ArchivedLogs:The Right Thing

The Right Thing
Right?
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Mallory	2014-02-19 Registration. Yay.
Location <WES> Salem Center
This town is a small hamlet, one of the last few working to preserve its historical identity in Westchester County. The cobbled streets are neatly upkept, and the quaint storefronts have been largely unchanged for ages -- in their facades, at least, even if the businesses inside them here and there have kept pace with the times. Here and there. Many, though, have been owned by the same families for generations. The business district is a single drag through the center of town, with houses branching off of the main street; in this small town, it's as common to see horses as cars making their way down the road. It's finally above freezing for once, although admittedly not /much/ above. In the high thirties, the afternoon walk into Westchester is quite cold, though the lack of freezing rain, or snow is a kindness from the weather gods. Aloke is ambling along with with his lady-love, arm in arm, along the quiet road, nearly into town. He's wearing heavy jeans, walking boots, and a white, oxford collar shirt. Over this is a thick, black wool walking coat. He also has a red scarf and a black beanie pulled low over his ears, plus gloves for his hands. Interestingly, with the small amount of his skin actually showing, his bright glow seems diffused. He's still quite obviously glowing, and when his jacket is open his chest shines right through the white shirt, but his skin is no longer painful to look at. After the experiment with caking on piles of stage makeup, he decided to try something new. Many of the more protective sunscreens come with aluminium salts mixed in, and this is apparently going a long way toward making the glow of his skin less painful. Let's just hope it doesn't start to rain. Cheery and reasonably warm though it may be, this is a day Mallory has been absolutely dreading for months. Dragging herself through her routine today, she has tried to find any number of excuses not to head in to Westchester - refusing to acknowledge the existence of her alarm clock this morning, grading papers, helping with research, working on the novel she suddenly decided to start writing. All of that only delayed this admittedly necessary trip away from campus on this crisp February afternoon. She holds tight to Aloke's arm, an occasional tremor the only obvious sign of her earlier nerves. Her free arm holds the handle of a small black leather briefcase, neatly embossed with the initials 'M.E.W.' in flowing gold script - her carefully crafted statement contained within, along with a host of other necessary documents. Mallory is dressed casually, in attire that does little to hide the /otherness/ of her appearance. Long, dark blue jeans hug her legs, accentuating the lower portion of her legs and leaving little question that the hooves are in fact natural, and not some fashion statement. A warm sweater-tunic in a soft caramel wool is belted at her waist with a thin black belt, the deep cowl neckline showing off delicate collarbones and the thin gold chain with a single black pearl in a simple setting. Over all this, she wears a nearly floor length black wool coat, flared at the back to accommodate her long tail without binding it. Her hair is pulled up into an artfully messy bun, held in place by a pair of lucite spikes, only serving to accentuate the pair of curling rams horns sprouting from her temples. Her dark eyes are hidden behind a pair of large black sunglasses, though she has done nothing to attempt to mask her even, red complexion. If they intend to categorize her as a monster one way or another, why bother to hide? Aloke pulls Mallory's arm, hooked through his as it is, to snug her in close at his side for a few steps. "This is the right thing," he says, as reassuringly as he can. It's probably as much for him as for her. "I mean, the whole MRA is utter bullshit, but /not/ registering will just cause more problems." He trails off a little, definitely still convincing himself. He sighs and runs his fingers through his graying hair, causing light to shimmer up from his scalp in wavy reflections. He glances up as another car goes by on the road. It was quiet for most of the walk to town, but traffic has steadily increased as the two draw closer to the RMV in Westchester. He smirks and says, "I… think this is possibly the first time in my life I wish a trip would take /longer/." He frowns at the buildings before them. At the tug, Mallory leans into Aloke, gently bonking her horn against the side of his head, remaining quiet for a few steps. She links her arm around his waist, sighing softly, “I know. I just…” the sentence trails off in a small, frustrated growl, “As the law requires it, so I must obey. I do not like it, but I am not in a position to protest or object.” Behind her, partially hidden by the long coat, her tail swishes slowly in agitation, “If I don’t register, with complete honesty, I could get deported.” Shuddering at that though, Mallory glances up at the car passing by, “And what the UK is proposing is admittedly worse than what is being implemented here. For now. And I have grown rather fond of my life here.” She plants a gentle kiss against his temple, her lips warmer than normal with the stress of the goal for the day. “Part of me just wants to get this over with. The other part wants to run away and hide somewhere safe,” she exhales, eyeing the buildings ahead of them with trepidation. "I'm with you on that. On every point, actually. It's hard to not just head for the middle of Iceland and call it good." Aloke shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "But I'm also pretty fond of your life here too." Aloke walks on quietly for a time, and then slows to a stop as they enter the town proper. He leans back against the front of the post office, and checks his inner pocket for the folded up piece of paper that is his written statement for the tenth time. He lifts his chin at the RMV office across the street and says, "Last chance to put it off. We still have a few weeks." “I hear Tahiti is a magical place this time of year,” Mallory mumbles, wrinkling her nose at the thought of somewhere else cold, her steps slowing as they approach, “Never been somewhere tropical before. And I think I’ve had quite enough snow for now.” Eyeing the RMV anxiously, she sighs, glancing back the way they came as though giving that offer some serious thought. “I would feel rather foolish to have walked all this way, only to head back empty handed. May as well get it done with,” she says, her voice defeated. Popping open the flap of her brief case to make certain she still has her own statement, neatly printed out, twice. As well as a handwritten copy in case that is necessary. “Alright. I have my license, my passport, my residence card,” she mutters, eyes closed behind the dark glasses while she takes note of her necessary paperwork. “I… think I’m ready. Ready when you are,” she says with a curt nod of her head and a nervous smile. Aloke smirks at the idea of Tahiti. "Yeah, but if go there, we'll have to land in the water. And I know how much you love the water." Aloke pushes off the wall and takes Mallory's hand to lead the way across the street. "It's the right thing to do," he repeats as they go. When they reach the door, he takes a deep breath and hauls the door open, standing back. "Ladies first," he says with a tired smile.