[Thomas Taylor] Stumbling out on tot he street he has a grin about him. his left hand comes up thumb to his lips as he brings it before his eyes and sees the blood there. His lip has a bloody crack down bottom where it was busty open. He stands straight, tidying himself up from the small rukus he had...
Still the point was made who the hell in there right mind thinks baseball is better than football. He turns around and quite loudly "COME AND 'AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YOUR 'ARD E'NUFF!" He then sticks up two fingers and pulls a smoke from his pocket
[Natyana Wapanee] She stops, blinking at the outburst of the strange man. Her slow steps slow even more, and she simply watches.
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Administrator] Wharil Choc, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Thomas Taylor] He pulls out his zippo and puts it to his cough lighting it as he grimaces a moment as tobacco smoke mixes with his cut...still he blows the smoke upwards and turns to walk away nearly bumping straight into her, his eyes looking upwards he does not see her.
[Natyana Wapanee] Having been watching the fiery, yelling man, she has time to attempt to scramble out of the way. But with him having nearly two feet over her, a much longer leg clips hers and she frowns, doing a little hop to finish her attempt to move out of the way. "Watch it buddy"
[Thomas Taylor] "Whoa..." He jumps back, the cigarrtte nearly falling from his lips, but he does not loose it that easily just keeping his grip on it. He takes a step back...then another...fuck me it's a midget he tries to keep that realisation from his face but some of it fades through. his right hand comes to his lips and pulls the cig from them. His left hand comes to his side and a little bit in front of him "Sorry miss...." What do you say when you were not looking "Did not see you..." Bravo Tommy, bravo.
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Natyana Wapanee] An eyebrow twitches at him, and she gives him a little bit of a smirk. She knows the looks. You don't have to have empathy when you see them constantly. "Yeah, I know. It's fine, I'm used to it. You uh... got a little blood there" Scratches her finger lightly on her chin.
[Wharil Choc] With this many in a city it was easy to go overlooked. Too easy, in fact. Too much for a soul to take. Loneliness creeps in like cold under the door. Like a draft in winter. It cuts straight through you, down to the bone, and no matter what you do you simply can't make yourself warm again.
In the winter, its hard to notice it in other people. Everyone has the same bowed head, bent back walk. Everyone has the same self-hug, the same urgency to simply get where they're going and not be fucking stopped in the street by some jackass who doesn't really give a damn about them. In winter, everyone wants to be left alone. But in summer, when the sky is blue you can always tell when others are as well. You see them coming from blocks away. Take this guy for example. He obviously hasn't shaved in days. Smells like he hasn't had a bath in even longer. And he's got that bowed head, bent back walk that winter people do, despite his flip-flops and short jeans, and exposed arms under a dingy wife beater.
He's muttering something to himself, but as he passes the short woman and the taller man who'd almost walked over her, it sounds more like whining. Like mournful complaining.
"...You can't make yourself warm again..." He says. As well as "Their eyes aren't as sharp as their fucking teeth!"
He keeps walking. The gathering pedestrians wait at the corner. Delivery vans and taxis and folks picking their kids up from school to drop them off at karate practice all stream past in a non-stop flow of traffic. Their light is green, and the pedestrian light is orange, gleaming back 'Don't Walk'.
But the winter-walking man just keeps on walking.
[Thomas Taylor] He brings his left hand up and runs his thumb over his chin, a small redness in his cheeks at the noticing. "Yeah pet, sum thugs you know 'ow it is, so many heathens need to be corrected of there sinners path." He smirks taking another drag from his gig as he chooses widely to blow the smoke from his nose...less pain.
He gives her the one glance over "Look i am sorry, bad form pet, my bad were all robins right?" He puts his hand to his chest then gesture to her....
[Natyana Wapanee] Her eyes catch the muttering, hunched man, and she starts backing up a little. Eyes going back to Thomas quickly, and harden a little. "You do realize, calling me 'pet' sort of negates the whole apology coming off genuine, right?" Another smirk, and a wave of her hand at him. "Long as you call me something other than midget references, yeah sure. But keep that up and I'll have to headbutt you in the kneecap"
[Thomas Taylor] He felt that shiver up his spine, a nervousness creeping into him that was uncommon, not natural. His eyes look to the man then back to the woman "I call everyone pet...pet...." He takes a deep drag of his cough.
His head turns after the man a small comment in passing "You might need a blanket squire, 'elps with the potatoes out 'ere."
[Wharil Choc] The first car honks its horn long before the thud. The body's in the air when the tires from the second car squeal, but that doesn't keep the body from knocking spiderweb patterns into the windshield. The man makes it across the road at least. The pedestrians on this side of the street are shocked, hands over their mouths and staring wide eyed at one another. The pedestrians on the other side of the street are horrified. They all jump back in unison as the man lands on the sidewalk, his face and arms mangled, networked in blood. His leg twisted around. His teeth drip from his mouth as he continues trying to speak. His voice is still a complaint. Still a step below weeping.
The cars stop, which means the cars that were following them stop as well, which means that, temporarily at least, the cars that were moving perpendicularly stop as well. A crowd forms. People come out of stores and bars just to see the commotion, and add to it.
The man on the ground trembles and bleeds. No one helps him. No one seems to want to even touch him.
[Administrator] .Oo, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Natyana Wapanee] She starts to say something to Thomas, shooting a not so happy look about being referred to as pet. Yet again. But then there's this cacophony of horns and screeching tires that pulls her attention back to the heebie jeebie man.
Her jaw drops. Her eyes widen. "oh shit..." And her feet are moving. The others might just gawk, but she'll at least dig for a cellphone to call an ambulance with
[Administrator] .Oo has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Thomas Taylor] He blinks, mouth drops as this time the smoke does fall on the floor....like everyone else shock comes in as he watches like it was a TV and soon someone will run on and save the day, or the scene will change and we'll be in the hospital...
But it does not, then the adrenaline kicksas can he really just stand there and do nothing as the midget passes him he curses himself... “Sumbody fuckin’ ‘elp ‘im then!”he shouts as Tom runs out into the road hands banging on the car bonnets as he runs past to make sure they stay put as he stops by the man and looks down, smoke still pouring from his lungs and out of his nose. He goes to one knee...he had nothing for this, his voice caught in his throat. “...You’ll be okay squire, tis only a flesh wound.”The lie detectable on his lips....
[Natyana Wapanee] [least he landed on the side of traffic where she can see him.... perc + aware]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Administrator] Inconspicuous Turnip, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Thomas Taylor] ((Can he see anything but blood))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wharil Choc] Its so very faint. So oddly innocuous. But its certainly there. There's a child in the crowd, huddled near the dying man. His skin is dark and ashen, and he holds himself in a low crouch, knees to chest, sheltering himself in ways that his tattered t-shirt and ragged, dirty shorts cannot. He looks around at the crowd, too frightened to move. And then, when Thomas approaches, he scurries back a few steps.
Seeing the crowd suddenly he scurries back forward and places both hands on his head, shuddering with ragged breaths and wide, frightened eyes.
***
Meanwhile, broken fingers reach Thomas, grabbing at his shirt collar, at his neck. It almost seemed like he was trying to pull himself up. Like he could fight through the pain of having his leg turned the wrong way and his face smashed in. He'd be fine. Just get him on his feet and he'd be fine.
But he's obviously not fine. Blood forms bubbles around his nostrils upon exhale. One could only imagine what it was doing to him when he inhaled. One could only imagine all the places that blood was coming from.
"I'm c-c-cold." He complains to Thomas. And his grip, instead of pulling him up, pulled Thomas down. Pulling him down like a drowning man. Like a dying man.
[Natyana Wapanee] It takes her a moment, but she does catch the child out of the corner of her eye. Thomas easily passing her with his much longer strides, though she's not far behind him. He's dealing with the man, and she looks around, wincing a bit, and she does indeed keep some distance.
Her eyes go to the child again. Child... dying man.... freaking out child.... dying man. "Fuck me." She hands Thomas the phone "I have it dialed, just hit send." And she weaves through people, heading for the kid
[Administrator] Molly Quincannon, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Molly Quincannon] Molly's actually out and about! With minimal bandages! Her knees bend and everything! So out she goes to do some shopping and enjoy the office-mandated time off.
And there's Thomas. Being pulled to the ground by ... okay, something's going on. She doesn't know the other person - the one dashing off elsewhere (and she's Curious, oh yes) - but she knows Thomas. She's curious about that too, and she knows the person being hauled down to the ground by someone who looks like he's been on the wrong side of a car wreck. So down the street she dashes in the general direction of Thomas - no first aid to speak of, but... "Um ... what the holy hell? Did someone dial 911?"
[Thomas Taylor] He does not get chance to move as the bloody hands grab his collar his eyes widen, then his right hand fall on instinct to stop him slamming onto the man, it lands with a slap in fresh blood as he holds himself there. He was not afraid of blood, he has seen and had his fair share but the coldness, that was new that was different. Then suddenly a phone is placed in his other hand, distracted he is dragged closer to the dying man blood from nose, mouth, his cries starting to speckle Tom's cheek.
But Thomas knew the world was fucked it was all going to end, thats the point the war was lost, the dreams had died.
What do you say to a dying man, what comfort can you give someone on deaths door that may only have seconds to live.... when it feels like he might take you with him "Dude, everythin' will be...robin...got the fixers on the dog..."
One phone close to his ear, his right hand stopping his decent onto the man body covered in his blood, red speckles starting to pop on his cheek....he had not even been here a week....
[Molly Quincannon] [[Perc + Aware]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Administrator] Inconspicuous Turnip has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Wharil Choc] The child doesn't see Natyana coming. He remains curled up. Shuddering.
***
"Sharper...than their...eyes."
These are the last things the man says. Slowly the bubbles from his nose and mouth stop streaming. Slowly his grip on Thomas's collar relinquishes. Slowly his chests and shoulders stop jerking and shuddering. His eyes remain open. His face relaxes.
And there's an odd sort of coldness that starts to fill Thomas's body. Slowly.
***
As Molly rushes over, there's some kind of movement in the corner of her eyes. The crowd remains at bay, staring at the only soul brave enough to not let a man die alone. The movement isn't from any of them. And yet, it comes from their direction.
It looks like a child. Bald headed. Ashen skin. It carries itself low to the ground. Sickly looking, stick thin arms and legs propel it in a sort of scurry. Its eyes seem so sad. So frightened. And yet, it reaches out as if comforting, and places a hand on Thomas's back.
[Natyana Wapanee] She drops low to the ground, not that that's an overly huge feat, and slips close to the child. "Kid... hey kid... where's your parents? You shouldn't be here with all this...."
At least some kind of shot at warning she's coming so she doesn't scare him too bad just popping up. The man is dying... not a chance for her to try and save him with all the gawkers. Try to save the child is her other option.
[Molly Quincannon] Well. That's ... bizarre. Molly doesn't have a spit's worth of Spirit, but this? This doesn't look normal. And it's reaching out for Thomas and she doesn't know what for and this is hardly the time to ask about it because there are way too many witnesses and she doesn't even know if they register this thing or not. However, there's a thing about personal space and creeping up on people and while part of her reckons that this might be a comfort issue on the part of the ... whatever-it-is ... she doubts it. She's not that overconfident when it comes to other people.
Thus Molly, with her usual overconfident air, barges through the crowd, kneels right next to Thomas and puts her own hand in the area of his back in what might be taken by the crowd for the sort of gesture of comfort this ... child-like thing is trying to give. However, what she's actually doing is removing the thing's hand from Thomas' back and keeping a hold on it. She'd rather be touching it than having Thomas be touched by it. If it's doing anything, she can cope with it. Thomas, taken unaware, might not be.
Why no, with the week she's had, Molly is not feeling particularly less than paranoid, why do you ask?
[Thomas Taylor] ((Willpower!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 8)
[Wharil Choc] The child starts at first, then turns big, frightened eyes to Natyana. He goes straight to her, arms open wide, clinging to her in a desperate embrace.
His entire body is so very cold.
***
The hand that Molly moved to touch suddenly moves away. And the child scampers squirrel like around the other of Thomas's head. It whimpers slightly, looking back at Molly with those sad eyes...
And then hisses at her with a mouthful of tiny baby teeth. The hands seem to grip tighter at Thomas's flesh, until the tips sink in. Deeper, and deeper, and in moments its gone.
[Wharil Choc] And the cold creeping over Thomas's body grows. It spreads, giving him goose flesh. And it grows deeper. To the bone. To somewhere deeper, somewhere that simple physical cold doesn 't usually touch.
A man has died before his very eyes. This might not be new to him, but it does remind him, somehow, of every other time it has happened. And of every time its happened to someone else. And of every time anyone, anywhere, has died. It reminds him of the toy he lost as a child and could never find again. It reminds him of the child that he once was, and can never find again. It reminds him so strongly of loss that the only thing he can think of doing is leaving this place. Getting away from all this death. Walk, and weep, and keep walking until its all gone.
And its so, very cold today.
to Thomas Taylor
[Natyana Wapanee] [creepy cold kid]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas stands, slowly, with the bloody hand he goes into his pocket as he pulls out a cig and places it in his lips, red bloody fingerprints staining the otherwise bright white. The phone gets dropped by the cockney as the hand goes into his pocket and pulls out his zippo. Then he turns with nothing to say and starts walking...
He lights the smoke, it was so damn cold...
[Wharil Choc] The crowd buzzes with the same sort of murmuring as before. Newcomers come, they see a crowd. They see blood. They ask what happened and someone fills them in and the murmuring continues. All eyes are on the dead body on the ground, attention fixed there like some morbid beacon.
But there's also something else. From somewhere among the crowd, there's humming. Someone's voice calling out over the din of the chaos in a slow, low-toned dirge.
***
The child in Natyana's arms huddles itself close, and her body becomes more cold because of it. His bare feet chill her ribs as his legs wrap around her, and his fingers sink deep into her shoulder.
It hurts. Enough to get her attention. Hurts enough to let her know she was alive.
[Molly Quincannon] Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Okay, there's nothing to be done for the dead. Sad, but true. When Thomas drops the phone and stands, she stands with him, and when he walks away, she doesn't even pause to tell someone to ring someone else. There's nothing to be done for the dead, but there's something to be done for the living and she's not letting Thomas go far without finding out what the hell is going on with Thomas.
Thus she follows Thomas. More, she breaks into a run to catch up and get ahead of him so she can grab him by the shoulders and hopefully make him stop. Even more hopefully, meet his eyes. "Thomas? Thomas, talk to me, okay? What's going on? What just happened? That ... that thing just sunk its fingers in you! What do you feel? Thomas, fuck, don't make me slap you."
Then the humming starts and her hands involuntarily tighten on his shoulders, hard enough to dig into his flesh. Frankly, she's terrified. "Fuck that; if you don't talk to me right now, I am going to punch you."
[Natyana Wapanee] She gasps, eyes going wide. Ok... shock can make a person gold... but this? This isn't natural. This is just... wrong. She staggers back, hands going to the child's sides and tries to pull it off. His fingers digging in getting a wince from her.
"Hey... heyheyhey it's ok.... ease up kiddo, huh? That's skin, and I'm kind of attached to it. Where's your mom or dad?" She turns, eyes looking for anyone that might seem to be looking for him, and she narrows her eyes. The humming... what....? "the fuck is going on....?" the thought train winds up falling out of her mouth
[Thomas Taylor] ((WP Spent)) Thomas looks to her, all that fun, that lovable rougue she saw is gone, those blue eyes like the winters ice sucking all heat, smoke bellows from his nose as she feels him push against her. His eyes suddenly focus a moment like he can hear her
"Tis the brass out 'ere info-slut, want...no need to start wanderin'....jesus so fuckin cold, it's...'"
Then it is gone the eyes glaze over again like frozen in ice and he goes to move out of her grasp, no effort hardly any force just the resigned steps of a man walking towards the end...
"It's so fuckin' brass"
[Natyana Wapanee] [anyone got a crowbar handy?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)
[Administrator] Peeker, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Molly Quincannon] It's the middle of summer. It's over 90 degrees outside. What the fuck is he talking about?
Suffice to say that she is not letting him go. He's going to need to put a bit of effort in if he wants to get away from Molly at this point. In fact, she shakes him by the shoulders as hard as she can when his eyes glaze over again. "No, Thomas, look at me! No friend worth a shit would let anyone who looked like you wander around on their own and ... oh, fuckit."
She doesn't have Mind. She doesn't have Spirit. She doesn't have much of anything that would help in this situation. So instead of that, she slaps him as hard as she can, while keeping the other clenched firmly on his shoulder. She resumes the two-handed grip of his shoulders as soon as she can, ignoring the sting of her palm, and says, "You're not. Going. Anywhere. It is ninety-four degrees out here. It is not. Cold. There is something wrong. And the only place you're going from here is my place, if you really feel like you need to wander. Because you're not leaving my sight to end up like the ... like him." She doesn't point to emphasise the point; she simply lifts his hand, the one not holding the cigarette, to show the bloodstains on it. "So if you can do a bit of the Potterific to wake the hell up, then for Kibo's sake do it!"
[Wharil Choc] There's a man there now, standing over the dead body. Its summer but he's wearing a sports jacket all the same, black, and black slacks and hair to match. He too has hair the color of ravens wings. He too has skin that is bronzed, but not from the sun. He too kneels and touches a hand at the dead man's chest, not shying away from the blood.
Then he turns and scans the crowd, and his eyes land on Natyana, spotting her somehow, even below all the heads and the bodies. He pushes through them now, heading straight for her. He's humming.
The child turns toward the approaching man. Natyana can see now: those eyes, those frightened, sad eyes, they don't move the way normal eyes move. They're fixed in their sockets, fixed to look wide. And they pupils never change their pin-prick focus.
Something the man had said. Something about their eyes, and their teeth.
The child gets nervous, and Natyana warms. Not physically, but emotionally. Perhaps that pain gave her the jolt that she needed. Whatever it is, the combination seems discomforting. It opens its mouth, revealing ivory white baby teeth, and it whines as if in pain. As if from terror. It tries to dig its fingers further, but they barely scratch the surface of her skin.
[Wharil Choc] ITS HARV!!!!
to Peeker
[Thomas Taylor] His head turns a swift right, an audible slap resounding around them as his cig close flying in to the road. His head hangs to the side, a red bleemish already starting to show, he grins, faintly, ever so slightly, barely a touch on his lips.
It is not the first slap he has taken, it hopefully will not be the last but...a fire a memory...
((WP spent)) He looks back to her, a dim light in his eyes "If your goin' to knock me out then hurry up and knock me the fuck out info-slut...this thing is eatin' at my..."
Once more, those eyes glaze over save this time he puts a hand on her shoulder, muscles tense as he shoves her out of the way, injury or no injury nothing can stop him
"All those fuckin'sharp teeth...." He goes to move on, to wander till it ends....
[Natyana Wapanee] Too... many... things.... bouncing.... attention......
Her feels the weight of the man's gaze, and turns to look at him, but the child moving shifts her attention. She sees now, those strange eyes.. and... teeth? Shit. Teeth. What the fuck is that? "Awwww fuck. Kid don't do this. Lemme go, before something really bad happens..." She starts moving backwards, away from the man that approaches... too much attention. Can't think. Can't breathe. Pain... pain is good.
There's a clammy freaky piranha child trying to make itself a growth on my tits and the jolly black creepy limo driver heading my way. Maybe he'll bring the vaseline?
She grunts and wedges her hands palm out between her and the kid and shoves. Hard as she can.
[Peeker] Sup Dre! Just a lookin' in 'n watchin' heh
to Wharil Choc
[Wharil Choc] The kid holds on for dear life, even though is fingers slip against her skin. Even though she pushes it away from herself, it holds on to the pushing hand. It was like trying to get rid of a monkey. Or a very persistent squirrel.
His fingertips are black. She notices this when he grabs the child by the neck and plucks it off her like fruit from a tree. It struggles. It lets out a choked scream and those sad, pleading eyes begin to water.
The man...sings. The song is not in English or Spanish or French. The song is in a tongue that sounds like falling rocks and snapping twigs. He sings, and squeezes harder.
Moments later, it is gone. Dust that falls upward. Someone in the crowd eyes him with a 'wierdo' look, but soon seems to forget.
"Are you okay?" He says, turning to Natyana. He looks at her sidelong, curiously. "You saw it, didn't you? Yeah. You were fighting with the grief-monger."
[Molly Quincannon] Everything Thomas says gets stored in the hard drive that passes for her memory. He's not registering much, but she's not that strong; if he's trying to move her, he will move her, though the minute he puts a hand on her shoulder, she sets her feet to make sure he can't move her much. So when she shoves him, it's sideways, with a foot outstretched and a guiding hand shoving his head towards the nearest wall. Her fists won't do it to knock him out, but she knows full well how much a smack of the head against a wall can scramble the mental circuitry. Not three days ago, it cost her a few layers of skin on her legs, after all.
No matter how necessary this is, she mutters, "...sorry..." as he goes down.
[Natyana Wapanee] She just sort of.... stares. What is there to say when someone just comes strolling up and turns little boys to dust infront of your eyes? Not the weirdest thing she's seen, but definitely up there.
She nods, a little slack jawed still, then finally blinks her eyes and looks back towards the now dead man. "Shit. That guy, where'd he go?" Not likely referring to the dead man.. who... for obvious reasons wouldn't be getting up to wander off
[Molly Quincannon] [[Um, yeah; Dex + Brawl + WP = please dear gods let me take him down...]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Thomas Taylor] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wharil Choc] "Someone else? Near the dead man?"
His brows furrow as he tries to look through the crowd again, but this time it seems he can't.
"We have to find him. Lets hope he hasn't gotten far." He says, and grabs Natyana by the hand as he starts pushing through the crowd.
[Thomas Taylor] ((WP spent))His head hits the wall with a slam, blood trails down the wall as he falls to his knees, a coughing then a small chuckle from his lips...He had taken a hit earlier he was feeling both now his eyes starting to show two of everything
"Kick me in the fuckin' head info-slut, for fucks sake DO IT, hockey is for fuckin' pussies!"
He turns offering his head to her, one sharp kick should do it....his eyes already loosing that passion... "'ave a go if you think yer 'ard..."
It cuts off, he looks like he is trying to stand
[Molly Quincannon] [[And with the Dex + Brawl again. And the WP again.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Natyana Wapanee] She blinks at the strange man, nodding, and pumps those little sausage legs to keep up. "I didn't get a name, but he was with the road kill when I went to check on the freaking out kid. Gave him my phone to call an ambulance" Her eyes move around, but she frowns and shakes her head. Too much crowd, too many tall objects
[Thomas Taylor] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Molly Quincannon] The 'hockey is for fuckin' pussies' thing does not cut it. Molly will get into bar fights when necessary, she will beat up on people when necessary, and this is as necessary as it gets...
But that doesn't mean she likes it. She's kind of afraid she's going to kill him, but she hasn't got any choice, so when she kicks him, it's steel toe-cap first, right to the temple. This may or may not be a manoeuvre she's used before. It seems practiced enough, and it also serves to slam his head into the wall again. He may not lose consciousness, but three hits to the head probably means he's not going to be moving too far any time soon. Still, just to be on the safe side, when he's down, she goes as far as to sit on him. He'll have to squirm a lot more than his current state suggests he should be able to if he wants to get up now.
"...I miss my stompy boots and suddenly hate my life..."
[Thomas Taylor] instinct take over and even in his cold state he rolls with the blow some blood already built up from the nose sprays onto Molly and the wall.
He is back on the floor at least but still concious, he could feel it eating at him, taking all that passion, taking every life lost, taking all his toys...she sits on him and for the mment he is pinned stars circle his eyes, blackness offering it's sweet release but thats the thing about darkness...it was cold so damn fucking cold
((WP Spent)) He screams, "FOR FUCKS SAKE, KNOCK ME OUT!!!!"
[Molly Quincannon] [[And again; this is going to be a very tired Molly and Thomas when all is said and done.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[Thomas Taylor] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Molly Quincannon] "I am trying, you collosal ning-nong! It's not my fault you've got such a freakin' hard head!"
Molly is frustrated, and she is tired, and this was going to be such a nice day...
"Now shut up and go down!"
At which point she grabs him by both ears and slams the back of his head into the wall behind them as hard as she can.
[Thomas Taylor] ((Well you cannot botch a soak, but I think it is more than enough to take him down, 6 in total including what he took earlier))
Finally he goes down, she hears a thud which turns into a nasty sounding squelch his body goes limp beneath her, blood from his mouth and nose leaking onto the floor, a red stain where she planted his head. One eye already swelling and grit and grim from the wall, her boot and the floor scattered across his face...
He looks relieved or peaceful, those eyes closed those cold eyes finally shut from the world....
[Natyana Wapanee] Her head tilts at the sound of Thomas's yelling. She staggers a little, and pulls on the man's hand. "This way. I hear him"
[Molly Quincannon] There's blood on Molly's hands. On her face. Smeared across the lenses of her glasses. Thomas is out and, judging from the blood on the back of his head (Try not to panic; it's probably just a scalp wound. Scalp wounds bleed like a bitch, Floyd always said...), he's going to stay that way. So she stops sitting on him, shifting over to sit beside him instead, and takes off her glasses in an attempt to clean them. Unfortunately, there's blood on her T-shirt too, so even when she puts them back on, most of what she's seeing is smears of a friend's blood.
She buries her head in her hands and starts muttering, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."
[Natyana Wapanee] "Something tells me he's used to getting slapped" Smirks, shrugging. She squats down, not like she really needed to, but Molly's on the ground so it only seemed polite. Or something resembling that. "It's the reason your buddy here needed his ass kicked by a girl so he didn't go do anything stupid. It was leeching the warm and fuzzy out of him"
[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks over at the new mage and nods. "Yeah, I got that impression. He kept talking about how cold it was. It's ninety-something degrees. That's just freakish. I guess the wonderful world of Umbra is a bit on the twisty side just now? That's so never been my thing..."
[Natyana Wapanee] "It's not pretty over there, that's for sure. These things seem to be... I guess you could say reproducing from spreading that icky cold. This guy just walked up and plucked the kid off me, that humming thing he's doing is like nails on a chalkboard to them." She turns her eyes to watch the strange man and Thomas
[Wharil Choc] "Its a mourners chant." He says finally, breaking into the conversation in progress. "The grief mongers can only survive in the presence of certain emotions. Its why they look the way they look. Why they do what they do. Comfort the grief in the host, and they can't survive."
He peels Thomas's eyes open, looking into them. A dark smudge is left on his lids when he's done.
"That's it. That's all I can do. We have to wake him up. He's got to do the rest."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly winces. "Um ... so much not my department. Um ... sorry, what's your name? You haven't got anything that could help, have you? Best I can manage is a bottle of Mountain Dew poured on his face, and that'd just be nasty in his condition."
[Natyana Wapanee] She thinks about it for a minute, then pulls her little backpack around and pulls out a bottle of water. Pops the cap. "Natyana. What's yours? And that's actually up my alley about three blocks over. I deal with... well not those things. Never seen em before." She holds the bottle out and turns it upside down over Thomas's face.
She looks over at the man. "Thank you creepy tall guy"
[Wharil Choc] "I'm not that tall." He says curtly, then turns to Molly.
"You know this man, right? When he wakes up he'll still be under the effect of the grief-monger. He's more equipped to fight it off now, but he'll need your support. Talk to him."
[Thomas Taylor] ((come on shake it off Tommy boy...Willpower))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)
[Molly Quincannon] Molly nods and, when Thomas comes to a bit, she grins a little at him and says, "I ... actually found you some tea." With that, she holds up a bag of loose leaf breakfast tea and one of those little infusion balls. "This is not how I saw myself giving it to you, but ... well, there you go. And have you found any good pubs lately?"
[Thomas Taylor] He starts to cough and splutter as the water hits him, his one good eye opens...and his hand come to cover his face the pain from the cuts and head banging slamming it's way back into reality...
"....me...noggin...." Is all he can say right now the world still spinning, all he wanted was to go back asleep...he was still cold just not that consuming void he had before, the need to wander to jsut go...
[Natyana Wapanee] She puts the bottle back in her bag and looks to Wharil, then Thomas stirs and that catches her attention. She just stands back and lets them get sorted.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly smiles a little at Natyana, shrugs and leans closer to Thomas. "Okay, that's a start. Warming up any? Um ... oh, we should try ... how many fingers?" She holds up three in front of his face, just to check. "I think this is what they do on medical dramas."
[Thomas Taylor] He pushes himself up but only so he can lean against the wall. He looked a state, one eye half closed, a massive cut over his temple and more around the sides of his face. His ears looked red from the yanking or perhaps that's just the blood and his lip has busted open again. His eyes close as he takes a moment and there's that black finger print over his eye in startling contrast to the red liquid drying over his skin.
He looks up to Molly, the cockney is not smiling, he is still feeling it inside him, trying to make him Hollow...is that not ironic. Molly asked him a question, a few he thought he heard pub but does not respond right now.
His eye go to Natyana then to Wharil...his hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out a smoke, as he puts it tentatively in his mouth... "Put yer jazz down info-slut, I'll be..." He just shrugs, he is not sure what he will be, fine he hopes.
[Molly Quincannon] The name gets a weak chuckle and a roll of the eyes, and she moves to sit down next to him, putting the tea in his lap. "Fine? Robin? Embarrassed? Purple? What will you be?" She nudges his shoulder carefully with her own. "I'm hoping that the first two apply. So fill in the info-slut on what she missed, hmm? How's your day? And why is hockey for pussies, again?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She smirks and pushes the pack around and out of the way, shaking her head. "Where's my phone man? I handed it to you before I went after the piranha baby"
[Administrator] Peek, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Thomas Taylor] He does not smile, and it seems not to carry the humour she has seen from the man, true she only met him once but you doubted it was a show. "Hockey is apparently for chicks info-slut." He pulls out his brass zippo and lights his smoke once Molly has finished fussing over him, dropping things in his lap and shouldering him. He winces as smoke gets dragged through an open lip
He looks to the smaller woman again then back to Molly. "Does she..."
He just tried to waggle an eyebrow, alas all Molly saw was the swelling twitch.
He looks back to her "The road, by the..." The dead man, he should have no problems saying it, but for some reason he does.
[Wharil Choc] Wharil wasn't smiling either. He was peering at Thomas, looking for some kind of spark, or perhaps for something else?
He rubs his hands together as he speaks, spreading the soot over his palms evenly.
"You were with that man at the accident? You should know, there was something in him. Controlling him. Made him walk into traffic. Made sure everyone saw. You should know its in you, right now."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly snickers a little and does not entirely cease to fuss. She's supposed to keep him talking, but he's not engaging very well. And then the tall skinny guy whose name she still doesn't know speaks up and she sighs, dropping her head against the wall. "Seriously? I saw it go in him, but I thought you might have ... damn. I really had hoped it was just concussion, y'know."
Then, with a sigh, "Do you remember asking me to knock you out?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She had started to turn and go after her phone, but then stops. Eyes going to Wharil. "Do you have means to get it out? Or does he have to fight it off like I did. You caught mine before it got in."
[Thomas Taylor] He looks up to Wharil "Great, some strangers tells me somethings inside me, normally I 'ave to ring sum chick on the dog and pay outta the nose for that." He tries a smile it is dry, barely there like it does not reach his face.
He did a good deed, one good deed and look where it got him. "Look squire, 'ow can I get it outta me..." He tilts his head to Molly and offers her a smile, it is forced, blood starts flowing from the busted lip again as it cracks open with the gesture. "Moll, don't fret, course I do, you did robin...." His eyes go back to Wharil, he was obviously the one with the know. He tilts his head his ears were still ringing but he wanted to hear what Wharil said to Natyana.
[Administrator] gaping graduate students, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Administrator] a rock, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Wharil Choc] He nods, though he doesn't turn to Natyana. He's still got his eyes glued on Thomas.
"He has to fight it off. At least you're making an effort though. These things, they feed on grief. On negative emotions. You have to sort of...cheer up."
He shrugs, tilting his lips apologetically.
"You believe in meditation? Self actualization?" Two fingers go up to Wharil's own head, tapping at his temple.
"Go to your happy place."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly's Trad has a very broad definition of 'happy place', but some stereotypes have clung stronger than others. Molly doesn't fit the typical stereotype, but there are a few ideas that, in one form or another, cling strong. With an inward wince and a thought (I hope Chuck forgives me for this one...), she gently turns Thomas' head towards hers and kisses him. It's gentle, mindful of the damage to his face, and she's not exactly a fairy princess to lift a curse, but ... hey. For a journey to a happy place, a kiss isn't a bad way to start.
[Natyana Wapanee] She blinks. Once. Twice. Then swallows, and looks at Wharil. "Well alrighty then. Thank you for the help..... mister......?
[Thomas Taylor] He takes the cough from his lips as he looks like he was about to say something to Wharil when his face gets turned. His one eye squints at Molly as the smoke is blown from the side of his mouth "Pet, wat are ya...."Oh...hello!
He's not stop her, its a far better option than another wall beating, he knew it chicks dig a bloody man, so he just goes with the flow.... He can feel a touch of that void closing, some of that coldness fading....
If only she knew his really happy place was only a a couple of feet lower...
[Wharil Choc] Could they see it still, he wondered? Could they hear the squealing voice of the thing that looked like a child creeping its way out of his chest, clamoring to get out, to get away--
Only to have the sooty handed stranger grip it by its neck, just as he had last time.
The ambulance sirens are coming closer. People are beginning to drift away, traffic stirs sluggishly, and a man on the sidewalk is gripping a bundle of warm air to himself, turning closed eyes toward the sunshine, and singing in a strange language.
All kinds of crazies in this city.
[Molly Quincannon] Oh, Molly knows. Molly's neither naive nor virginal. However, even if this was where her heart lay, they're in public. This isn't lust, for her. It's love, yes, but of a friendlier kind - more like CPR than anything else. Sometimes, you have to reconnect to life. It's that simple.
She breaks the kiss, but stays within kissing distance as she looks at him. "Any easier?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She tenses. Yes. Yes indeed, she does see it. She looks at Wharil, then back to the two on the ground. "Are you gonna just... let it crawl around like that? It's kind of gross"
[Thomas Taylor] One eye blinks, as he grins to Molly "Told ya info-slut, Tommy 'as the charm, but we might want to go another round just to be sure pet? It is easier on the soul but tighter in me pants." He winks with his good eye, that spirit and passion is so back....
He taps her cheek gently as he glances to Wharil, there was that singing again.
[Wharil Choc] And then? Gone. Dust in the sky once again.
Wharil sighs, dusting off his hands.
"There. Not so bad, right?" He says with a smile. He turns toward the intersection as the ambulance pulls up, and the smile fades.
"Well, for you guys, anyway."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks over at the ambulance turning up, and then looks at Thomas. It's Wharil she answers first, though: "No. Not for some of us."
Then she smiles a little at Thomas and draws back. "I think you're okay. You sound a lot better. And I'm really sorry about your head..."
[Thomas Taylor] Tom's knees bend as he stands sliding up the wall using it as a support. He puts the cig back in his mouth and stagger towards Wharil putting his hand on his shoulder. "Look on the robin side, lil' fucker won't be doin' it again, all thanks to you, 'member that mate." He gives his shoulder a pat then staggers back to the wall.
"I need to get outta 'ere before the pigs show up, I don't look...well best term wud be respectable." He looks down to Molly. "Don't fret info-slut, no 'arm, no foul."
[Natyana Wapanee] She looks between the three, then turns. "Shit. My phone."
They seem to be sorting things, so would be a good time for her to slip off again. Least she won't have to listen to anymore midget references from the guy that has this amazing ability to have discussions that seem to end with fist-to-fast goodbyes. She looks to Wharil again as she walks over to pick up her phone.
[Administrator] a rock has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Molly Quincannon] On Thomas' mentioning how he looks, Molly looks through the smears on her glasses at the scrapes on her knuckles and the various spatters of blood and blanches. "I ... think I should probably go too. Um. Yeah. Later. Bye!" She gives Thomas one last remorseful, guilty, complicated look and then takes off for ... wherever the hell she's going.
What a way to make a first impression.
[Thomas Taylor] He waves his hand to Molly and looks to Wharil and then looks to find the little one, when he cannot see her his raises his voice "Look, thanks soot man, I owe ya one." He nods as using the wall he wanders away letting his mental blocks drop and his arcane spring into action, how else was he going to get home unnoticed.
What a fucking night...
[Administrator] Molly Quincannon has switched to Bronzeville (Southside) (Now)
[Natyana Wapanee] She scoops up her phone and moves back onto the sidewalk, blinking at the raised voice. She watches him wandering away, and shakes her head chuckling. "City life. Buncha freakin loons...."
She turns and heads for the trashcan, pulling her bag around again to dig out the empty bottle. Once that's done, she starts walking. No direction, just walks.
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Wharil Choc] There, crisis averted and world saved once more. He's still nameless among the four of them. And as foot traffic picks up again the pedestrians all sort of swim around him in that odd way, as if he barely even registered on their radars.
Which, in a way, is just the way he likes it.
[Administrator] gaping graduate students has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
Still the point was made who the hell in there right mind thinks baseball is better than football. He turns around and quite loudly "COME AND 'AVE A GO IF YOU THINK YOUR 'ARD E'NUFF!" He then sticks up two fingers and pulls a smoke from his pocket
[Natyana Wapanee] She stops, blinking at the outburst of the strange man. Her slow steps slow even more, and she simply watches.
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Administrator] Wharil Choc, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Thomas Taylor] He pulls out his zippo and puts it to his cough lighting it as he grimaces a moment as tobacco smoke mixes with his cut...still he blows the smoke upwards and turns to walk away nearly bumping straight into her, his eyes looking upwards he does not see her.
[Natyana Wapanee] Having been watching the fiery, yelling man, she has time to attempt to scramble out of the way. But with him having nearly two feet over her, a much longer leg clips hers and she frowns, doing a little hop to finish her attempt to move out of the way. "Watch it buddy"
[Thomas Taylor] "Whoa..." He jumps back, the cigarrtte nearly falling from his lips, but he does not loose it that easily just keeping his grip on it. He takes a step back...then another...fuck me it's a midget he tries to keep that realisation from his face but some of it fades through. his right hand comes to his lips and pulls the cig from them. His left hand comes to his side and a little bit in front of him "Sorry miss...." What do you say when you were not looking "Did not see you..." Bravo Tommy, bravo.
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Natyana Wapanee] An eyebrow twitches at him, and she gives him a little bit of a smirk. She knows the looks. You don't have to have empathy when you see them constantly. "Yeah, I know. It's fine, I'm used to it. You uh... got a little blood there" Scratches her finger lightly on her chin.
[Wharil Choc] With this many in a city it was easy to go overlooked. Too easy, in fact. Too much for a soul to take. Loneliness creeps in like cold under the door. Like a draft in winter. It cuts straight through you, down to the bone, and no matter what you do you simply can't make yourself warm again.
In the winter, its hard to notice it in other people. Everyone has the same bowed head, bent back walk. Everyone has the same self-hug, the same urgency to simply get where they're going and not be fucking stopped in the street by some jackass who doesn't really give a damn about them. In winter, everyone wants to be left alone. But in summer, when the sky is blue you can always tell when others are as well. You see them coming from blocks away. Take this guy for example. He obviously hasn't shaved in days. Smells like he hasn't had a bath in even longer. And he's got that bowed head, bent back walk that winter people do, despite his flip-flops and short jeans, and exposed arms under a dingy wife beater.
He's muttering something to himself, but as he passes the short woman and the taller man who'd almost walked over her, it sounds more like whining. Like mournful complaining.
"...You can't make yourself warm again..." He says. As well as "Their eyes aren't as sharp as their fucking teeth!"
He keeps walking. The gathering pedestrians wait at the corner. Delivery vans and taxis and folks picking their kids up from school to drop them off at karate practice all stream past in a non-stop flow of traffic. Their light is green, and the pedestrian light is orange, gleaming back 'Don't Walk'.
But the winter-walking man just keeps on walking.
[Thomas Taylor] He brings his left hand up and runs his thumb over his chin, a small redness in his cheeks at the noticing. "Yeah pet, sum thugs you know 'ow it is, so many heathens need to be corrected of there sinners path." He smirks taking another drag from his gig as he chooses widely to blow the smoke from his nose...less pain.
He gives her the one glance over "Look i am sorry, bad form pet, my bad were all robins right?" He puts his hand to his chest then gesture to her....
[Natyana Wapanee] Her eyes catch the muttering, hunched man, and she starts backing up a little. Eyes going back to Thomas quickly, and harden a little. "You do realize, calling me 'pet' sort of negates the whole apology coming off genuine, right?" Another smirk, and a wave of her hand at him. "Long as you call me something other than midget references, yeah sure. But keep that up and I'll have to headbutt you in the kneecap"
[Thomas Taylor] He felt that shiver up his spine, a nervousness creeping into him that was uncommon, not natural. His eyes look to the man then back to the woman "I call everyone pet...pet...." He takes a deep drag of his cough.
His head turns after the man a small comment in passing "You might need a blanket squire, 'elps with the potatoes out 'ere."
[Wharil Choc] The first car honks its horn long before the thud. The body's in the air when the tires from the second car squeal, but that doesn't keep the body from knocking spiderweb patterns into the windshield. The man makes it across the road at least. The pedestrians on this side of the street are shocked, hands over their mouths and staring wide eyed at one another. The pedestrians on the other side of the street are horrified. They all jump back in unison as the man lands on the sidewalk, his face and arms mangled, networked in blood. His leg twisted around. His teeth drip from his mouth as he continues trying to speak. His voice is still a complaint. Still a step below weeping.
The cars stop, which means the cars that were following them stop as well, which means that, temporarily at least, the cars that were moving perpendicularly stop as well. A crowd forms. People come out of stores and bars just to see the commotion, and add to it.
The man on the ground trembles and bleeds. No one helps him. No one seems to want to even touch him.
[Administrator] .Oo, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Natyana Wapanee] She starts to say something to Thomas, shooting a not so happy look about being referred to as pet. Yet again. But then there's this cacophony of horns and screeching tires that pulls her attention back to the heebie jeebie man.
Her jaw drops. Her eyes widen. "oh shit..." And her feet are moving. The others might just gawk, but she'll at least dig for a cellphone to call an ambulance with
[Administrator] .Oo has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Thomas Taylor] He blinks, mouth drops as this time the smoke does fall on the floor....like everyone else shock comes in as he watches like it was a TV and soon someone will run on and save the day, or the scene will change and we'll be in the hospital...
But it does not, then the adrenaline kicksas can he really just stand there and do nothing as the midget passes him he curses himself... “Sumbody fuckin’ ‘elp ‘im then!”he shouts as Tom runs out into the road hands banging on the car bonnets as he runs past to make sure they stay put as he stops by the man and looks down, smoke still pouring from his lungs and out of his nose. He goes to one knee...he had nothing for this, his voice caught in his throat. “...You’ll be okay squire, tis only a flesh wound.”The lie detectable on his lips....
[Natyana Wapanee] [least he landed on the side of traffic where she can see him.... perc + aware]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Administrator] Inconspicuous Turnip, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Thomas Taylor] ((Can he see anything but blood))
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wharil Choc] Its so very faint. So oddly innocuous. But its certainly there. There's a child in the crowd, huddled near the dying man. His skin is dark and ashen, and he holds himself in a low crouch, knees to chest, sheltering himself in ways that his tattered t-shirt and ragged, dirty shorts cannot. He looks around at the crowd, too frightened to move. And then, when Thomas approaches, he scurries back a few steps.
Seeing the crowd suddenly he scurries back forward and places both hands on his head, shuddering with ragged breaths and wide, frightened eyes.
***
Meanwhile, broken fingers reach Thomas, grabbing at his shirt collar, at his neck. It almost seemed like he was trying to pull himself up. Like he could fight through the pain of having his leg turned the wrong way and his face smashed in. He'd be fine. Just get him on his feet and he'd be fine.
But he's obviously not fine. Blood forms bubbles around his nostrils upon exhale. One could only imagine what it was doing to him when he inhaled. One could only imagine all the places that blood was coming from.
"I'm c-c-cold." He complains to Thomas. And his grip, instead of pulling him up, pulled Thomas down. Pulling him down like a drowning man. Like a dying man.
[Natyana Wapanee] It takes her a moment, but she does catch the child out of the corner of her eye. Thomas easily passing her with his much longer strides, though she's not far behind him. He's dealing with the man, and she looks around, wincing a bit, and she does indeed keep some distance.
Her eyes go to the child again. Child... dying man.... freaking out child.... dying man. "Fuck me." She hands Thomas the phone "I have it dialed, just hit send." And she weaves through people, heading for the kid
[Administrator] Molly Quincannon, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Molly Quincannon] Molly's actually out and about! With minimal bandages! Her knees bend and everything! So out she goes to do some shopping and enjoy the office-mandated time off.
And there's Thomas. Being pulled to the ground by ... okay, something's going on. She doesn't know the other person - the one dashing off elsewhere (and she's Curious, oh yes) - but she knows Thomas. She's curious about that too, and she knows the person being hauled down to the ground by someone who looks like he's been on the wrong side of a car wreck. So down the street she dashes in the general direction of Thomas - no first aid to speak of, but... "Um ... what the holy hell? Did someone dial 911?"
[Thomas Taylor] He does not get chance to move as the bloody hands grab his collar his eyes widen, then his right hand fall on instinct to stop him slamming onto the man, it lands with a slap in fresh blood as he holds himself there. He was not afraid of blood, he has seen and had his fair share but the coldness, that was new that was different. Then suddenly a phone is placed in his other hand, distracted he is dragged closer to the dying man blood from nose, mouth, his cries starting to speckle Tom's cheek.
But Thomas knew the world was fucked it was all going to end, thats the point the war was lost, the dreams had died.
What do you say to a dying man, what comfort can you give someone on deaths door that may only have seconds to live.... when it feels like he might take you with him "Dude, everythin' will be...robin...got the fixers on the dog..."
One phone close to his ear, his right hand stopping his decent onto the man body covered in his blood, red speckles starting to pop on his cheek....he had not even been here a week....
[Molly Quincannon] [[Perc + Aware]]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Administrator] Inconspicuous Turnip has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Wharil Choc] The child doesn't see Natyana coming. He remains curled up. Shuddering.
***
"Sharper...than their...eyes."
These are the last things the man says. Slowly the bubbles from his nose and mouth stop streaming. Slowly his grip on Thomas's collar relinquishes. Slowly his chests and shoulders stop jerking and shuddering. His eyes remain open. His face relaxes.
And there's an odd sort of coldness that starts to fill Thomas's body. Slowly.
***
As Molly rushes over, there's some kind of movement in the corner of her eyes. The crowd remains at bay, staring at the only soul brave enough to not let a man die alone. The movement isn't from any of them. And yet, it comes from their direction.
It looks like a child. Bald headed. Ashen skin. It carries itself low to the ground. Sickly looking, stick thin arms and legs propel it in a sort of scurry. Its eyes seem so sad. So frightened. And yet, it reaches out as if comforting, and places a hand on Thomas's back.
[Natyana Wapanee] She drops low to the ground, not that that's an overly huge feat, and slips close to the child. "Kid... hey kid... where's your parents? You shouldn't be here with all this...."
At least some kind of shot at warning she's coming so she doesn't scare him too bad just popping up. The man is dying... not a chance for her to try and save him with all the gawkers. Try to save the child is her other option.
[Molly Quincannon] Well. That's ... bizarre. Molly doesn't have a spit's worth of Spirit, but this? This doesn't look normal. And it's reaching out for Thomas and she doesn't know what for and this is hardly the time to ask about it because there are way too many witnesses and she doesn't even know if they register this thing or not. However, there's a thing about personal space and creeping up on people and while part of her reckons that this might be a comfort issue on the part of the ... whatever-it-is ... she doubts it. She's not that overconfident when it comes to other people.
Thus Molly, with her usual overconfident air, barges through the crowd, kneels right next to Thomas and puts her own hand in the area of his back in what might be taken by the crowd for the sort of gesture of comfort this ... child-like thing is trying to give. However, what she's actually doing is removing the thing's hand from Thomas' back and keeping a hold on it. She'd rather be touching it than having Thomas be touched by it. If it's doing anything, she can cope with it. Thomas, taken unaware, might not be.
Why no, with the week she's had, Molly is not feeling particularly less than paranoid, why do you ask?
[Thomas Taylor] ((Willpower!))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 8)
[Wharil Choc] The child starts at first, then turns big, frightened eyes to Natyana. He goes straight to her, arms open wide, clinging to her in a desperate embrace.
His entire body is so very cold.
***
The hand that Molly moved to touch suddenly moves away. And the child scampers squirrel like around the other of Thomas's head. It whimpers slightly, looking back at Molly with those sad eyes...
And then hisses at her with a mouthful of tiny baby teeth. The hands seem to grip tighter at Thomas's flesh, until the tips sink in. Deeper, and deeper, and in moments its gone.
[Wharil Choc] And the cold creeping over Thomas's body grows. It spreads, giving him goose flesh. And it grows deeper. To the bone. To somewhere deeper, somewhere that simple physical cold doesn 't usually touch.
A man has died before his very eyes. This might not be new to him, but it does remind him, somehow, of every other time it has happened. And of every time its happened to someone else. And of every time anyone, anywhere, has died. It reminds him of the toy he lost as a child and could never find again. It reminds him of the child that he once was, and can never find again. It reminds him so strongly of loss that the only thing he can think of doing is leaving this place. Getting away from all this death. Walk, and weep, and keep walking until its all gone.
And its so, very cold today.
to Thomas Taylor
[Natyana Wapanee] [creepy cold kid]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Thomas Taylor] Thomas stands, slowly, with the bloody hand he goes into his pocket as he pulls out a cig and places it in his lips, red bloody fingerprints staining the otherwise bright white. The phone gets dropped by the cockney as the hand goes into his pocket and pulls out his zippo. Then he turns with nothing to say and starts walking...
He lights the smoke, it was so damn cold...
[Wharil Choc] The crowd buzzes with the same sort of murmuring as before. Newcomers come, they see a crowd. They see blood. They ask what happened and someone fills them in and the murmuring continues. All eyes are on the dead body on the ground, attention fixed there like some morbid beacon.
But there's also something else. From somewhere among the crowd, there's humming. Someone's voice calling out over the din of the chaos in a slow, low-toned dirge.
***
The child in Natyana's arms huddles itself close, and her body becomes more cold because of it. His bare feet chill her ribs as his legs wrap around her, and his fingers sink deep into her shoulder.
It hurts. Enough to get her attention. Hurts enough to let her know she was alive.
[Molly Quincannon] Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Okay, there's nothing to be done for the dead. Sad, but true. When Thomas drops the phone and stands, she stands with him, and when he walks away, she doesn't even pause to tell someone to ring someone else. There's nothing to be done for the dead, but there's something to be done for the living and she's not letting Thomas go far without finding out what the hell is going on with Thomas.
Thus she follows Thomas. More, she breaks into a run to catch up and get ahead of him so she can grab him by the shoulders and hopefully make him stop. Even more hopefully, meet his eyes. "Thomas? Thomas, talk to me, okay? What's going on? What just happened? That ... that thing just sunk its fingers in you! What do you feel? Thomas, fuck, don't make me slap you."
Then the humming starts and her hands involuntarily tighten on his shoulders, hard enough to dig into his flesh. Frankly, she's terrified. "Fuck that; if you don't talk to me right now, I am going to punch you."
[Natyana Wapanee] She gasps, eyes going wide. Ok... shock can make a person gold... but this? This isn't natural. This is just... wrong. She staggers back, hands going to the child's sides and tries to pull it off. His fingers digging in getting a wince from her.
"Hey... heyheyhey it's ok.... ease up kiddo, huh? That's skin, and I'm kind of attached to it. Where's your mom or dad?" She turns, eyes looking for anyone that might seem to be looking for him, and she narrows her eyes. The humming... what....? "the fuck is going on....?" the thought train winds up falling out of her mouth
[Thomas Taylor] ((WP Spent)) Thomas looks to her, all that fun, that lovable rougue she saw is gone, those blue eyes like the winters ice sucking all heat, smoke bellows from his nose as she feels him push against her. His eyes suddenly focus a moment like he can hear her
"Tis the brass out 'ere info-slut, want...no need to start wanderin'....jesus so fuckin cold, it's...'"
Then it is gone the eyes glaze over again like frozen in ice and he goes to move out of her grasp, no effort hardly any force just the resigned steps of a man walking towards the end...
"It's so fuckin' brass"
[Natyana Wapanee] [anyone got a crowbar handy?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7)
[Administrator] Peeker, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Molly Quincannon] It's the middle of summer. It's over 90 degrees outside. What the fuck is he talking about?
Suffice to say that she is not letting him go. He's going to need to put a bit of effort in if he wants to get away from Molly at this point. In fact, she shakes him by the shoulders as hard as she can when his eyes glaze over again. "No, Thomas, look at me! No friend worth a shit would let anyone who looked like you wander around on their own and ... oh, fuckit."
She doesn't have Mind. She doesn't have Spirit. She doesn't have much of anything that would help in this situation. So instead of that, she slaps him as hard as she can, while keeping the other clenched firmly on his shoulder. She resumes the two-handed grip of his shoulders as soon as she can, ignoring the sting of her palm, and says, "You're not. Going. Anywhere. It is ninety-four degrees out here. It is not. Cold. There is something wrong. And the only place you're going from here is my place, if you really feel like you need to wander. Because you're not leaving my sight to end up like the ... like him." She doesn't point to emphasise the point; she simply lifts his hand, the one not holding the cigarette, to show the bloodstains on it. "So if you can do a bit of the Potterific to wake the hell up, then for Kibo's sake do it!"
[Wharil Choc] There's a man there now, standing over the dead body. Its summer but he's wearing a sports jacket all the same, black, and black slacks and hair to match. He too has hair the color of ravens wings. He too has skin that is bronzed, but not from the sun. He too kneels and touches a hand at the dead man's chest, not shying away from the blood.
Then he turns and scans the crowd, and his eyes land on Natyana, spotting her somehow, even below all the heads and the bodies. He pushes through them now, heading straight for her. He's humming.
The child turns toward the approaching man. Natyana can see now: those eyes, those frightened, sad eyes, they don't move the way normal eyes move. They're fixed in their sockets, fixed to look wide. And they pupils never change their pin-prick focus.
Something the man had said. Something about their eyes, and their teeth.
The child gets nervous, and Natyana warms. Not physically, but emotionally. Perhaps that pain gave her the jolt that she needed. Whatever it is, the combination seems discomforting. It opens its mouth, revealing ivory white baby teeth, and it whines as if in pain. As if from terror. It tries to dig its fingers further, but they barely scratch the surface of her skin.
[Wharil Choc] ITS HARV!!!!
to Peeker
[Thomas Taylor] His head turns a swift right, an audible slap resounding around them as his cig close flying in to the road. His head hangs to the side, a red bleemish already starting to show, he grins, faintly, ever so slightly, barely a touch on his lips.
It is not the first slap he has taken, it hopefully will not be the last but...a fire a memory...
((WP spent)) He looks back to her, a dim light in his eyes "If your goin' to knock me out then hurry up and knock me the fuck out info-slut...this thing is eatin' at my..."
Once more, those eyes glaze over save this time he puts a hand on her shoulder, muscles tense as he shoves her out of the way, injury or no injury nothing can stop him
"All those fuckin'sharp teeth...." He goes to move on, to wander till it ends....
[Natyana Wapanee] Too... many... things.... bouncing.... attention......
Her feels the weight of the man's gaze, and turns to look at him, but the child moving shifts her attention. She sees now, those strange eyes.. and... teeth? Shit. Teeth. What the fuck is that? "Awwww fuck. Kid don't do this. Lemme go, before something really bad happens..." She starts moving backwards, away from the man that approaches... too much attention. Can't think. Can't breathe. Pain... pain is good.
There's a clammy freaky piranha child trying to make itself a growth on my tits and the jolly black creepy limo driver heading my way. Maybe he'll bring the vaseline?
She grunts and wedges her hands palm out between her and the kid and shoves. Hard as she can.
[Peeker] Sup Dre! Just a lookin' in 'n watchin' heh
to Wharil Choc
[Wharil Choc] The kid holds on for dear life, even though is fingers slip against her skin. Even though she pushes it away from herself, it holds on to the pushing hand. It was like trying to get rid of a monkey. Or a very persistent squirrel.
His fingertips are black. She notices this when he grabs the child by the neck and plucks it off her like fruit from a tree. It struggles. It lets out a choked scream and those sad, pleading eyes begin to water.
The man...sings. The song is not in English or Spanish or French. The song is in a tongue that sounds like falling rocks and snapping twigs. He sings, and squeezes harder.
Moments later, it is gone. Dust that falls upward. Someone in the crowd eyes him with a 'wierdo' look, but soon seems to forget.
"Are you okay?" He says, turning to Natyana. He looks at her sidelong, curiously. "You saw it, didn't you? Yeah. You were fighting with the grief-monger."
[Molly Quincannon] Everything Thomas says gets stored in the hard drive that passes for her memory. He's not registering much, but she's not that strong; if he's trying to move her, he will move her, though the minute he puts a hand on her shoulder, she sets her feet to make sure he can't move her much. So when she shoves him, it's sideways, with a foot outstretched and a guiding hand shoving his head towards the nearest wall. Her fists won't do it to knock him out, but she knows full well how much a smack of the head against a wall can scramble the mental circuitry. Not three days ago, it cost her a few layers of skin on her legs, after all.
No matter how necessary this is, she mutters, "...sorry..." as he goes down.
[Natyana Wapanee] She just sort of.... stares. What is there to say when someone just comes strolling up and turns little boys to dust infront of your eyes? Not the weirdest thing she's seen, but definitely up there.
She nods, a little slack jawed still, then finally blinks her eyes and looks back towards the now dead man. "Shit. That guy, where'd he go?" Not likely referring to the dead man.. who... for obvious reasons wouldn't be getting up to wander off
[Molly Quincannon] [[Um, yeah; Dex + Brawl + WP = please dear gods let me take him down...]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Thomas Taylor] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wharil Choc] "Someone else? Near the dead man?"
His brows furrow as he tries to look through the crowd again, but this time it seems he can't.
"We have to find him. Lets hope he hasn't gotten far." He says, and grabs Natyana by the hand as he starts pushing through the crowd.
[Thomas Taylor] ((WP spent))His head hits the wall with a slam, blood trails down the wall as he falls to his knees, a coughing then a small chuckle from his lips...He had taken a hit earlier he was feeling both now his eyes starting to show two of everything
"Kick me in the fuckin' head info-slut, for fucks sake DO IT, hockey is for fuckin' pussies!"
He turns offering his head to her, one sharp kick should do it....his eyes already loosing that passion... "'ave a go if you think yer 'ard..."
It cuts off, he looks like he is trying to stand
[Molly Quincannon] [[And with the Dex + Brawl again. And the WP again.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]
[Natyana Wapanee] She blinks at the strange man, nodding, and pumps those little sausage legs to keep up. "I didn't get a name, but he was with the road kill when I went to check on the freaking out kid. Gave him my phone to call an ambulance" Her eyes move around, but she frowns and shakes her head. Too much crowd, too many tall objects
[Thomas Taylor] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Molly Quincannon] The 'hockey is for fuckin' pussies' thing does not cut it. Molly will get into bar fights when necessary, she will beat up on people when necessary, and this is as necessary as it gets...
But that doesn't mean she likes it. She's kind of afraid she's going to kill him, but she hasn't got any choice, so when she kicks him, it's steel toe-cap first, right to the temple. This may or may not be a manoeuvre she's used before. It seems practiced enough, and it also serves to slam his head into the wall again. He may not lose consciousness, but three hits to the head probably means he's not going to be moving too far any time soon. Still, just to be on the safe side, when he's down, she goes as far as to sit on him. He'll have to squirm a lot more than his current state suggests he should be able to if he wants to get up now.
"...I miss my stompy boots and suddenly hate my life..."
[Thomas Taylor] instinct take over and even in his cold state he rolls with the blow some blood already built up from the nose sprays onto Molly and the wall.
He is back on the floor at least but still concious, he could feel it eating at him, taking all that passion, taking every life lost, taking all his toys...she sits on him and for the mment he is pinned stars circle his eyes, blackness offering it's sweet release but thats the thing about darkness...it was cold so damn fucking cold
((WP Spent)) He screams, "FOR FUCKS SAKE, KNOCK ME OUT!!!!"
[Molly Quincannon] [[And again; this is going to be a very tired Molly and Thomas when all is said and done.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]
[Thomas Taylor] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Molly Quincannon] "I am trying, you collosal ning-nong! It's not my fault you've got such a freakin' hard head!"
Molly is frustrated, and she is tired, and this was going to be such a nice day...
"Now shut up and go down!"
At which point she grabs him by both ears and slams the back of his head into the wall behind them as hard as she can.
[Thomas Taylor] ((Well you cannot botch a soak, but I think it is more than enough to take him down, 6 in total including what he took earlier))
Finally he goes down, she hears a thud which turns into a nasty sounding squelch his body goes limp beneath her, blood from his mouth and nose leaking onto the floor, a red stain where she planted his head. One eye already swelling and grit and grim from the wall, her boot and the floor scattered across his face...
He looks relieved or peaceful, those eyes closed those cold eyes finally shut from the world....
[Natyana Wapanee] Her head tilts at the sound of Thomas's yelling. She staggers a little, and pulls on the man's hand. "This way. I hear him"
[Molly Quincannon] There's blood on Molly's hands. On her face. Smeared across the lenses of her glasses. Thomas is out and, judging from the blood on the back of his head (Try not to panic; it's probably just a scalp wound. Scalp wounds bleed like a bitch, Floyd always said...), he's going to stay that way. So she stops sitting on him, shifting over to sit beside him instead, and takes off her glasses in an attempt to clean them. Unfortunately, there's blood on her T-shirt too, so even when she puts them back on, most of what she's seeing is smears of a friend's blood.
She buries her head in her hands and starts muttering, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."
[Natyana Wapanee] "Something tells me he's used to getting slapped" Smirks, shrugging. She squats down, not like she really needed to, but Molly's on the ground so it only seemed polite. Or something resembling that. "It's the reason your buddy here needed his ass kicked by a girl so he didn't go do anything stupid. It was leeching the warm and fuzzy out of him"
[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks over at the new mage and nods. "Yeah, I got that impression. He kept talking about how cold it was. It's ninety-something degrees. That's just freakish. I guess the wonderful world of Umbra is a bit on the twisty side just now? That's so never been my thing..."
[Natyana Wapanee] "It's not pretty over there, that's for sure. These things seem to be... I guess you could say reproducing from spreading that icky cold. This guy just walked up and plucked the kid off me, that humming thing he's doing is like nails on a chalkboard to them." She turns her eyes to watch the strange man and Thomas
[Wharil Choc] "Its a mourners chant." He says finally, breaking into the conversation in progress. "The grief mongers can only survive in the presence of certain emotions. Its why they look the way they look. Why they do what they do. Comfort the grief in the host, and they can't survive."
He peels Thomas's eyes open, looking into them. A dark smudge is left on his lids when he's done.
"That's it. That's all I can do. We have to wake him up. He's got to do the rest."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly winces. "Um ... so much not my department. Um ... sorry, what's your name? You haven't got anything that could help, have you? Best I can manage is a bottle of Mountain Dew poured on his face, and that'd just be nasty in his condition."
[Natyana Wapanee] She thinks about it for a minute, then pulls her little backpack around and pulls out a bottle of water. Pops the cap. "Natyana. What's yours? And that's actually up my alley about three blocks over. I deal with... well not those things. Never seen em before." She holds the bottle out and turns it upside down over Thomas's face.
She looks over at the man. "Thank you creepy tall guy"
[Wharil Choc] "I'm not that tall." He says curtly, then turns to Molly.
"You know this man, right? When he wakes up he'll still be under the effect of the grief-monger. He's more equipped to fight it off now, but he'll need your support. Talk to him."
[Thomas Taylor] ((come on shake it off Tommy boy...Willpower))
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4)
[Molly Quincannon] Molly nods and, when Thomas comes to a bit, she grins a little at him and says, "I ... actually found you some tea." With that, she holds up a bag of loose leaf breakfast tea and one of those little infusion balls. "This is not how I saw myself giving it to you, but ... well, there you go. And have you found any good pubs lately?"
[Thomas Taylor] He starts to cough and splutter as the water hits him, his one good eye opens...and his hand come to cover his face the pain from the cuts and head banging slamming it's way back into reality...
"....me...noggin...." Is all he can say right now the world still spinning, all he wanted was to go back asleep...he was still cold just not that consuming void he had before, the need to wander to jsut go...
[Natyana Wapanee] She puts the bottle back in her bag and looks to Wharil, then Thomas stirs and that catches her attention. She just stands back and lets them get sorted.
[Molly Quincannon] Molly smiles a little at Natyana, shrugs and leans closer to Thomas. "Okay, that's a start. Warming up any? Um ... oh, we should try ... how many fingers?" She holds up three in front of his face, just to check. "I think this is what they do on medical dramas."
[Thomas Taylor] He pushes himself up but only so he can lean against the wall. He looked a state, one eye half closed, a massive cut over his temple and more around the sides of his face. His ears looked red from the yanking or perhaps that's just the blood and his lip has busted open again. His eyes close as he takes a moment and there's that black finger print over his eye in startling contrast to the red liquid drying over his skin.
He looks up to Molly, the cockney is not smiling, he is still feeling it inside him, trying to make him Hollow...is that not ironic. Molly asked him a question, a few he thought he heard pub but does not respond right now.
His eye go to Natyana then to Wharil...his hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out a smoke, as he puts it tentatively in his mouth... "Put yer jazz down info-slut, I'll be..." He just shrugs, he is not sure what he will be, fine he hopes.
[Molly Quincannon] The name gets a weak chuckle and a roll of the eyes, and she moves to sit down next to him, putting the tea in his lap. "Fine? Robin? Embarrassed? Purple? What will you be?" She nudges his shoulder carefully with her own. "I'm hoping that the first two apply. So fill in the info-slut on what she missed, hmm? How's your day? And why is hockey for pussies, again?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She smirks and pushes the pack around and out of the way, shaking her head. "Where's my phone man? I handed it to you before I went after the piranha baby"
[Administrator] Peek, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Thomas Taylor] He does not smile, and it seems not to carry the humour she has seen from the man, true she only met him once but you doubted it was a show. "Hockey is apparently for chicks info-slut." He pulls out his brass zippo and lights his smoke once Molly has finished fussing over him, dropping things in his lap and shouldering him. He winces as smoke gets dragged through an open lip
He looks to the smaller woman again then back to Molly. "Does she..."
He just tried to waggle an eyebrow, alas all Molly saw was the swelling twitch.
He looks back to her "The road, by the..." The dead man, he should have no problems saying it, but for some reason he does.
[Wharil Choc] Wharil wasn't smiling either. He was peering at Thomas, looking for some kind of spark, or perhaps for something else?
He rubs his hands together as he speaks, spreading the soot over his palms evenly.
"You were with that man at the accident? You should know, there was something in him. Controlling him. Made him walk into traffic. Made sure everyone saw. You should know its in you, right now."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly snickers a little and does not entirely cease to fuss. She's supposed to keep him talking, but he's not engaging very well. And then the tall skinny guy whose name she still doesn't know speaks up and she sighs, dropping her head against the wall. "Seriously? I saw it go in him, but I thought you might have ... damn. I really had hoped it was just concussion, y'know."
Then, with a sigh, "Do you remember asking me to knock you out?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She had started to turn and go after her phone, but then stops. Eyes going to Wharil. "Do you have means to get it out? Or does he have to fight it off like I did. You caught mine before it got in."
[Thomas Taylor] He looks up to Wharil "Great, some strangers tells me somethings inside me, normally I 'ave to ring sum chick on the dog and pay outta the nose for that." He tries a smile it is dry, barely there like it does not reach his face.
He did a good deed, one good deed and look where it got him. "Look squire, 'ow can I get it outta me..." He tilts his head to Molly and offers her a smile, it is forced, blood starts flowing from the busted lip again as it cracks open with the gesture. "Moll, don't fret, course I do, you did robin...." His eyes go back to Wharil, he was obviously the one with the know. He tilts his head his ears were still ringing but he wanted to hear what Wharil said to Natyana.
[Administrator] gaping graduate students, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Administrator] a rock, welcome to Magnificent Mile (North Side) (Now)
[Wharil Choc] He nods, though he doesn't turn to Natyana. He's still got his eyes glued on Thomas.
"He has to fight it off. At least you're making an effort though. These things, they feed on grief. On negative emotions. You have to sort of...cheer up."
He shrugs, tilting his lips apologetically.
"You believe in meditation? Self actualization?" Two fingers go up to Wharil's own head, tapping at his temple.
"Go to your happy place."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly's Trad has a very broad definition of 'happy place', but some stereotypes have clung stronger than others. Molly doesn't fit the typical stereotype, but there are a few ideas that, in one form or another, cling strong. With an inward wince and a thought (I hope Chuck forgives me for this one...), she gently turns Thomas' head towards hers and kisses him. It's gentle, mindful of the damage to his face, and she's not exactly a fairy princess to lift a curse, but ... hey. For a journey to a happy place, a kiss isn't a bad way to start.
[Natyana Wapanee] She blinks. Once. Twice. Then swallows, and looks at Wharil. "Well alrighty then. Thank you for the help..... mister......?
[Thomas Taylor] He takes the cough from his lips as he looks like he was about to say something to Wharil when his face gets turned. His one eye squints at Molly as the smoke is blown from the side of his mouth "Pet, wat are ya...."Oh...hello!
He's not stop her, its a far better option than another wall beating, he knew it chicks dig a bloody man, so he just goes with the flow.... He can feel a touch of that void closing, some of that coldness fading....
If only she knew his really happy place was only a a couple of feet lower...
[Wharil Choc] Could they see it still, he wondered? Could they hear the squealing voice of the thing that looked like a child creeping its way out of his chest, clamoring to get out, to get away--
Only to have the sooty handed stranger grip it by its neck, just as he had last time.
The ambulance sirens are coming closer. People are beginning to drift away, traffic stirs sluggishly, and a man on the sidewalk is gripping a bundle of warm air to himself, turning closed eyes toward the sunshine, and singing in a strange language.
All kinds of crazies in this city.
[Molly Quincannon] Oh, Molly knows. Molly's neither naive nor virginal. However, even if this was where her heart lay, they're in public. This isn't lust, for her. It's love, yes, but of a friendlier kind - more like CPR than anything else. Sometimes, you have to reconnect to life. It's that simple.
She breaks the kiss, but stays within kissing distance as she looks at him. "Any easier?"
[Natyana Wapanee] She tenses. Yes. Yes indeed, she does see it. She looks at Wharil, then back to the two on the ground. "Are you gonna just... let it crawl around like that? It's kind of gross"
[Thomas Taylor] One eye blinks, as he grins to Molly "Told ya info-slut, Tommy 'as the charm, but we might want to go another round just to be sure pet? It is easier on the soul but tighter in me pants." He winks with his good eye, that spirit and passion is so back....
He taps her cheek gently as he glances to Wharil, there was that singing again.
[Wharil Choc] And then? Gone. Dust in the sky once again.
Wharil sighs, dusting off his hands.
"There. Not so bad, right?" He says with a smile. He turns toward the intersection as the ambulance pulls up, and the smile fades.
"Well, for you guys, anyway."
[Molly Quincannon] Molly looks over at the ambulance turning up, and then looks at Thomas. It's Wharil she answers first, though: "No. Not for some of us."
Then she smiles a little at Thomas and draws back. "I think you're okay. You sound a lot better. And I'm really sorry about your head..."
[Thomas Taylor] Tom's knees bend as he stands sliding up the wall using it as a support. He puts the cig back in his mouth and stagger towards Wharil putting his hand on his shoulder. "Look on the robin side, lil' fucker won't be doin' it again, all thanks to you, 'member that mate." He gives his shoulder a pat then staggers back to the wall.
"I need to get outta 'ere before the pigs show up, I don't look...well best term wud be respectable." He looks down to Molly. "Don't fret info-slut, no 'arm, no foul."
[Natyana Wapanee] She looks between the three, then turns. "Shit. My phone."
They seem to be sorting things, so would be a good time for her to slip off again. Least she won't have to listen to anymore midget references from the guy that has this amazing ability to have discussions that seem to end with fist-to-fast goodbyes. She looks to Wharil again as she walks over to pick up her phone.
[Administrator] a rock has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Molly Quincannon] On Thomas' mentioning how he looks, Molly looks through the smears on her glasses at the scrapes on her knuckles and the various spatters of blood and blanches. "I ... think I should probably go too. Um. Yeah. Later. Bye!" She gives Thomas one last remorseful, guilty, complicated look and then takes off for ... wherever the hell she's going.
What a way to make a first impression.
[Thomas Taylor] He waves his hand to Molly and looks to Wharil and then looks to find the little one, when he cannot see her his raises his voice "Look, thanks soot man, I owe ya one." He nods as using the wall he wanders away letting his mental blocks drop and his arcane spring into action, how else was he going to get home unnoticed.
What a fucking night...
[Administrator] Molly Quincannon has switched to Bronzeville (Southside) (Now)
[Natyana Wapanee] She scoops up her phone and moves back onto the sidewalk, blinking at the raised voice. She watches him wandering away, and shakes her head chuckling. "City life. Buncha freakin loons...."
She turns and heads for the trashcan, pulling her bag around again to dig out the empty bottle. Once that's done, she starts walking. No direction, just walks.
[Administrator] Thomas Taylor has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
[Wharil Choc] There, crisis averted and world saved once more. He's still nameless among the four of them. And as foot traffic picks up again the pedestrians all sort of swim around him in that odd way, as if he barely even registered on their radars.
Which, in a way, is just the way he likes it.
[Administrator] gaping graduate students has left Magnificent Mile (North Side)
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