Difference between revisions of "Logs:Cross//walk"

From X-Men: rEvolution
Line 1: Line 1:
{{ Logs
{{ Logs
| cast = [[Ingrid|Anastasia]], [[Lucien]], [[Matt]]
| cast = [[Anastasia]], [[Lucien]], [[Matt]]
| summary = “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
| summary = “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
| gamedate = 2020-05-14
| gamedate = 2020-05-14
Line 6: Line 6:
| subtitle =  
| subtitle =  
| location = <NYC> [[Washington Square Park]] - Greenwich Village
| location = <NYC> [[Washington Square Park]] - Greenwich Village
| categories = Lucien, Matt, Ingrid, Washington Square Park, Mutants
| categories = Lucien, Matt, Anastasia, Washington Square Park, Mutants
| log = Behind a majestic white marble arch, a smaller cousin of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, this beautiful green space is a popular destination for the young, the hip, and the artistic. A huge circular wading fountain is the centerpiece, ringed by benches, playgrounds, dog runs, gaming tables, and lush green lawns. In fair weather, the park is almost always crowded with tourists, students, chess enthusiasts, and local families come to tire out their children and dogs.
| log = Behind a majestic white marble arch, a smaller cousin of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, this beautiful green space is a popular destination for the young, the hip, and the artistic. A huge circular wading fountain is the centerpiece, ringed by benches, playgrounds, dog runs, gaming tables, and lush green lawns. In fair weather, the park is almost always crowded with tourists, students, chess enthusiasts, and local families come to tire out their children and dogs.

Latest revision as of 18:10, 17 May 2020

Dramatis Personae

Anastasia, Lucien, Matt


“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”


<NYC> Washington Square Park - Greenwich Village

Behind a majestic white marble arch, a smaller cousin of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, this beautiful green space is a popular destination for the young, the hip, and the artistic. A huge circular wading fountain is the centerpiece, ringed by benches, playgrounds, dog runs, gaming tables, and lush green lawns. In fair weather, the park is almost always crowded with tourists, students, chess enthusiasts, and local families come to tire out their children and dogs.

She was going to the arch. She hadn't been out very long, but the light traveling she had done had taken her to a more crowded area. It was exciting! She had never been among so many people before nor has she seen such tall buildings. In the distance, that's where she saw the tall arch in the park.

She stepped off the sidewalk to go across the busy street, her eyes only set for the arch across the way. The honking sounds of a car is what caught her attention, blinking towards the oncoming sedan. She stumbled out the way, the car zooming pass only for more honking to follow. She turned around to see a truck coming, quickly moving out the way as it barely skirted pass her. She blinked, heart beating as she was stuck on the white line in the street.

There were cars. So many different kinds. She watched the truck go, trying to continue her way across. She never noticed the red Nissan coming right for her until she heard its horn. She looked to it, her eyes widening. She couldn't move out the way fast enough this time. It was coming her way.

It was going to hit her!

The screeching sound of the car's breaks was a resounding noise followed by an unusual metal clanking sound. The front of the car came completely undone, tearing apart into pieces. Anastasia had her hands up to defend herself. The driver still held the steering wheel, eyes wide as he stared at the girl. She blinked, looking at his car.

"Ah...Sorry!" She moved her hands, trying to put the front end of his car back together, but nothing about it looked normal. Even one of the wheels stuck out where the hood should be.

"What the hell?! Are ya some kind of freak?!"The driver started screaming at her, getting out his car, but cars were still coming, honking as they went around the strange incident.

Anastasia didn't like the screaming or the words. She tried to walk away, only for another car to almost clip her again, stumbling back to where she stood before, the irate driver coming towards her.

Actually waiting at the crosswalk, Lucien hasn't been paying a lot of attention to the street while the light is red. Dressed casual if neat in grey jeans and a mint green short-sleeve button-down, both tailored to his fit. He has his phone in one hand and a slim leather leash in the other; at the other end of the leash a sleek black and tan mutt with pointy ears and pointed muzzle is sitting expectantly at the curb. The dog has ears pricked, looking rather intently from Lucien to a darker-haired young man beside them and back, hopeful. Lucien has been looking at the phone screen in his hand until the piercing honk breaks into his focus. The sound draws his eyes upward as he slips his phone back into his pocket, reflexively tightening his hold on the leash. His brows lift, his eyes skipping sidelong to his brother with just a hint of questioning when the car begins to come apart.

It isn't until the driver gets out of the car that he actually sees fit to move, though, stepping off the curb with a quiet gesture to the dog and the breezy confidence of a longtime New Yorker -- the cars can wait! -- as he angles his path to intercept the driver. The dog is exuberant; Lucien is apologetic as she tangles her leash around the man's legs. Somewhere along the way as he is extricating the leash, the dog, profusely offering his apologies, there's a wash of -- something quite disorienting that mixes itself up in the driver's mind. A flutter of confusion, a tumult that tangles and shatters at the last-few-moments of his memory. "-- and I'm so sorry about your car," Lucien is saying, somewhere in it, a soft francophone accent lacing his words, "these out of state drivers can be just terrible, can't they? I didn't see a license plate, I'm terribly sorry. Surely your insurance will cover it -- I see so many hit and runs around here."

Beside Lucien, Matt is sharply dressed if a touch rumpled by this point in the day: a black blazer worn open over lilac dress shirt, purple paisley tie, green satin vest, gray slacks, and black oxfords. He looks pale and not particularly healthy, his short brown hair oddly lusterless, but evidently quite determined to enjoy this smoggy, noisy outing, his face tipped up toward the gray sky, the sun beginning to sink invisibly in the west.

His bright green eyes snap down toward the street at the screeching of tires and blaring of horns, searching in the midst before fixing on the teenager at the center of the chaos. He gives a minute nod, though without looking back at his brother, even as the front of the car starts coming apart--the last earning just a mild lift of his eyebrows as he follows Lucien into the street.

His power stretches out ahead of him, feeling for Anastasia's, and though he does not seize control of it he is prepared to suppress. He keeps going when Lucien tangles with the driver, approaching the young woman, though he stops a full two step away. "Hi there," his greeting is casual, calm. "Let's get out of the street, hm? These drivers are so terribly impatient." He tsks softly as he skirts around past her with an encouraging sweep of a hand. "Hurrying will get them nowhere fast at rush hour, but we have a leg up on them, no?" This with a glint in his eye and a small, controlled curl of a smile.

Anastasia took a breath. She tried to not let his shouting get to her. She just wanted to see the arch! She clutched her hands into fists, but she didn't do anything. She really didn't have to when the men approached. Oddly enough, it wasn't them that settled her down, but the appearance of the dog. She had never been up close to one before. It was cute!

She blinked at the blonde man as he talked to the driver. What was he talking about? Her attention then turned towards the darker haired male. She looked confused, but she followed him anyways out the street. She didn't glance over shoulder back at the driver though. "Sorry about your car!" She said before continuing her way out the street. She really hadn't meant to wreck his car.

The driver was just about to give Lucien a tongue lashing at his approach, but stumbled over his words. He looked down at the dog then back at the man then towards his car. He sighed exasperatedly, waving his hand. "-It's not your fault. I'm sure his looks just as bad." He looked up at the girl, waving it off with a small smile as he went to grab his phone. There was no way it was drive-able with the wheel like that. "Thanks anyways."

Once safe again on the sidewalk, she caught sight of the arch again, a small smile coming to her face. She had been so worked in the street she had completely forgotten why she had been crossing in the first place. She looked to Matt, a neutral expression coming to her face. She didn't know this man. "Thank you for helping me out the street. There were so many cars." She then turned to head across the manicured grass with the 'Do Not Step On Grass' sign. The Arch way, just a couple of feet away for the park grass, joggers, and benches.

"Take care," Lucien is bidding the driver, "I do hope the rest of your day looks up from here." The enthusiastically bounding dog is -- quite a bit more well behaved as he continues across the street, trotting obediently close at heel as he continues along to catch up to his brother in the park. He slows as he approaches, slacking his grip on Flèche's leash. "{Nobody hurt?}" he asks first, in a Quebecois-accented French, before continuing in English: "Are you quite alright? I admit it is taking a bit of getting used to having actual traffic in the streets here again."

"Flèche is the one you ought to thank, really." Matt indicates the dog with an elegant turn of his hand. "Accidents do happen, and I hope you are not injured." He rejoins Lucien and drops his hand to scritch behind the dog's ears. "{I'm fine, even if no one appreciated my pun,}" he answers his brother in similarly Quebecois French, affecting a slightly wounded sniff. He sobers, though, switching back to English to address Anastasia as she departs. "Even when there are fewer cars--it's can be dangerous for people like us." He makes no attempt to follow her, though.

Anastasia only stopped because she saw the dog out of the corner of her eye. She turned around to look down towards it curiously. She wondered what type of dog it was. She glanced back up towards Matt. "Flèche?" Was that the name of the dog? She looked back down to the dog then towards the men. They were speaking French, but it sounded different to her. Was it their native tongue? Maybe it was easier for them to speak.

"Cars are dangerous to people?" She asked in Parisian French. "But people drive cars, yes? There should be traffic lights. I remember that there are traffic lights outside." She wasn't sure what he meant by people like us. She didn't take her eyes off the dog though. "Thank you Flèche for helping across the street. It was harder than I thought it would.'

Lucien quirks one eyebrow up, just a touch. Flèche wags happily, though when Lucien winds the leash just a little bit closer around his knuckles with one lazy roll of his wrist she seems happy enough to stay by his side. "{There were traffic lights,}" he answers Anastasia mildly, his free hand tipping up and outward towards the intersection. "{I assumed you had just simply made the choice to ignore them. Many people do. There's a sort of trick to it, though, you know? Timing. Attitude. But yes, ah -}" Here his eyes flick, ever-so-brief, back to his brother. His words slip back into English, breezy and mild. "Cars are dangerous. Is this fact -- news to you?"

"That is her name. She is a bit pointy--like an arrow, no?" Matt's expression remains neutrally pleasant, if concerned, though he does blink a few times in rapid success as he meets his brother's sidelong glance. "{I was not talking about the cars, dangerous though they are.}" He has adjusted his diction, shedding some of his slick colloquial Quebecois color and moving closer to the Parisian, though his accent remains heavy. "{The people driving them can be dangerous, too. So can people without cars.}"

Anastasia smiled. She was a bit pointy like an arrow. It suited her well. She blinked up at Lucien. "Why yes, I've never imagined being hurt by one before. Because of the traffic lights. Traffic lights are for cars why would I follow them? They are not for people." She frowned. She thought that's how they work. She hadn't learned about them since she was small. She then looked to Matt. She nodded. She knew that first hand. "Oh yes. People can be quite dangerous." She then thought about it and shook her head. "Though I don't think that man was dangerous. Just loud and mean. I am glad I didn't hurt him. I feel bad for his car though."

Lucien hesitates, his hand lifting to rub fingers slowly against his cheekbone, palm lightly cupping his mouth. "Mmm," is all he manages at first, quietly. "Pardon, but are you, ah, here with anybody?"

Even Matt's easy, casual calm almost fails him. Almost He tilts his head to one side, ever so slightly. "It can be confusing," he allows, equably. "I'm also glad no one was hurt." He looks very much like he wishes to say more, but ultimately holds his tongue and merely nods his agreement to his brother's question.

Anastasia certainly agreed. She was learning a lot, but there was a lot of confusing things she didn't understand or it wasn't the way she interpret it from her book. She looked to Luci and blinked before she looked between the two men. She narrowed her eyes. Why was she talking to these two? "...No." She looked down at the dog. Yes, now she remembered. She tilted her head. "Could I pet Flèche?" She glanced up at them, thinking it over. "You speak...A strange French.English is fine though you...Still sound strange. Both of you. Does everyone speak the same around here?" She didn't know if that was something she'd have to get used to. "Is French or English better for you? I only know how to speak French one way."

Lucien's bright green eyes shift again to his brother. Then drop to the dog at his side, who has by now laid down in the grass, her eyes fixed hopefully up on a squirrel in a nearby tree and her tail thumping slow. Then upwards, at the sky. "Mmm," he says again, softer. "Flèche would enjoy that, I imagine. Gently." He unwinds one loop of the dog's leash from his knuckles -- not much. Just enough to let her scoot a little bit forward. A hint of amusement crinkles at his eyes. "{You would not be the first Parisian to have told us so,}" a mild laughter now buried in among the fresh coat of Parisian colouring in his words. "But either language is quite alright by us -- have you a preference?" His gaze ticks briefly around the park. A very small furrow creases his brows. "Have you not been in the city long? People speak all kinds of ways. Not French, for the most part."

Matt gives a minute nod to his brother's glance, his power stretching out to both Lucien and Anastasia, though sensible only to the former, its touch light but alert. His smile is bright and friendly, though, as he suggests, "She likes getting rubbed just beneath the ears." When he switches to French this time his diction is perfect International standard, though he still has not shed his accent, "{We are from Montréal--that is how most people there speak.} But--as my brother says, whatever is easiest for you."

Anastasia seemed to brighten in that regard, kneeling down to rub the dog right beneath his ears. "Maybe it's because someone has such cute ears." She was in heaven. She always wanted to pet a dog. "Ah, you're right. I never considered the other French dialects. It's the first time I heard it spoken any other way from my own. " She took the time to consider his question. "...I think...English is best for me."

She looked up at them. She wasn't really sure how to phrase her question. "Well...I don't know. I've been here all my life, but I guess I'm new to seeing the city. I'm used to seeing a bit more trees and smaller buildings." She looked back at the dog. "I've heard other languages I think. There's so many interesting things here."

"There are many, here. Our variety of French is not quite as common, but then -- neither is yours. A good deal of the French speakers in the city come from places like Haiti or French Guiana, Senegal, Mali -- you might not hear a lot of French, but if you do, you will hear a lot that does not sound like you." Lucien speaks quietly, his forefinger and thumb brushing slowly back and forth against a worn-smooth strip on the handle of the leash. As promised, Flèche does quite enjoy the petting; she wriggles closer, her tail swishing faster, head pressing hard into the touch. "All your life." Lucien echoes this slowly, a minute twitch at the side of his mouth as he glances back towards the traffic light. "Well. I suppose we are each of us learning -- something new about the city each day."

"Mm, Upstate is a rather different world," Matt allows with a faint note of apology, "and Long Island might as well be a different planet. I'm sure it can be overwhelming." His smile goes gentler, watching the girl pet Flèche. "I do hope you can find your way safely, wherever you are going. I'm afraid it's quite common for people to do worse than just be...loud and mean, when they see things they do not understand."

"Here?! Really?" She was surprised by that, but then she thought back to her studies. She nodded."New York. We're in New York, right? New York is a central port and international hub for trade and entering the border. Of course, there would be a variety of people here. I never really had to think about it before, but that makes a lot of sense." She looked back at the dog. Aww, she looked so happy with the pets. She was making her happy. That was pleasing.

"Honestly, I wouldn't know the difference if I was there. " She had read about them in books though. "Unless I saw a sign or something." She thought a bit back to his latter words, a small shiver running up her spine. Her eyes took on a far off glance though her head was directed towards the dog. She knew far too well how worse they could be. She blinked, clearing her head of it though a knew thought came to mind. "...You...You weren't surprised by what I did to the car." She looked up at them. "Who are you?"

"You don't know where we are." Lucien's voice is just a little bit flatter than it was before. "My name is Lucien. This is my brother Matthieu. What you did to the car was quite startling, yes. Certainly better we noticed it than the Sentinels." His thumb continues to run in steady circles against the worn leather of the leash. "Do you -- have some means of getting yourself home?"

"Yes, we are in New York City," Matt confirms evenly. "Upstate and Long Island are--the rest of New York State." He waves, a touch dubiously, when introduced. "I wouldn't go so far as to say I wasn't surprised! But I have seen a lot."

“I haven’t ran into any signs. I assumed this was New York City but I wasn’t 100%. It’s just like my books. “ She rose a brow. “The Sentinels?” That didn’t sound familiar. She shook her head at the talk of going home. “Oh I’m not going back there.” She didn’t want to go back to the basement. She moved her hands from the dog. Instead she wrung them together though she stayed at the dog’s level. She looked back at them, for a moment really just looking at them before speaking. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

"Ought we be afraid of you." There's a dryness to Lucien's tone, a distinct lack of uptick at the end of this that doesn't quite render it a proper question. He clicks his tongue quietly when Anastasia finishes petting Flèche, calling the dog back to his side. "You -- assumed. Ah --" His eyes drift away from the girl, away from his brother, slowly sweeping the park around them. "The Sentinels are --" His head shakes, only slightly. "I think," he says, very carefully, "that there is rather a bit more information you are lacking than I can provide. There is -- rather a nice library." His hand tilts towards one of the park exits. "Just that way, I am sure the librarians could offer you much better guidance than we can. I really do owe Flèche a proper walk, though. Poor dear has been so very patient already." His head inclines just slightly to the teenager. "Take care."

Matt blinks rapidly, then sighs long and deep. "If any of my students put you up to this, you may tell them it worked--you really had me going for a minute. But someone really could have gotten hurt back there." His lips press together thinly, and he opens his mouth to add something, but only closes it again, suddenly looking exhausted. "Be safe."

Anastasia looked really confused. She glanced back at the dog. She hated to see her go but it couldn’t be helped. She needed her walks. “Goodbye Flèche.” She looked in the direction Lucien pointed then back towards the men. Had she said something wrong? “What do you mean? I’m not trying to trick you. Did I say something confusing?” This time she looked a bit offended. The worse always seemed to be seen in her actions. “I wouldn’t risk anyone’s life on purpose. Why would I allow myself to be treated that way?” He said it himself; people could be much worse. She clutched her hands into fists, trying to control the trembling. He called her a freak. A circle just around her on the side walk began to form like the concrete began to crumble away. “I hadn’t meant to-“ She stopped herself. “I just wanted to see the arch...” She said quietly. She felt like her feelings had been disregarded and judged. It hurt.

At this outburst, Lucien's lips just compress. His brows lift -- but only very slightly -- when the ground begins to tremble. The look he flicks to his brother is flat. Sensible only to Matt, there is a quiet shifting in his mind, a careful tightening of his own mental processes. Once more, he winds the leash a loop tighter around his hand, keeping Flèche close at his side as he guides the dog away from Anastasia and further down the walk.

In Lucien's perception Matt's power flexes in an almost lazy way, but its effect is inexorable. The crumbling sidewalk abruptly ceases crumbling as Anastasia's power just--stops. "Enough," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I'm not going to condescend or lecture you. Even if I wanted to, I'm much too tired." He shuts his mouth firmly and trails after his brother and their dog.