hurls into the hedge. Littleboy warcries are answered with those guttural animal-snarls in a rush of sound as whatever it is causes a Doppler effect down the hedgerow. It's running inside there, bulleting through some private tunnel in the middle of the cypresses, a ripple-spray of leaves and water marking its progress from the outside. Doesn't like rocks, no. But then, other people don't like puke. Nor maggots.

Jason was tossing the rock in his own hand contemplatively, testing its weight and his desire to huck it at something at the same time. Trace's sudden barrage of rocks though, certainly starts to tip things more into the 'do' rather than the 'do not' category. But the thing that /really/ does it is the sudden bolt of the kid in the bushes. Instincts kick in and he just lets the first rock fly into the bushes with surprising accuracy; the stone plunges into the bushes just behind the ripple of leaves and snarls. Another follows the first, and then a third soon after. All done with a sort of wicked grin and flashing green eyes. Hey, chase it away for now. Mebbe hunt it down later. S'all a thrill anyway.

Star remains where he is, eyes following the mess as it makes way, assaulting the follage. Heh. He smirks a little, then shakes his head and looks toward TooFar. "Dude, Caddy told ya," he reminds the older, quietly. Clears his throat and shifts attention to Trace and Jason. Lifts his key to his lips and pushes it against, then shrugs up his shoulders and walks to a swing. Maybe that's why Jason doesn't like Star, ya know? Star ain't into throwing rocks and laughing and pretending about monsters. Nope. Just kind of, ya know, hangs out and stays quiet, mostly. At any rate, there goes the excitement, yes. "He's so whacked," the child mutters, quietly. Still has that, uh, whatever it was, in his other hand, obviously intends on keeping it.

Caddy plops on the ground with her cigarette, sticking with her thoughts on throwing things at kids who eat lizards. You just don't wanna do it, and she won't. But the girl grins as the others do, flicking green eyes over to the unfortunate TooFar every now and then. His state of affairs makes her laugh, little bitch she is.

Just sitting there, watching this one-sided mineral-based firefight take place, is TooFar. He's rested his arms on his knees, the rolled up sleeves of his roughknit shirt doing nothing to protect his scrawny limbs from the cold, goosebumps forming. This decision to kick someone's ass doesn't appear motivation enough to chase the bushfuckinbaby through the undergrowth. Maybe he just needs to contemplate the manner. Either way, he's sitting there, soaking up rainwater. "What's in the hand, man?" This is said in TooFar's normal tones of curiousity. Y'know, the one that got him here to begin with. Caddy is being ignored. I'm not angry. I'm perfectly calm. Bitch.

Yep, the wildman's been unleashed. "Kill the monster!!" Seems Wendy's question has been answered; there'll be no taming of this monster. Trace picks up a run, trying to trail the flurry of leaves and rainwater and hurling rocks as he goes. Thunk, thunk... He isn't all that accurate, but he's persistant anyway. No hunting later. Hunting is for now. Matters like these are impromptu, instinct driven, because once the adreneline flees and he actually stops and thinks about what he's doing, it'd probably be less... cheerful than his current state. For he really does look to be having a blast. Trace, vanquisher of the monster in his castle, now has new prey! The kingdom must be defended! Or something.

Starlight laughs a little as he watches Trace, cause, ya know, it's rather funny, even tho poor Bushhead is getting fried with little rocks. Maybe Star didn't hear TooFar, because he doesn't respond, just finishes his trek to the swing and plops on down. One hand wraps around the metal chain, the other opens and he peers down into it, curiously, hair falling to conceal his face from onlookers. He's content to just hang, ya know? Quiet mode. Cept, he does glance up at Jason, when the older isn't looking. Scowl. Snarl. Hate? Jerk. Fades and he settles back into examining Crapboi's present to him.

The concept of 'zero' is new to mathematics, relatively speaking. The absence of something. Primative cultures have difficulty with the idea of a mathematical absence. This is leading somewhere, don't worry. It's to do with TooFar. He's now watching Starlight. Starlight, you see, has something, and TooFar doesn't know what it is. Starlight may wish to keep this item secret. Here's where Zero fits in. TooFar is unable to comprehend that he may be unable to learn something, once his curiousity has got hold of him. It's a blind spot in his math, if you will. Starlight has something, and TooFar will find out what it is. That's the math of perkigoth. There is no zero. He picks himself up out of the wet grass, and starts on over to the girliboi, "Whatcha got there, man?"

Wendy continues to listen and watch silently. Maybe that's all she knows how to do?

Perhaps some of those zesty-pelted rocks hit flesh, they certainly look close enough to the flicker of hedge movement, but the undergrowth crash and rustle is louder than a regular -stampede- of monsters, not to mention the whoops of little boys. More than one....savage? If anything is screaming besides Trace, it's lost. And then there's a stillness, the Doppler-hedge reaches the edge of the playground where it fades back into the perimeter bushes of the main park, and.....something's flown free.

No-thing disappears from sight.

Jason has a fourth stone ready, this one sort of smooth and flat and perfect for hucking at moving targets. He just wants to wait for the right opportunity... which never comes. The kid's gone, out of the park, and Jason just shrugs about it, still smiling with that nasty gleam to his eyes. Mebbe he'll find him again. So Jason lobs the thing into the trees and causes a little cascade of clatterings as it bounces through the branches and then into the bushes. The grin gets flashed to his fellow monster-hunter, and then Jason looks to the kid on the swing and the puked-upon one. Fortunately for Star, Jason doesn't know he has anything. Yet.

Star lifts his chin, peering up at the approaching TooFar and curls his fingers around his 'gift'. "Um, nuthin', man." See, Star doesn't want to share. It's his. And besides, someone might take it away. And that would be bad. Anyway, the child turns his attention to The One Who Could Make Him Tell Secrets, Jason for those of you who don't know who Star's is scared shitless of, and then looks back to TooFar. "Um, that was pretty sick, yeah?" No duh. "I mean, he does that shit a lot, but he's a like, little kid. I mean, I don't get it." Le sigh. "At least he didn't get yer head, man. He does that a lot." Kid is an expert on No-thing, see. Say it fast, it's funny. Starts swinging back and forth, a little and if TooFar doesn't move, he's gonna get hit. "Better get yer coat, ya should like, wash it off or something." Important stuff.

"It's gone," Caddy observes sagely and belatedly from her spot on the ground, away from the rocks that would smash open her red head. "I don't think he liked that very much, I think hes gonna find y'all and eat you..." she murmurs, getting one last toke off her cigarette before crushing it out under her boot while standing up. Wanna see what Star has, too. Anything that thing had under there is bound to be even a little intresting. "What is it, Star...?"

What? Gone? Trace snarls and even goes so far as to thrash at the bush, parting it to peek inside, and then out into the park, straining for a retreating, little monster-shaped shadow racing across the dark lawns. But... nothing? Dammit, that's so not fair. He wanted.... what did he want? He thinks about this for a second. To get a good look at it? To catch it? To crack its little monster head open with a rock? Well, who knows what he wanted, least of all Trace himself. But it's just a kinda anti-climatic end to the Kill the Monster game. He puzzles, and his excitement rolls off of him with the cool rain. He looks back to Jason with faint puzzlement and complains, "Where'd he go?"

'Um, nuthin' says girliboi to TooFar. As previously noted, he'll have difficultly with that. 'What colour is the sky, man?' 'Zero.' See? It just doesn't work. "No, really." TooFar is being insistant, and shuffles aside to that Star's swinging motion won't interfer with his observation of That Which I Don't Know, Yet Soon Will. He has to cross his arms now, a single shiver. 60 degrees and drizzle is not kind on scrawny little jacketless things like he, "What is it?"

Starlight shakes his head and stops the swing, then stands up, moving as if to leave. Still has his thingy tho. "Blue, um," he says, then shrugs. Quieter, to Caddy and TooFar. "It's nothing, okay?" Not annoyed, but definately wants to be left alone about his present. He's paranoid, or whatever. (out of turn with permission!)

Well, Star /was/ fortunate, but people pestering the kid to see what he's got kinda draws Jason's attention. What? Something that someone's trying to hide? Must. Pry. From. Cold. Dead. Fingers. The redhead (the... smaller redhead?) comes trotting over, Monster forgotten for now. Green eyes pry at Star's small hand and, when they can't discern anything, then flash up to Star's face, echoing the crooked grin that Jason gets. "He drop sumthin? Whatcha got? Jason doesn't mind invading Star's 'personal space' either, cos he gets right up in there. The kid's got something that Jason wants to see, so he's gonna see it. Simple as that. Him and TooFar could get along nicely in this regard.

"Here...TF..." Caddy murmurs, slipping her own jacket off her frail shoulders to hand over to her fine feathered friend. May have laughed at him when he was covered in monster puke, but being cold is just different. Not a laughing matter. "You can have my jacket if you're cold.." And he quite obviously is. As for Starlight, the redhead looks at him in annoyance. Why does he have to be like that? They just had a bonding, or something....met a monster and lived to tell. But whatever. The two really don't have the best track record for getting along, so she dismisses him after her petty look of pissiness. He can hoard it and be a little grouch, see if she cares. Punk.

TooFar is really having difficulty getting his head around this. It's amusing, really. Perkigoth usually seems to have it together. He must be a right basketcase around Christmas. "But you're going to show me later, right?" This may sound like a compromise, but it really isn't. Starlight isn't going to show this to me... right now. He can follow that. Not now. Later. TooFar never had that demanding thing Jason has. Jason thinks it's his right to know. TooFar /needs/ to know. But if not now, later. That's cool. Later. We can do later. Caddy's jacket is taken with appreciation, but his mind isn't on the weather or the cold. What's in Star's hand?

Trace lets go of the thrill, the indignance, and the confusion at having chased and been eluded by the monster slowly, with slight effort, like trying to unclench your fist from something you'd really rather hang onto. Deep breath. Okay. Welcome back to reality, little bluecap. Everyone's attention is elsewhere... on Star? Hey, that's right. He'd asked Star to come here. They were gonna talk. He peers at the other kids wonderingly. Almost like they're ganging up on the littler boy. Hey, that's not allowed (thinks the boy who led the monster attack on teeny No-Thing -- ahh, the hypocracy of youthful logic). "What's goin' on?" he asks, then purses his lips.

So, it looks like Star's gonna get away with being his 'hoarding little grouchy' self. It does. And he's gonna leave too. Because, that's what he does best. He leaves. Little boots carry him through the wet sand but then, oh god, there's Jason. Like, /right/ in front of him and the mere presense of the older causes an audible gasp. It's almost immediate, the child's hand opening, and he exposes, to Jason, the item from No-thing. "Jus' a head," Tiny says, quietly, then looks down. Must be nice to have someone so subservient, eh? Star'd love it if someone were to him, but alas, not yet. Yet. And Trace speaks, Star moistens his lips and looks up at his friend, eyes showing a fair amount of intimidation. "He gave me uh head," he repeats. "Jusssa head."

It's a little rats head. It's gleaming, really. Looks like it was sucked completely clean. Or, heh, maybe just really clean.

Starlight should mention, that his hand does close up over the present, right after Jason sees it. Or should Jason try to take it from him.

Are TooFar and Caddy lepers? "What the fuck...?" the girly redhead mutters, looking over to feathery waif with pursed lips. Why can't -she- see the head? Why can't -she- have some candy, Ma? "Oh, fuck him..." she mutters under her breath, content to flop down on a swing and root out another cigarette. Can't feel healthy without that dose of nicotene, ya know.

Wow, yeah, it /is/ nice having someone this subservient. Jason didn't even need to /say/ anything, really. Good boy, you get a gold star (tee hee). He peers down at the thing, then lifts a hand to reach for it... But Star closes his hand up again. Well, hey now. Now Star gets a scowl from the... um, redhead with the green eyes. No, wait, still doesn't work. From Jason. There. He scowls slightly, see, but then he just smirks. Okay. That actually spoke volumes. "He yer friend'r sumthin?"

TooFar doesn't like this at all. "Wha'th'fuck?" This is said in uncomprehending protest. This other guy - sans-featherwaif doesn't really know him yet - can see what's in Star's hand, but he can't? What's with this? TooFar even looks hurt, like the kicked puppy or something, "Fer fuck's sake, man, I jus' wanna know what the fuck's in yer hand." He doesn't even sound angry, just... confused. He hasn't had a cig in about a half hour, but that's secondary. He's just looking at the departing Star.

Hey, Trace. You remember how Star usta act with you about, I dunno, six months ago or so? When you first met him? Scared and shy and withdrawn? Well, he's baaaaack. When faced with Jason. For whatever reason. And, although Caddy and TooFar don't know Jason, perhaps they might get the idea what Star is /afraid/ of the older boy? This isn't something he's doing willingly, he honestly thinks Jason is going to take his present. And he doesn't want it. "It's a rat's head," he says to the two that are, uh, whining, but doesn't take his eyes off the threat. "I don' really know'im yet, but he's always around Jilly's, makin' a mess'n stuff," he says, quietly. See, told ya, Jason can make the kid talk, but Jason /ain't/ getting his skull. Nope. Or, well, Jason hasn't really tried, so, but if he did, uh-- nevermind. "You shouldn't throw rocks at'im. I mean, maybe Too can," heh, say that fast, "but, I mean, he didn't do shit to ya." What's this? Is Star reprimanding the /firey/ redhead? And to Trace. "I mean, I think he's fucked up? Um," a frown crushes the child's brow and he looks down again, hand at his side. "Jus', uh, I dunno." So yeah, Star actually likes the little fucker. And he'd stick up for any of yous guys too. Yep. Just the way he is. Course, he'd do it quietly, as he is now, but still.

Trace has no shame, even after Star sticks up for the gross little No-Thing. It was a monster. Monsters get rocks thrown at them. This is basic, childhood 101. Wasn't Star there for that lesson? Ah well. He just shrugs and doesn't apologize for his actions. Instead he glances at Jason. You know, it *is* kind of strange, the way his fireheart bosses around the pretty one so easily, and how Star just *takes* it, no attitude or anything. Very weird. He hasn't figured it out yet. And it seems he won't tonight, either, because he doesn't persue it. Instead he wonders, "You still wanna head back to Walker's?" And he looks back at TooFar and Caddy too, to include them, despite their current annoyance at Star. "We could get a fire goin', an' there's warm stuff t'drink. Walker don't care if you smoke in there, neither." He shrugs. Seems important to those three, anyway. "But it's like... I'm really fuckin' drenched, y'know?" He picks at his t-shirt hugging the too-thin ripple of ribs -- kinda embarrassing, that -- and tries to get it to stop clinging to his skin, to no avail.

"A rat's head?" Well, cool. TooFar seems to reinflate or something. The fact he's being rained on is noticed. The fact his precious albeit filthy feathered coat is lying in the grass is noticed. The fact it's cold is noticed. Most importantly, curiousity is no longer causing him to ignore the howling, screaming need for something, anything, with nicotine in it. Where the hell are my smokes. Maybe Caddy's jacket has smokes in it. This Star/Jason relationship is dimly noted, but that will have to wait until he's sucking on tobacco.

Nadine steps in from the park.

No, Caddy's jacket does not have any smokes in it. The girly redhead isn't that dim witted, to hand over a whole package of the divine stuff to TooFar. "Here..." One of the white sticks is produced from the case in her pocket and offered to her friend. A peace offering of sorts, along with the jacket. Sorry I laughed at you when you covered in monster vomit. Let's be friends! "Uhm...I really can't Trace..." she says faintly, looking over to the blue hair with a wan smile. "I really...kind of have to get to the apartment...but thanks." Starlight and his "treasure" are all but forgotten for the moment. No need to longer on things that make us bitter. These four kids are all standing around the swingset getting drenched. TooFar's famous feather coat is off, laying on the grass and currently sullied. It's nighttime.

Jason gives star a look when the kid tells him what he /shouldn't/ be doing. A rather intense 'what did you say?' sort of look which drills the smaller boy long enough that Star can get the full measure of Jason's annoyance at being told he /shouldn't/ be doing something, however meekly, by this kid. But then he gets that crooked grin again. "If he didn' run, wouldn' have tossed any rocks. 'Sides, wasn' trying to hit him, chill out." When Trace brings up the idea of Walker's and a fire, he hmm softly, contemplating it. And then (probably much to Star's dismay), he says to his blue-haired friend, "Hey, I'll catch up to ya in a few, wanted ta ask Star sumthin'." When none of you were around. And despite the fact that Trace had dibs.

Blue locks remain obscured beneath the shelter of a knit hood attached the the black sweatshirt swallowing Nadine's narrow upper torso. A cigarette (quel surprise) lays limp between the thin contours of her lips. Nothing new there. Nopes. She shuffles into the playground, feet pushing against the grass idly. She stops as she spies the group of youths gathered. Hrm. Kinda late for playtime isn't it? Still, a lazy smile twists against her lips, stride picking up slightly in pace, but not too quickly. Wouldn't want to seem uncool or something.

TooFar, as noted above, just somehow seems lesser without his jacket. The feathers did add some bulk, such as it was, but it's more than that. TooFar without jacket. Weird. Looks like he's wearing Caddy's. The offered cig is quickly enflamed, and hauled back on like air to a drowning man. Even practiced lungs as these aren't used to the abuse, and TooFar spends the next moment enjoying a wracking caugh that does nothing to help reduce how damp and cold he is. Goddamn. Still, the need is fading, and he's starting to relax some. The Star/Jason relationship is picked up. Pretty quick, for some teenage streetgoth, eh? He doesn't say anything about it, there's just this sudden impression he's not going to be going anywhere very quickly. I know Star. I don't know you. I know Nadine. "Hey Nadine." This is what TooFar knows.

Starlight wilts under that intense look from Mr. Riley and then actually steps back upon the announcement that Jason wants to talk to him. Alone? Christ. He shakes his head, then just, um, stops and folds his arms, eyes on the ground. Okay. God. Yep, still has his thingy in his hand, tightly. "Um, I didn't do nuthing," he says, quietly, presumably to Jason, but he doesn't look up. Nope. He did /nothing/. Or, he didn't do /anything/. Hrm.

Huh. You know, Trace has none of this fear of Jason that Star seems to have. Jason's his equal, in his mind anyway, and so he has no problem with speaking right up to him. "How long you gonna be?" he wonders with a slight frown. "Coz it's like I kinda.. came here to talk to Star, y'know? Like I was meeting him here. And it's like all this stuff happened and people showed up, but even so." He reaches back and scritches at some blue braids before shoving a big handful of them away from his face. "So like, sure thing, but bring him back quick, okay?" Like we're loaning out video games or something. Hackey-sack Star.

And you know what? Jason completely allows Trace to be that way to him. Star's like, on a lower level or something. Cos Jason furrows his brows up a little bit, pensive. And then he nodnods to Trace. "Jus' gonna be a few. S'real quick." Like they were bargaining or something, yeah. I'll take him for now and then you can have him and then we can trade him for something else and... "Don' worry, we'll be, like, right behind you almost." He gives Trace an apologetic smile. Sorry for stealing your Star. Heh.

Nadine looks about the area, casting a glance upon each of the occupants. Star, Caddy, Trace - all merit a pleasant nod from the commonly churlish woman. Jason..he's new. She does not know him. An inquisitive perusal ensues, quickly drawn away as something odd and out of the ordinary is noted. What is this? TooFar without his feather cassock? Spry fingers raise, whisking the cigarette from the lofty perch of Nadine's mouth. Ashes sprinkle downwards, shedded. A slender, bejeweled brow of obsidian arches curiously, eyes darting between TooFar and the unworn garment upon the ground. "Don't you feel a little naked without your feathers," she drools towards the andro-boi, booted feet sinking in the ground as she heads in his general direction.

"Nadeeeeeeey!" Caddy calls in that jubilant greeting her..uhm...girly blue haired friend always gets. Redhead pushes herself up from the swing, wrapping arms around pale, exposed limbs. Kinda cold when you have no jacket. "Sup?" she murmurs to Nadine..and if Jason and Caddy are mirror images, Nadine and Caddy sure resemble each other in the way they act sometimes. Both with dangling cigarettes, both with slow paces. "I...uhh...actually have to get going," she admits, starting to trudge away already.

Caddy heads back to Lelong Avenue.

People who've been the victim of bullies themselves are generally better able recognize the pattern of behavoir in others. It's from this depth of experience that TooFar - well, just look at him. He had to have taken a beating or three at least in his lifetime - can figure out what's going on between Star and Jason. Star is quiet, retreating, reserved. Jason is cocky, confident, and forceful. Well well. Nadine's remarks distract him from his quiet sizing up of the older teen (same height, Jason looks to have a dozen or so pounds over him)... "M'jacket's dirty, Naddy." He doesn't look pleased to have to mention that, either. Unpleasant thoughts.

Trace looks over as Nadine's presence is so cheerily announced by Caddy, who quickly retreats soon after. He gives the redheaded girl a little wave, and then his attention is turned over to Nadine. "Hi," he greets amiably. "S'up with you? Was wonderin' if I'd see you 'round. I want you to do the nape of my neck some time." He reaches back to touch the skin at the back of his neck, pale hand slithering beneath the braids. "Jason might come. That's him there. He might wanna get somethin' pierced sometime too." He jerks a thumb back towards the 'bully', heh.

And even tho Nadine is here, and Star /likes/ Nadine, the little boy just lifts his chin and then drops it back down. Yep. He definately looks like he's in trouble. Arms folded, wet little self dripping on everything that's under him and he couldn't /possibly/ be more humble. Fuckerhead, Jason. Well, he's here, talk or something. Or, whatever. Hrm.

"Later Caddy," the blue haired pin cushion yells out towards the little redheaded pot Princess. Yeah but Nadine has blue hair and Caddy has Red. And uhhhh Nadine is an adult, or at least that's what her ID says. Pong..over towards Trace, "Hey there. Yeah, we can talk about that..but first..." Oooo ToooFaaaaaaaaaaaar: "How'd it get dirty?" And leave it to Nadine to ask that question. I mean by the sound of TooFar's voice, sure seems like there is a story to be had here. And Nadine loves her stories. Gossip, gossip, gossip. Another glance shoots down to the sullied jacket. Feathers are going to be a bitch to clean. Not like he can really take it to a dry cleaner or anything. Or can he? I mean they do clean down comforters and all. Either way, not Nadine's problem. Now, there's a story? Rapt attention pings towards TooFar. She's waiting. Give it to her TooFar.

So... This Nadine chick has blue braids and her friend Caddy has red and... And... Trace has blue hair and his friend Jason has red. Welcome to the twilight zone. Jason gives Nadine the once over as she passes by, but then his attention goes to Star. Cos everyone else has removed their attention, it seems. Anyhow, he looks down to Star and murmurs, "Let's go to the castle."

And, of course, the blue-haired people have piercings. And want more. Eerie.

Starlight actually looks a little bit annoyed, but fuck it. He shrugs up his shoulders again and nods. Yeah, let's go into the castle, because people can still /hear/ us in there and that's a good thing. The littlest turns and begins walking, on his own. So long, my friends. If I don't see you ever again, it's been fun. Little glance to Nadey and TooFar and Trace. Oh the drama!

Leaving Nadine waiting anxiously for a moment, TooFar peers mournfully over at his poor, precious jacket. Still lying there in the wet grass. It's quite soaked, really, and from this distance one of the sleeves seems to be covered in rice, "Someone messed m'jacket. Gotta get it drycleaned or somethin'." Nor does he look happy about it, no more because he has to talk about it either. This is personal. Between a man and his jacket. The clothing is soiled. Someone messed it. News at eleven. His attention moves back to Star and Jason, the little playground drama. "Need a hand there, man?" This is clearly and pointedly addressed to Starlight. All casual-like, but meaningful.

Ahhhhhhhhh..an 'accident' occurred. Nadine nods quite slowly, showing that perhaps she understands. "That sucks man." What a comfort it must be to hear her vocalize those words, reaffirming the shittyness of the situation. Helpful gal that Nadine. As TooFar speaks over towards Star, Nadine invariably looks back over to Pretty and the drama being played out at the Playground-Coral. Well if Jason traps Star up in the castle, Star could always grow his hair long and do a Rupunzel right? He's pretty enough. "See ya," she barrells over towards the PYT, fingers raising to engage in some sort of waggle like wave.

"Monster barf," Trace supplies Nadine with his own much briefer explanation, once TooFar finishes his -- leaving out, in his opinion, that very vital fact in the story. He looks back over at the jacket and clucks his tongue sympathetically. Poor featherboi. He blinks as Nadine waves. Hmm? Didn't she just get here? "Uh, bye," he finally gets out. Guess that leaves him and the jacket-less one. Wait... She's not leaving, just busting in on Jason and Star's tete-a-tete? Hmm. That won't make Jason happy. But it's something to see, so he watches with interest, though remains out of eavesdropping range.

Jason gives Star another look at the annoyed expression that the smaller boy gets. But then he gets one of his own. First TooFar calls over and now Nadine's actually /coming/ over. Guess he was wrong about everyone's attention. He stops his momentum towards the castle, which, despite Star's misgivings, is quiet and mostly out of the rain. At least beneath it. But anyhow, he stands there and just watches this girl approach, brows raised. He's really starting to hate people now. Usually they're okay, but not right now.

Naaah, Nadine isn't busting in on anything. She was merely giving a little wave to the exitting Star, much as women wave to men on their way to battle as their ship sails off the ocean. Good Luck! May god be with you! And all that mucketty-muck. Adieus bestowed, Nadine shifts those dark eyes of hers back to Trace and TooFar, "A monster barfed on your jacket?" What-the-fuck? Hands finds her boney hips, head bobbing forward like some kind of pecking chicken. Uh oh. TooFar, you bad boy, you didn't give Nadine the truth and nothing but the truth so help you god. "What monster?"

Star glances back to Nadine and lifts his hand in a side-to-side wave. Since the lady isn't coming, the littlest continues on his way to the castle, his death-walk slow and paced. Ho hum. He so didn't do anything wrong, okay? He's innocent, or something. Over his shoulder, he peers toward Jason, just to make sure the older is coming, then ducks under, into the dry. Out of site, really, since it's dark. Isn't this scary?

Yes, Trace entirely thought TooFar could do a much better job telling the tale of the Monster in the Bushes, with his maggoty vomit and skull gifts and the mad race through the bushes as the Good Guys flung rocks (as is appropriate when you're battling monsters, when you have no sword). In fact, he's itching to tell it with the proper bravado and flair it deserves. But Nadine seems intent on getting the tale out of TooFar, so he sits back and waits.

"Some bushkid," TooFar explains unhelpfully, "Don't know who it was." His eyes, following Starlight, briefly light over to his jacket. He has more smokes in there, enough to replace the one he just finished up and ground under his foot. Damned if he'll smoke them, though. Glance back on Starlight. TooFar can't come unless invited by at least someone. That's the law of the junglegym, as old and as true as the sky. "If I find out who it was, I'm gonna kick their ass."

Bushkid? Just some bushkid? Awwww, GEEZ. Trace sulks to himself, looking heavenward. Heroes can't get proper heralds these days.

Well it's become apparently obvious that TooFar sucks in the story telling department. See if anyone asks him to tell ghost stories around the fire. He'd probably give a version of events something like 'So there was this guy with an axe. He killed everyone. Spooky, eh?' SO instead, Nadine turns to the bouncing and nearly exploding Trace. "What's your version?" Here's your chance. Give it to her Trace. Let it all out.

When it becomes obvious that there /isn't/ going to be an interruption (and that the Law of the Junglehym has survived intact), Jason pads after Star and, with one glance over his shoulder to make sure no one's following, he ducks under the the castle. Lucky Star.

The bluecap certainly leaps at the chance, lighting right up. Deep breath. Get ready, folks. One asks this kid to tell a story at his own risk. "When I got to the park, right? There was this old grizzly monster up in my castle, with his big ogre toes hangin' out. An' his breath, it were so foul, you could see it. All green and puffin out with his wheezy voice. He sat up all spindly and peered out with squinted red eyes and he threw bottles at me! I hadda duck or it woulda took my head clean off, or bonked it anyway. But he started yellin' at Star an' me, goin' "YOU LITTLE BOOGERS!!" He really does holler it at the top of his lungs, and immediately afterwards starts laughing at that. I mean, this guy really said that. It's really funny, looking back. Though once his mirth has calmed, he gets back on track with his tale. "But anyway, I tole him it was my castle, and threw his bottle back, an' it smashed *right there*, at the bottom." See, proof like this is effective in storytelling. It means it's All True. So he gestures towards the clear broken glass at the side of the castle proudly. "After that he ran away. Then the other monster came. He made these noises like "HUURRRRR! HURRRRR!!" He wiggles his fingers for dramatic effect. "And I was like dude, what's up with this monster, so I threw a rock at it. And it went CRAZY! It was rattlin' the bushes an' shakin'!" He grins broadly. "Star was brave, and started to creep in close to talk to the monster. An' the monster held out a quick, bony little hand, snapped it out and back in so fast, just in time to drop a little present at his feet. And you know what it was? It was a RAT skull! The monster barfed everywhere, real noisy-like, and it smelled *so* bad. Dead bodies in a blender with week-old anchovies wouldn't smell so bad. Then TooFar and Caddy showed up. Caddy din' wanna go near it, but TooFar bent down, and he was like Hallloooo!! And that hand came out, snickity-quick, and TooFar had monster barf flung all over his jacket!" He just beams, pointing to the jacket. More Proof. "Then me and Jason started throwin' rocks, coz clearly this monster was just as fierce as the castle monster and needed t'be vanquished. And we chased it all down the row of bushes, but when it got to the end of the row of 'em, everything went still. And it was GONE." His eyes widen a little. Totally gone. Freaky.

TooFar ignores the director's cut of The Jacket Epic. He was there. He doesn't want to hear about it again. Instead he's looking over at the fort. And he's curious, too, but this is a different curious. This one will have to wait. "Bum a cig off ya, Naddy?" A quiet request, lacking his usual cheer. It's been a hard night on little TooFar.

A sudden exclamation, "What the fuck is it with people in this town and fucking rat skulls?" Disgust rings forth in Nadine's tone. Obviously, she doesn't see the lure and luster of little vermin heads. Her head shakes, chest heaving slightly. "Anyway, that's a pretty messed up story. So like just this insane thing vomitted all over everything?" She even points to the soiled jacket. Oooh the poor, poor jacket. And the least she can do at this point is donate a cigarette to TooFar. It's a pity smoke. She nods to the sullen boi, dipping her hand into her sweatshirt pocket and withdrawing her battered soft pack. "Here, have one."

TooFar takes a cig. Takes two, in fact. It's what he does when offered an open pack. One for the mouth, one goes behind the ear. It's just what he does. One is lit - the one in the mouth. Duh. - and savoured, the calming nicotine in his bloodstream making him feel colder. Friggin' damp. At least Caddy left him her jacket. Another glance over at the castle doesn't help any, he can't hear or see jack. Grumble.

"It weren't just any old vomit," Trace sighs patiently. "It were *monster* barf. It had maggots in it, real live maggots!" But this audience of two doesn't seem all that impressed by the little, gory details that Trace so enjoys about monster encounters (yeah, like he's had so many in his life -- an old hack at this monster fighting biz, yep). He shakes his head confusedly. He told you all the very best parts, what went wrong? Oh well. He goes back to picking at his soaking wet t-shirt.

"Maggots?" Nadine peers over again at the jacket. And sure enough, rolly poley maggots stream all over the jacket, covorting with the feathers. Ew! That is pretty nasty after all. Her lips curl a faint grimace. "Well that's pretty freaky." That's what Trace wanted to hear right? That it was fucked? She digs one of her cigarettes out of the package. Might as well join TooFar and have a smoke. "Well if you ever see the guy again," this portion seems addressed to TF, "Let me know. I'd be curious who the hell it was. Cause well..that's pretty fucked." See, there it is again. Trace, you are right...this is just twisted.

It's drizzling again. It's cold. It's the middle of the night. TooFar's only comfort is slowly killing him. Wo-ho actually seems properly gothic for a change, wet and miserable. He blows into his hands to try and warm them, then tries to numb them again with more nicotine. He almost resents Trace's cheerful energy. You can tell that by how he looks at the bluecap, like he was causing a headache or something.

As the chill sets in, Nadine zipped up her sweatshirt. Ain't much body fat on this chica, got to keep herself warm however she can. Can't depend on that blubber. It's evaded her and gone on vacation. Bitchy fat. Smoke pulls in and out of her lips - blow job eh? Ohhhhhhhh Nadine, such a dirty birdy. Oh wait..the dirtiest birdy in the area is TooFar's jacket right now. HA! "So like, uhh, what's going over there." Cue the mandatory thumb hook over towards the castle.

"I don't think Star's enjoyin' it," mutters TooFar in dark tones, around an exhale of spent nicotine. He's not pleased at all, glancing over in the indicated direction. Doesn't do anything though, just stands there by the playground, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Yes, it's raining. Typical. And it's cold. Not typical! Neat, kinda, coz man, it was getting real hot there 'round August and September, ninety degrees every day and shit. So this is nice, Trace isn't sweating himself soaking, and he's getting a free (badly needed?) shower, and things aren't so bad. Things not being so bad is grounds for Trace to be cheerful, even if Nadine refused to respond to his story properly. That's okay. You know, this has gotten Trace in trouble before... Nawlins teems with goths and pained, bitter, angry youths who've been made to see and eat and sleep in and breath way too much shit for their few tender years walking around upright. But Trace remains oblivious to TooFar's look. Everyone's got a defensive mechanism. Maybe that's how he keeps his nature, smiling by default. Evade, evade, evade... Something troubling's going on under the castle? TooFar's not happy with him? Well, flash a neon sign, coz otherwise Trace isn't picking up on it.

Well just chalk Nadine up to being one of those curious caustic creatures roaming the streets of New Orleans. It's in her to be nice. Those around her most of the time get to see it and experience the profit of her kind ministrations. But often, she just doesn't bother. When the world shits on you, you don't just go and make lemonade. You shit right back on it, trading feces for feces. A smidgeon of her good mood gone, perhaps thanks to the little tale she was privy to listening to, she casts another glance over to the imfamous castle. "So who's the guy he's in there with?" Cause like Nadey doesn't know him. Just what Star needs right now is another person pushing him around. Kids been having a rough time of things lately.

"Don't know," TooFar mutters again, flicking some ash into a puddle, "Friend of his." That is, friend of bluecap over there. No motion from notfeatherclad here. Just whatever it takes to smoke this here cigarette. "Star don't seem too fond of him." Just the facts, ma'am.

"Really good friend," Trace agrees somewhat defensively. Geez, people. Talking like Jason's a Bad Guy. He's no villain; he helped vanquish the Monster of the Bushes, and besides that, he's got half my heart. He's quiet a moment, shifts his weight to the other foot as he glances out towards the castle very briefly. "Jason wouldn't do nothin'. Look, don't worry. I mean, Jason's a best friend'a mine. We live together." He shrugs, then smiles over at TooFar. "He's cool. You'll see." Just maybe not tonight, because Jason's been in an odd mood these past few days. Then agaaaain... TooFar was a lot more upbeat last time they met too. Maybe there's some crazy moon out tonight that's mucking with people's good spirits and drawing monsters to the playground.

Good boy eh? Well Nadine will have to see this for herself. Witness and just for thyself. A shrug aligns with her shoulders, birthing. "Well, alright, if you say so." Still, she glances back to the castle, peering through the darkness enveloping the boy-pair. What the hell are they talking about? Didn't Jason say it would just be a 'sec'? This is the longest second in history. Whatever. Star's probably alright. Let's consult the oracle of the cigarette and see what it has to reveal. Lips tickle the cancer stick, drawing forth the needed knowledge along with a nice little side dish of nicotine.

"Can't hear nuttin' through this damn rain," proclaims TooFar, irritably, flicking the used butt into a puddle and replacing it with his ear's cigstash. "Dark don't help neither. They could be fuckin' each other fer all I can tell." This new cigarette is lit, lighter's glow killing the delicate ability to see in the low light for a couple minutes.

Trace's brows really lift at that, gaze swinging back, but then he laughs and announces amusedly, "No way, man. Sides, Star's straight, y'know? That boy's got *two* chicks, lucky bastard. Well, I dunno about the other, but she gave him hickies once. They were all over, but I didn't say nothin'." He giggles, but there's a fondness to it too.

And them fucking one another would be bad...why? Cause uhh, they aren't getting to watch maybe? That could be it. Don't bring something to a party if you aren't going to bring enough for everyone. Isn't the rule?? So don't be bring sex to a little gathering if you aren't going to offer it up to everyone. Okay, that's some fucked up logic there. Spit forth, Nadine's cigarette tumbles to the ground, sizzling out as lands in a moisture patch of grass. And what is this? Nadine just sort of looks at Trace. Star has 2 chicks? Ummmmm, okay. Lips press together. Bite your tongue Nadine.

TooFar slicks his hair back, rain-damp causing it to stick to his head like it was greased or something. Scratching his neck, he peers through the dizzling darkness at the castle again, "I'm gonna give 'em 'nother minute, then I'm gonna go over there an' knock onna door. I ain' leavin' without Star, an' I'm gettin' pretty sick a' standin' here in the rain waitin' fer 'im." And I have to get my jacket cleaned. And buy more cigarettes. And kick something.

Trace shakes his head, blue braids swaying damp and heavy alongside his cheeks. "No... Star ain't leavin' when they're done, coz I was gonna talk to him next." Hackey-sack Star, remember? We pass him back in forth, so get in the circle and wait, bub. "If you like, you could jest go on home when you like, an' I'll walk him home so he's safe, if that's yer worry." There doesn't seem to be compromise in this. He's been waiting too, and since before TooFar even arrived on the playground.

Well the boys aren't the only ones getting soppy right now. Nadine's here too. A foot shuffles back and forth idly about the damp grass underfoot. "Well, uhhhh..." She looks to TooFar, "We could like go somewhere. I'm sure he'll be alright. I mean Trace is here and all." See. Trace is Star's buddy. He won't let anything happen to the kid. "It is awfully wet." Sniff, sniff. Just look at her. The blue spikes atop her head are becoming limp, loosing their erect state.

TooFar's head twists over to focus his expression on Trace. Maybe I'll kick you. No, can't do that. Trace hasn't done anything. Sigh. "Well, if I hurry 'em up, sooner you'll be talkin' to him too, right?" Maybe the nonfeatherclad's good mood is somehow tied to his jacket. Wouldn't that be an interesting thing to investigate? Pity this wet, dirty, long-haired reddishblond waif creature is about as threatening as a stray kitten. Or bird. Insert the harmless animal of your choice here. Instead he just looks grumpy. This grumpy expression he turns on Nadine, blinking at her. Looks like he thinks Trace is about as dependable and observant as Columbo after a half ounce of hydro and a quart of bourbon. Something like that. "Are you sure?" he asks, hesitant, unsure that he really should be leaving without checking on Star first. The kid seemed pretty unhappy, last check.

Well there is one way to find out. Nadine's voice raises, coming in a nice LOUD yell. "Star! You need TooFar and I to stick around for anything?" When in doubt ask the boy yourself. She peers over at the shadowed caressed castle waiting on a response if one if forthcoming at all. Hey Star! You in there! Yell back or something. Nadey is getting all wet and not in a good way!

And Trace could say that TooFar seemed pretty unhappy last check, but there's been no check yet. So.. here it comes. First check. Yep. Unhappy. Hmm. The blue-haired boy cants his head to one side very slightly, regarding the boy. "So," he wonders quietly, "You staying at Grace's place?" Hey, isn't that grounds to be fantastically happy? And he kinda slips up, calling it 'Grace's place', since it's Jill's, duh. But he doesn't even catch himself to correct it. "You guys seemed like friends on the street the other day." Trace is masterfully observant, as you can see.

"Yeah," is TooFar terse reply, "I'm stayin' at Gracie's." This latest of cigarettes is pinched off and flicked into the same puddle as it's predecessor. Now he's studying his poor jacket in a forelorn manner. Lying there in the rain and grass with trace amounts of maggots still visible, it looks like some large dead bird that had been flattened by an elephant doing a softshoe. Damnit. "Know any good laundramats, man?"

Starlight comes out from under the castle, alone. He looks a little weird, um, not scared but distracted, seriously. He sloshes over toward the three of you, and on the way he gets himself a ciggie. Been awhile, a long while, since this little guy had a smoke. Sucks to fiend. His eyes, dark, snap from one of you to the other, but finally land on Trace. He tries a little smile that never quite reaches his eyes and nods. "Um, okay. You wanna talk?"

Fuck. Damn you Star. Nadine looks about ready to bellow out another call to the PYT when he appears. Thank the gods. A look immediately shoots to TooFar. Dad, can we go now? The pre-emptive walking cigarette is withdrawn and slid between Nadine's lips. She's going to need some energy for the impending walk. Cause they are leaving right? Beating feet and scedaddling away so that Trace and Star can chat?

The blue-haired boy flinches a little at the sharpness in TooFar's words. Sucks to open up a little and try to be epathic about people's moods, because that's what you get. You slam against Acme Streetrat Armor. Relief floods Trace's expression as Starlight emerges from the castle. Because irrevocably sullen people are to be avoided, he's found. "Just down Chart, yeah," tossed over his shoulder, but he's already turned away, striding towards the younger boy. Evade, evade... "Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah, s'been too long. We could go in the fort? S'dry there. I'll give you the mattress."

With the return of Starboi, TooFar intently studies the guy for signs of... anything, really. But there's nothing he can do. He's nobody's hero and Star certainly isn't asking for rescuing from... well, TooFar can't tell. Fuck fuck fuck. Where's Jason? TooFar needs to glare at him in a manner that may, hopefully, in the right light, be intimidating. Instead, he takes a deep breath and uses a stick to pick up his jacket. He doesn't want to touch it with bare skin. Screw it, "Naddy, let's go. I need somethin' t'drink." Fuck, useless me. "An' t'pick up some smokes."

Starlight steps right up to Trace and nods at the older. "Um, okay." Tilts a little to look over at Nadey and TooFar and offers them a small smile. He's still distracted, for sure, and maybe a little more sober than even before he entered the castle, if that's possible. Kid looks back over his shoulder, to said castle, and then to Trace again. "Um," he licks his lips, nods and takes another drag. Jason really has, ya know, a lot of power in this little boy's life, it would appear. Kiddy is more afraid of that one, than just about anyone else. Yay, they can go. But not yet. Nadine has one more thing to do. She looks to the little scared streetrat that is Star. "You gonna be alright?" Cause like she should know this so that after she walks away there is no time spent worrying about little Star. "And later, we'll do your lip." The thing they've only been trying to do for a few days now, but shit keeps popping up and stopping them. Talk about bum luck.

Star's lip. My god, that's right. "Can I come with you, for that, if I'm around...?" Trace asks softly, with a slightly apologetic look to Star.

Starlight looks over to Nadine as she speaks to him and nods. "I'm okay," he says, quietly. Of course, like, Trace is one of Star's really good friends, so he's cool right now. And a tiny smile for the woman upon mention of his lip. "Yeah, tomorrow maybe?" He wants that done and yes, it's been awhile that they've had it planned, but, ya know, shit comes up and stuff. To Trace the littlest nods and smiles again. "Um, yeah, that'd be cool if you came." Sure, come and see Nadey poke Star's lip and see if he's all man.

TooFar, his jacket held at arm's length, simply nods a sullen farewell at those remaining and starts out of the playground. This is not the cheerful perkifeathergoth. This is the Ineedtohitsomething angrynofeathergoth. But he can't hit anyone. He can't actually be certain anything happened anyway. Goddamnit. "Let's go, Nadine," he mutters in a grumble that might sound more... oh, dark, if he had a voice that was remotely deep, instead of being that androgenous alto.

Yeah...time to go. Another little quirk of the lips forms a slight smile all for Star. "Yeah, tomorrow. I'll be looking for ya and stuff." Her chin crooks backwards, "Later Trace. Come on down with Star and we can talk about your nape piercing too...k?" She's so accomodating. "Okay, let's go." Cause now Nadine is officially ready. She makes sure to stand to the side of Toofar that is furtherest from his damn jacket. Who wants a maggot flying on them in midstride? Certainly not Nadine. She might be a skanky, little grubby woman at times..but still..Ew!

Alisynde doesn't see the rather large knot of people at first, for her eyes are cast downwards, looking at the ground. It's only when she moves her head up that she sees that the playground is quite full. And, not unpredicatably, she blinks.

The group is thinning, TooFar is already on his way out. Any greetings for him are met with a curt grunt. He doesn't seem in a good mood...
TooFar heads back to Lelong Avenue.

Trace looks after the retreating nofeather boy. Finally he pushes past his pursed lips a quiet, "G'bye... Hope yer jacket comes clean." Can't help being nice. He's too open, or stupid, or naive or whatever you wanna call it to take up Nadine's theory about the world's feces. Likes this kid, y'lnow? But honestly likes him a bit more out of the rain and with those strange mood-altering feathers. Ah well. A smile to Nadine. "That'd be cool, Nadine. I'll see you round, okay?" And then his attention's back on Star. "Let's go. I'm tired of the rain."

Nadine heads back to Lelong Avenue.

TooFar pages you, Nadine and Starlight: Most fun, but I need to get going. I actually work tomorrow, and need to get up bright and early.

Alisynde ahs. Everyone's leaving. This is good, perhaps. Ali can be alone, with her thoughts. Although.. "Hey Trace, Jason..." And a nod for Star, who's name she never, ever seems to remember.

Starlight nods and starts walking toward the bushes. Being out in the rain is okay, for like, a little while, but all night? It gets annoying. So he seems eager to get under the protection of Trace's little haven. He doesn't even pause, until right at the edge of grass and bush, then turns and peers toward the voice. "Blue?" he says, quietly, but with some urgency. His eyes flicker over toward the castle, where Jason remains, unseen, and then to Ali. Licks at his lips, and offers a small smile, then looks at Trace again.

Trace turns as he hears Ali's call, but he's got somewhere he's headed. "Hi Ali!" he greets amiably enough, only slightly dulled by the rotten moods that have been thrown his way this night. "I got some stuff t'do, but I'll prolly be out later..." Okay, so it's probably going to be much later, but even so. "Jason's in the castle." Whoops, sorry Jason, maybe you'll have to deal with some more humanity after all. Then he turns again, calling over his shoulder, "See ya round!" And it's into the bushes he goes, crawling on hands and knees despite the damp grass. Not like his jeans can get any wetter.

Alisynde settles onto a swing seat, wrapping her hands around the slick, wet chains. Don't sweat it, Trace. I was just gonna sit and get wet. Think or somethin. Have fun." She blinks, and glances over at the castle. "He is? Oh. 'K." To the castle, "Hi, Jason. Don't worry 'bout comin out and gettin' wet. Or if y'want me t'scram, I will."

Starlight gets down and follows after Trace, offering no words as he moves. He does, however, glance back toward the castle, through the bushes, but doesn't really pause. He too pays no mind to the fact that he's getting even dirtier than he was.

Getting down on hands and knees, you crawl into a clutch of thick bushes.

Fort
This small area has been created using pieces of wood and plastic garbage bags, even a few large boxes. All and all it's a nice little secluded spot where it seems someone is staying on a regular basis. There's a single mattress set against the far 'wall', that looks to have seen better days. It's stained and has a few ratty old blankets thrown atop it, as well as an old pillow.

Artwork is strewn EVERYWHERE: on the back of old flyers, scribbled on napkins, and even the occasional sketch done on actual drawing paper. Tacked to the wood, littering the floor, it's hard to avoid. Other strange objects are scattered about the dirt floor here; a pair of bent, blackened spoons, a small bottle of bleach, and some pieces of dirty, brown-crusted tin foil.

This little hidey-hole isn't a place where grown-ups can fit very well. Looks like it was made for shorter people. Unless you value art or need to bleach some socks, there's really nothing out in the open that anyone would miss should someone wish to take it.

Trace clambers into the little hidden home and immediately crawls for the mattress. But oh, wait. That's right. He's giving the mattress to you. Well, he amends his promise and scoots way over, obviously making all this space for you, since there is plenty of room. This place is kind of amazing when it's raining. Despite the shoddy looks, it's ingeniously built, really, the plastic trash bags tacked over and beneath the wood in a fashion that prevents minimal leaks. It rains a *lot* in New Orleans, and yet, this artwork all over the place has stayed relatively dry. There's a leak in one corner, opposite the mattress, which makes a little puddle on that end, with a ditch perhaps Trace has dug, like a ravine scratched out into the earth so the water runs outside without touching his art. For the most part it's remarkably dry.

From outside in the playground, There's no movement in the castle. In fact, there hasn't been since everyone was saying their g'byes. Well, actually, it's practically impossible to see under the thing in this darkness, but, well, it's silent too. Maybe Jason's not actually /under/ there.

Starlight follows you in and peers around. Yeah, he's been here before and remembers, well, the time the two of you shared. Well, judging by his expression. He shivers a little, for despite the fact that the rain isn't hitting him anymore, he's still got the air splashing against his exposed skin which causes a chill. Little boy scoots over to the mattress and sits himself down, because yes, you did promise him he could, then looks at you, concerned. It's not the same as it used to be, it would seem. He's got something strange flashing in his eyes, like, hmm, like he's jumping from thought to thought, or like he's finding it hard to really grasp anything. Everything's melting, ya know? Pretty licks at his lips and pushes some of his wet hair back and tugs his knees up to his chest. "How have you been?" comes out, real quietly. He cares.

From outside in the playground, Alisynde seems unfazed by the silence, the lack of movement. If Jason is there, obviously he'd rather not come out and talk - which is fine, as Ali doesn't particularly want to talk. She wants to rock back and forth and get wet, apparently. If Jason isn't there, then, well, that's fine as well. Ali simply continues to rock back and forth, the side of her head pressed up against the cool chain, her gaze staring at nothing at all.

From outside in the playground, People knock darkness and rain all the time. 'Let's light a fire' they say. 'Let's go inside' they say. But it's useful for other things. Like, oh, sneakin'. Cos no one's out watching and even if they were, it'd be hard to see stuff. Especially small, sneaky stuff. Like a shadow that lopes across the grass and disappears silently into the bushes.

From outside in the playground, Alisynde sighs, long and low, and mutters, "Damnit. I hate feeling like this."

"Mmm," Trace chuckles a little and leans back, propped up on one elbow on his side. "Better. I was goin' through a tough spot, y'know? Fightin' with my family. So I couldn't really go home. And not bein' home made me a fuckin' junked up, mopey wreck. But, um." He shrugs lightly, pulls in a breath. "But it's workin' out again, mostly. I'm home again, Bat's home, an' we're gonna get ready fer his birthday and Christmas. So. Things is feelin' like a family again. So now you get your question back, coz I been thinkin' bout ya." He reaches out tentatively, shyly, because it's been a long time since he's even seen you, let alone been close to you. Little colorful fingers, stained with magic marker from the looks of it, reach out to brush away a wet strand of black hair from your brow. "Never see ya hardly. So I been wonderin' how ya been. How things is workin' out at Gideon's place, an' if ya been happy..."

He hasn't done this in too long. Weeks, probably. But that whole incident with the feral kid reminded him of something and, well, now's as good a time as any to remember things. His movement through the bushes is practically silent, with slow, deliberate steps. All senses are attuned to their maxes: ears picking out the smallest sounds of the life about him; touch sensations picking up the lightest brushes of cobwebs and raindrops against his face; nose finding all the scents of the fresh rain - musky earth, heavy air, and... that vile, maggotty vomit. His nose wrinkles in distaste, but he can tune that part out a little... even though he knows what the boy was eating now, and it's just gross. But he's headed somewhere, so he's not gonna investigate the nest that little wretch was making. Towards the fort sure feet take him until, with just a rustle of leaves, he's beneath the small 'window'. Inside, the two boys talk, unaware of the bright green eyes that gleam in the moonlight and the sensitive ears pricked at their conversation.

Star listens as you speak and hell, he even smiles. He likes to hear that you're happy, he always has. And with the family, ya know. I mean, that's so important. He reaches into his flannel pocket and pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, then shrugs up his shoulders. "Um, I been good, ya know and," and then he pauses, looking up at you. Confused. How do you know about Gideon? "Um," he shakes his head and frowns just slightly. Oh, wait. It's coming to him. He sniffs and looks down, hair falling away to conceal part of his expression. And he's silent, just playing with the flip-top to his pack. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Just thinking, ya know? Finally after what seems to be forever, he lifts his chin and looks back to your face. It's like, if he says one single word he's gonna, I dunno, break down. So, sorry, you get nothing. Deep, fortifying breath and a smile, meant to pacify, perhaps, and he goes about lighting up. Needs drugs, perhaps, but Nico will hafta suffice. The cherry brightens as baby sucks, then dims and before too long the little room is filled with smoke. It's just his way, ya know. Like before. Trembling, his attention slides to the door, where the two of you entered. Another drag-- calming? And another. He doesn't want you to talk, not yet, just sit there and wait for him. Quick through the veins to relax, slightly, enough to carry on, but quiet. "Things have been strange, but I've been dealing," he manages, slowly. Carefully. "It's like, um, you think something is gonna go one way and then it kind of turns and goes the other, but," wets his lips and takes another drag, finishes while exhaling "I guess it all could be worse. I mean, I have friends and my family now and Gideon and, so, it's okay, Blue." He swallows and returns his attention to your face. Searching.

Trace nods, listening quietly and intently to what few words are imparted, watching the boy's face. He lets the arm supporting him fall flat on the mattress and rests his cheek on his arm instead, more laying down than sitting up. He watches the cherry flare, light you up with soft gold angles and shadows briefly before falling back to pale blues and purple-greys and black. Dark, gentle night colors. Trace sees the whole world in colors, sometimes, in shapes and non-existant brush strokes. "Gid seemed... kinda nice in the restaurant," he says softly. Well, sorta nice. Except for what he said about dreams. "You seem to really care 'bout him." Jason's probably being disappointed right now. No hushed secrets to impart to the younger boy, nothing 'juicy'... Just missed him. Needed some quiet talk, and to see how his pretty friend was getting along during these hectic weeks that had kept them apart.

Oh, phah on that. The point is, he's hearing what you people wanted to be /seeeekrit/. Keeping secrets from Jason is infuriating, you know. Friends should share everything! Unless it's Jason being asked to share. Then we can bend the rules a little. Or a lot. Anyhow. The wonderful thing about this is he gets to watch something that isn't... knowingly around Jason. I mean, he knows he has an affect on people, one way or another. Most dramatically on Star, but, yeah, to a lesser extent Trace. At least, this is how Jason sees it. Silent feet carry him in a slow stalk around the outside of the fort, even despite the soft to muddy ground. Bright eyes flash from the darkness as he reaches the 'door,' freezing in place for a moment, and then, still without a sound, a shape darts across the doorway, moonlight glinting off of red and white just for an instant. Somewhere off in the brush, something gets startled and there's a snapping of branches and rustle of leaves as it scurries off deeper into the bushes.

Starlight watches you as you move down, as you relax some, and he takes another drag, then shifts his attention to the door. More talk of Gideon, hmm? Touchy subject with this little boy, ya know? The way he's acting, kind of jumpy, without actually jumping? Make sense? Anyway, he shrugs up his shoulders and nods, "Yeah, he's," he clears his throat "very nice to me." Brows hike up and he swallows, then licks at his lips. "He's, um, been sick, but he's getting better. He, he's been working on some music, um," a pause. Christ. This child doesn't seem to /want/ to talk about this but he just keeps going and going. "He hasta, um, get some stuff to his producer in not too long, I guess they don't care that Erick is gone. Um, they're gonna be making a movie about Erick," he looks down at you and seems to be relaxing some as he pulls the topic further and further from himself. "And I guess Gid hasta go check out the actor who'll be playing Erick. Which is cool, I guess, that he's gonna have a hand in that. He was kind of messed up after he died." He he he. Hope Blue can keep up. Another drag and then he lifts his hand, pushing back some of his hair again. Just keeps annoying him. Should get a tie or something. Animals come and go but this little guy is on edge, so the movement is cause for alarm. He sits up a little more and takes in his breath, audible.

"S'jest a mouse 'r somethin'," Trace dismisses the sound. "Once I woke up, and there was a mole scurryin' long the ground, with his little star nose sniffin'..." He giggles at the memory. His free hand, the one not pinned by his cheek, reaches up to tug you down. "Relax. S'a safe place." It is, you know. Even monsters can't get in here, though they might prowl about in those *other* bushes, or even sneak up to sully the roof of his fine castle. Here's entirely sacred. Only he and his closest friends are allowed. Well, and that mole.

[OOC awkwardness and misunderstanding requires that most of these two poses be snipped. Bleh.]

Let's change topics, shall we? "Um, how is Walker?� Star wonders. �Is he doing okay? I haven't seen him since the party, he's been busy I guess?"

"He's been on vacation," Trace grins. "This past weekend, anyway. He's marryin' Ben! It's really sweet. They're gonna have a ceremony an' everythin'. Not like it'll be legal, but that's so stupid, I mean who cares, y'know...?" Well, hmm. Who cares. Lotsa people, he realizes after a moment. A little laugh, and he looks over and says, "In my home town, you'd pretty much getchya ass kicked fer talkin' like that. Guess my mind's changed on lotsa things. But I think it's neat, anyway. M'glad fer 'em."

Okay, /now/ things might get a little disappointing. Star just successfully deflected a topic (whatever it was) and, unless Trace is keen to such things, this'll degenerate into a banal and completely uninteresting conversation about the weather or something equally stupid. You both hear something scrape against the plywood wall, just behind where Star sits. But whatever it was doesn't make any further noise - it's just crickets and frogs out there, enjoying the rain.

Starlight turns onto his back, knees bent, and looks up at the ceiling. Takes another drag and shakes his head. "I dunno, um, so how is yer mural going? You guys been working on it at all, lately?" Yep. Kid is a pro, Jason's right. Conversations usually go where he wants them to, cept with the firey redhead. But, seriously, Star actually sounds interested in Blue's art. "You ever call that guy who I gave you his number?" Get that?

"No, I didn't call him..." Trace admits with a disappointed sigh. "I meant to. An' I was gonna, but all this stuff happened, and then I finally washed my jeans like for the first time in forever, and I left the thingie in my pocket and the number got smudged. I was gonna ask you, but didn't see you too much." He bites his lip. "And, um. The mural. Well.... We haven't been too good about it lately, really. I mean. I mean, we totally shoulda. Coulda had it done ages an' ages ago. But we're all so... comfortable with how things is now. Neat as thinkin' bout the apartment is, I think we all really like it at Walker's place. And sometimes when we're all together, and it'd be a good time, we all just get into doin' other stuff, y'know? Jest lazy, I guess. Plus, I mean." He curls up a little more, pulling his knees up a little closer to his chest. "Kick date's set fer after we finish the mural. Then it's total dry out, and so that scares me too. Really scares me." Really, really. Transparant kid. "But I don't talk about that to them. I'm so scared to just disappoint everybody. But it's not mostly that, y'know? It's not. It's more... It.. it's not just me. We *all* been lazy about the mural."

Yeah, but Jason knew Trace wasn't pushing as hard as he coulda been for its completion, and he knew exactly why that might be. Did he bring it up once to Trace or was he just thinking it? Can always put stuff 'after the mural' when there IS no 'after.' God, should just... make 'em do it and then leave no excuses. And then we'll see how strong this triangle is. Not that Jason's been doing much to strengthen it lately... But this sudden, restless energy forces him up off his ass. There's more rustling, this time really close to the fort, then a snap of a twig and things go quiet again. Y'know, that thing that ran earlier might still be around. Hmm...

Starlight stares at you as you go off about the mural. Jesus. Blink. He nods and takes the last of his smoke, then crushes it out on the floor and exhales toward the door. "Well, I guess, ya just gotta remember what I said. Cause, ya know, if people're yer friends, then, ya know, they'll help you and stuff, and, I know Jason and Bat are yer friends, and like I said before, ya know, it'll all work out because friends stick together." He wets his lips again and lets out a sigh. Friends. Yeah. They're cool.

"Yeah.... yeah, I know," Trace nods after a hesitation. "But..." He smiles up at you. "I still really appreciate what you said, y'know? I mean. I mean, I'm almost sure it won't come to that. But... but it's just really good to know that stuff doesn't matter to some people. It jest, it meant a lot to me." He slips a hand over the younger boy's smaller one and squeezes once, gently.

/Now/ there's the first obvious sound that there's something out there. A soft growl from... something canine. Probably. Small, though. Maybe it matters to some people because people keep /dying/ on them and they'd like that not to happen again with certain blue-capped artists. Not that the junkie would listen to such reasoning. If he hears 'yeah, but I got it under control' from /anyone/ ONE MORE TIME... Someone's getting their throat torn out. /He's/ the only one with it under control. So under control that he slips off through the bushes. He knows it's still around here somewhere... quivering in frozen fear at his scent...

Starlight's eyes find you and he shrugs up his shoulders, then straightens his legs out, pushing into the dirt floor. He doesn't really react to your hand, I mean, he doesn't pull away or anything-- seems comfortable with you. "I just say what I mean, Blue, and, ya know, you help me out a lot and I guess, I just hope that everything works out for ya, ya know?" He looks over toward the door and sits up a little, as if trying to see out. "How long have ya been in this city, anyway?" Relaxes some and puts his hand over his pack, idly fidgeting with it. Just something to do, really. A frown and the child looks toward the door again. Not the little StinkyButt again?

Color-stained fingers inspect bumpy white knuckles and flat, soft planes, little textured fingerpads. Absent exploration. "S'been two n'a half years now," he says softly. "Or roundabout. 'Fore that I lived in Baton Rouge fer a month. All my life 'fore that's been in Jarreau. It was this poor little town hangin' on the skirts 'a Baton Rouge, out in the swamp." He looks up through a couple of braids that have fallen down. "You?" Starlight lifts his other hand and wipes some hair out of his face, then shrugs one shoulder. "I been here for about, um, six months. Before that I was," and a pause, "I was with my, um, I was," he shakes his head. Why did he ask if he didn't want to answer. Just follows suit, ya know? You ask how someone is, they ask how you are. You ask how long they been around, they ask how long you been around. Stupid kid. "Just lived with some people and now I, well, I came here to stay with my uncle, but he's a fuck so I just stay with Gid." There. Simple as that.

Naturally, he'd choose /this/ time to slip off, when things got interesting again. But something primal grabbed him and it was rather hard to ignore. Pent-up frustration and anger kinda all bubbled to the surface at once and all demanded one thing. There's silence out in the bushes for long moments after Trace's question... but then there's another loud rustling. It's not quite like the ones the feral kid made. No, it's smaller, but moves faster. Even with human ears, you can hear the rustling move back and forth, zig-zagging as it goes away at first, and then, like an arrow, comes charging through the bushes right at the fort. Not more then ten feet away, the sounds suddenly stop. And then start again, though stationary and much more violent - a thrashing amongst the leaves and sticks, completely abandoning any attempts at stealth. It's a raw, unfiltered sound, nature happening right outside your door. The crashing ends abruptly, with just a soft, low growl.... And then there's the most unearthly scream you have ever heard, ringing through the entire park. It's like a baby or something, but... worse. Much worse. A sound that'd send chills up your spine even if you did know what it was. It lingers for an indescribably long moment, but then dies off in a tinysoft snap-gurgle. Ha. Take /that/, frustrations!

You'd probably get the feeling that Trace would tell you just about anything. All lined up for you to see. Open skies, blue and clear, with no clouds to hide anything in his expression. Trace is typically very unguarded for a boy in his position, but times like this, 'transparant' doesn't even cut it. Perfect diamond clear. Exquisite trust. "Them 'people' gave ya a rough time back home, eh?" he says softly, and it's not really a question meant to be answered. "Mine too." Hell, all of us, y'know? The heartless slimes that bore our sweet Batiste. Gracie's folks. Everybody. With perhaps the sole exception of Jason, whose mom read him poetry. Go fig, y'know? But we all make exceptions for the little redheaded enigma. Trace opens his mouth to speak again, but this time the rustlings outside can't just be written off. What the fuck? He's used to rustlings, but *that*... That was just plain eerie. He flashes Star an anxious look, hand instantly tightening it's grip without thought. Safe place. This is a safe place. "Somethin' got kilt,' he observes hushedly.

Starlight shrugs up his shoulders as Trace speaks, then sighs and looks down. "Um, it was okay," the boy lies. It's not as if he /wants/ to lie, it's just, why make you worry or like, make you feel sorry for him, ya know? Hrm. Yes, that did sound eerie. Child darts his attention to the door, and then straight back to you. What the fuck? Looks a little confused, even, and somewhat, uh, scared? That sounded /weird/. Swallows and chews on the inside of his cheek. Your words offer some help, but not a lot. He's still pretty jumpy. "Maybe, um, we should go get Jason and make sure he's okay? I mean, he was out there, ya know?" Definately concerned for the boy who scares him to death.

Well, it /probably/ wasn't Jason being kilt. He'd make less noise. There's some silence, and then more rustlings in the bushes as that something's dragged off. And then silence again. Not even the crickets have started up again yet.

"Mm-hmm," Trace murmurs softly, to your untruthful 'it's okay', and his tone, while disbelieving, is also not judging. As explained, it wasn't a question meant to be answered. So your answer is rejected, because he understands it's not something you care to talk about. Or even CAN talk about. But anyway, this freaky noise. "Jason...?" He sits up and peers out towards the entrance. "Naw, I mean, it didn't sound like no wolves out there or nothin', y'know? S'jest. Stuff. A cat or something." He shrugs tensely. "Sides, Jason prolly went home. Not like he's jest gonna sit around in some castle f'nothin'." He looks over at you, still somewhat pensive, and asks, "You two got along okay, right? The others was worryin' he was bein' mean." This last said just slightly dubious, of course.

Star keeps his eyes on the opening now, ya know, just to make sure nothing is coming? Careful and cautious is the name of the game tonight. He nods as you say Jason's name, because, yes, that's who he was talking about and then frowns and tears his gaze from the entrance to your face. "What? Who?" How can you confuse him so much when he just knew who you were talking about? Inconceivable. "You mean me and Jason?" A little tilt of his head and he shrugs, "Who was worried?" Time for a smoke. He pulls his hand from you, gently, and grabs up his pack. Flips open the top and gets himself a ciggie. Goes about lighting up and exhales toward the door. Who in the world would worry about Star and Jason?

It's a shame that Star looked away, cause right when he does, that pair of glowing green eyes flashes in the moonlit darkness just outside the door. But then they're gone again in a blur of gleaming red fur and... metallic silver? He's still lurking outside.

"I mean, I tole' em there was nothing t'worry 'bout," Trace explains, pulling his position crosslegged on the mattress. "But, I mean, they were. TooFar and Nadine, 'course. Mostly TooFar." Trace wasn't that worried. Just confused at the other two being concerned about Star's well-being. After all, it was just *Jason*. It's not like he's some buff, intimidating guy. Trace has even, on very rare occasion, bested the Tickle-Mastah in wrestling ticklefest games, and Trace just is the total opposite of strong and intimidating. He sighs and shrugs, "I was jest makin' sure things went friendly, s'all. I seen how he bosses you sometime. It's kinda weird."

[Time passes off-camera. Star finds a reason to leave, and Trace is left alone in the fort with his thoughts. Or so he assumes..]

Silence. Crickets are back. Trace just lays there for awhile on the mattress, hands cupped behind his blue braids, letting his mind drift. Monsters to murals to things that go shriek in the night. He sighs softly and pushes himself up, lifting eyes to the dim shadows of artwork clinging and sometimes fluttering gently, tacked to the inside of the fort. Memories and nightmares and fond fancies taking shelter here alongside him. He tugs up the left leg of his jeans and tugs free the tournequet and loaded spike. And just... looks at it for a moment. A sigh. Fuck you, junk creature. Not now. Both are tossed to the end of the mattress, out of reach for now, and he sprawls back and stares up at the ceiling. It's nice out. He's enjoying this chill on his skin, fresh and new. New Orleans is not often that cold. He doesn't want to lose the feeling. He doesn't want to lose the sharpness of his memories of todays monsters in his mind. Doesn't want to lose the cry of the 'kilt' animal that ran his blood cold a moment, and sped his heart. So he sits, and he holds onto these things, wraps hands around them tight, even as he settles back into the lumpy old pillow.

It's a good thing you tossed those things away. Because you had your audience back. Only this time it's much, much closer. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see them watching you, those brilliant green eyes, moonlight skittering off of them. He sits on his haunches in the doorway of your little hovel, a young red fox. Adolescent at best, small, lanky, but a fox nonetheless. The bushy tail curls about the forepaws, the patch of white fur at its tip twitching. Calm, quiet, inquisitive even, he watches you, lazily licking the blood from his snout with that long tongue. More blood spatters its otherwise gleaming white-furred chest, but he doesn't seem to care. He's not satisfied about it either. He just is. Sitting there, watching you. Who knows? Perhaps it's just another fond fancy.

It very well could be. Trace sometimes gets this odd urge to draw foxes. He'll draw, like, ten of them in a single week, and that week's over, and he'll look back and wonder what possessed him. Maybe he's about to get another one of those, because here he is having visions of one. No... He *just* laid down. The pillow is very real beneath his little blue-capped head. Dream pillows aren't this lumpy. He doesn't move a muscle, and just watches, transfixed. He's *never* seen a fox up close. Never. (Has a bizarre, instinctual urge to reach for it's tail, but that's just nuts.) Wide hazel eyes watch with awe as the silvery-pink tongue flickers over his slender maw. This is ten times cooler then the mole. This is magic. "Hi..." he whispers, lips barely stirring.

Probably never seen a real live one cause, well, /are/ there foxes in Lousiana? Not likely. Definitely not red ones. Nor one this... used to humans? He doesn't do that skittish half-jump thing wild animals usually do when human eyes find them. Instead, those bright eyes meet yours and capture them, tongue still sliding up and down his lean snout. His head cocks a little to one side in a familiar gesture at the sound of your voice, tall, dark ears pricking up. If a fox could seem amused... Funny that the needle's forgotten in the magic, just like the magic's forgotten in the needle. But, his impromptu bath completed, it's time this moment of magic ended. No sense giving away too much at once... Jaws part in a pant that seems remarkably like a vulpine grin and then he's suddenly on all four feet again and turning smoothly, and then vanishing into the night-clad foliage with only the barest of rustlings. As he turns though, you do catch the glint of something metal about it's left hindpaw, though just what is indeterminable.

Definitely not green-eyed ones either! Foxes have amber eyes. Beautiful, but just amber nonetheless. And Trace knows this. It doesn't, however, occur to him until after the fox is loping away, and he has to think back. They *were* green, right? He didn't imagine that... And when you get to that point, wondering if it was real, it's easy to say it isn't. But no matter the eye color, it was indeed a precious moment. Trace sits up as it starts off, and then scrambles through the brush and peeks out into the dark lawn of the playground, hoping for a glimpse of that retreating red pelt gleaming in the moonlight. But he sees nothing. He remains still for a moment. Then, slowly, he returns to his cozy little hideaway. This time the needle and tourniquet are actually kicked off the mattress, onto the dirt. Not tonight. So he'll be sick and nauseous in the morning, gasping for it, but even so, not tonight. A hand clenches around his pillow, and he turns one cheek to the mattress so that he's looking out the fort's entrance once again. Lovelier than the crisp December air or memories of today's adventures, he plans to hold onto this vision for a long, long time.

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