Logs:Smart

Smart
Dramatis Personae Marrow, Samara
In Absentia	2019-06-19 "Yeah well sometimes the thing you find ain't the thing you thought you were lookin' for."
Location <NYC> Guerrilla Garden - Lower East Side
Situated on the lot directly adjacent to the distinctive sleek form of the Mendel Clinic, this space was once abandoned. The chainlink fence around it is still rusty, dilapidated, and the signs affixed to it less than welcoming -- rusty as well, once reading KEEP OUT, and PRIVATE PROPERTY, though they've since been graffiti'd over -- a raised fist clutching a carrot painted over one, and PRIVATE X'd out to read COMMON on the other. A slitted gap has been cut out of the fence to allow for entrance. Neat and cleaned of any garbage and weeds, the once-abandoned lot has been rebuilt. Packing crates have been broken down for their wood to create raised beds full of rich soil, each bed neatly tilled and tended. Stakes label the different plants growing -- a wealth of vegetables growing three seasons of the year in the carefully tended soil. Around the edges of the lot, smaller beds have had brightly coloured flowers planted, lending even more cheer to the little hidden garden. Very eclectically mismatched seating has been brought in; old packing crates, chairs scavenged from curbs, though it's all been brightly painted. There is a nest of black trash bags and broken down cardboard boxes in the far corner of the garden, in the shade of a tree of heaven. On it is a more or less child-sized lump covered in a fuzzy pale sage green throw blanket, stirring occasionally such that an uneven flutter of light shines out from the gaps on the edge. Marrow is quite a sight to behold. Pinkish skin and matching pink hair done up in a mohawk. Dirty black leathers with bone spines sprouting through seemingly at random. And the sort of scowl that invites people to keep looking if they're unhappy with the number of teeth they have. Of course first you have to know she's coming. And for a Sewer Knight that prowls around in the darkness for fun that's easier said than done. At first the fertilizer in the garden will mask her approach. Or rather the smell of her approach. Her footsteps are catlike and she slips from cover to cover as an ingrained habit. But once it's clear the garden is otherwise unoccupied there is the click, click, click of a cheap cigarette lighter. "You paid rent to sleep in our garden?" she asks before inhaling a lungful of smoke. "All of this is Morlock turf." She blows a smoke ring into the air. The foul smell of cheap tobacco does at least help cover up the sewer smell. The lump shudders, the light fluttering faster and more erratic. The blanket slides off as the person under it sits up, revealing a small face shining like a lightbulb beneath a mess of short brown hair. There are trails in the backlit grime on her face carved by tears that have since dried. The eyes are very wide, glowing more brightly and steadily than the face they're set it. The child clutches at the blanket with filthy hands. "I didn't pay rent," Samara says, skinny shoulders hunching inward. "A person who was cleaning up here told me I could stay here, and it's anyone's garden." There's only a very small hint of defiance in her quiet voice. "Do I have to go?" "That person got a name?" Marrow wonders aloud, leaning against one of the garden walls. "Because they sure as hell didn't give you no good advice. Sleepin' here with the Purifier assholes roaming about?" She snorts with disapproval. "Ain't very smart advice. And us mutants we got to be smart, right Glowstick?" "Anyway, don't worry I'm not about to roll you for nickels or nothin'." A shard of bone, thin and pointy looking, seems to sprout from her skin and after wiping the blood off she begins cleaning her nails with it. "I only pick fights with people who can fight back. No fun otherwise." She shrugs. "You planning on being here for good? Sorted for food and water?" "If not I know a couple of places you might rather be. There's a boarding school takes in strays sometimes. And freaks are always welcome with the Morlocks. Providing they don't have a sensitive nose." Samara stares blankly at Marrow. "I don't know if he had a name. He didn't tell me. I try to be smart, but I'm not very good at it." With no visible pupils in her glowing eyes, it's hard to tell where she's looking exactly, but she does draw back in horror when the shard of bone starts extruding from Marrow's skin. "Are you hurt? You have things. Sticking out of you." She shuffles uncomfortably in her nest of boxes, bags, and blanket. "I don't really have plans. I get food and water from Evolve. But they might get tired of that soon." Her fingers dig into the edge of the blanket, squeezing down rhythmically. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean. Who are Morlocks? Or Purifiers?" Even as Samara stares at Marrow the obvious wound from which the pointy bit of bone came seems to knit itself closed. Going from an obvious injury to just a smudge of blood on her skin in a few seconds. "Me?" she replies with a laugh. "Oh this hurts like hell. But I'm used to it. Had to regrow an entire leg once. Now that was unpleasant. Be glad you're not growing bones an' shit next time you think about how it sucks to glow all the time." She blows another smoke ring into the air. "Purifiers are like a gang only dumber. Humans that go around trying to hurt mutants. The weaker the better." She explains matter-of-factly, then shrugs. "The Morlocks... We're outcasts. The world won't accept physical mutants like us so we'll damn well make our own world. We live below the city. It's supposed to be a book reference or some shit like that. I dunno. Never been one for books. There's food and shelter for anyone willing to join in with the work." "Or... you got enough energy to walk to Westchester... Well the school I mentioned is out that way. I could dump you on them. They take in runaways every now and again." She smirks. "Not huge fans of mine though." She frowns. "Not gonna lie though, it's quite a long walk. Probably not worth it if you're just out here a couple of days to make your folks mad." Samara starts to lean forward when she sees Marrow's wound closing up, eyes even wider than before. "I am growing bones, too, but not like that." She pulls the blanket up to her chin. "Will Purifiers come in here to look for me? I don't want people to hurt me." She hunches in on herself even farther. "I don't want to make my folks mad. I already have a school I'm suppose to go to. In the fall." Her brows pull together. "How do you live under city? Do you live in the subway? Is it safe there?" "Xavier's?" Marrow asks, gesturing with the pointy bit of bone in what may or may not be the direction of Westchester. "Your new school that is. If it is... They should be taking you in now rather than leaving you here." She tutts, then spits into the gutter. "Useless rich fuckers. Never think anything through...." "The Purifiers might. S'not like I have their schedule or anything. Sleeping rough at your age ain't never safe. Not unless you're a stone cold killer and hiding it really well." She takes another lungful of smoke in then throws the last little bit away. "There are tunnels. Some bits of the subway, some the sewers and others we made ourselves. Takes a little getting used to but we follow a code. Everyone who can works, but everyone watches out for each other too." Her head tilts to one side. "There is food and water, plus dry places to crash for the night." Finally she lets out a sigh. "Look kid. I'm going to tell this to yah straight. No sugarcoating. You stay here by yourself and eventually bad shit will happen. Cops or the purifiers will find you. Hell they're practically the same thing. Or any number of other shitty things that can happen to a kid by herself in a big city." She flicks her hand and flings the spiky bit of bone into the dirt nearby. "I can either take you someplace safe or you do your own thing. Truth is I don't really care either way. I look out for my people and everyone else?" She laughs a short and humourless laugh. "Fuck 'em." "You decide you wanna stay here. That's your own business. But if ya do then keep that bit of bone. Anyone tries to hassle you show 'em it and say Marrow is watching out for you. Should keep some of the locals from bother you too much." She stops leaning against the wall, then rolls her shoulders. "But no-one official like. I get plenty of respect in this city. Just not with the Pigs." Samara's look doesn't get any less blank. "There's no school in the summer, usually, unless you get really bad grades. I don't like that." She twists the blanket between her hands and starts rocking back and forth, then very abruptly stops and presses her hands palm-down into her lap, still kneading the blanket, but only subtly. The glow from her skin dims, shifting from its daylight-neutral color to a faint, washed-out gray, pulsing irregularly again. "I want to go somewhere safe, please," she says very quietly. "I don't know how to do a lot of work. I can do gardening?" This sounds doubtful, but all the same she is folding up the blanket and stuffing it into a compression sack, then tucking that, along with a folded-up hoodie she had been using as a pillow, into a dark green backpack that had been concealed under the blanket before. The interior of the backpack is perhaps shockingly well-organized considering Samara's living conditions. The brief process of packing seems to have calmed her, because by the time she zips the bag shut and stands up, her light has gone neutral and steady again, if dimmer than before. She hefts the backpack up onto her bony shoulders with some difficulty and steps out of her cardboard nest, swaying on her feet slightly as she looks up at Marrow, uncertain. "My name is Samara," is what she finally settles on saying. "Thank you for helping me. I didn't know about Purifiers." "There's no classes in Summer. The school doesn't magically fuckin' disappear kid," Marrow points out with a laugh. "Well maybe it could do. Get enough mutants together and who knows what'll happen. But old man Xavier lets students with no home stay there even when classes are out. Feeds 'em and stuff." With a shrug she adds "You glow like that all the time and your work'll probably be saving us fuel by lighting up a common room." "Now me I'd hold off on the thanks until you get used to how the tunnels smell... Besides, I was looking for Purifiers to fight. Not people to help, so don't go spreading any rumours about how nice I am. Got it? I've got a reputation to uphold." She glances around the garden appraisingly. "For now I'll set you up with a bed with us. If you are going to Xavier's they can come out and fetch you." She hrmmms. "Actually, might insist they come fetch you either way. If you want to be at school that is? No sense if you'll just run away." "They stay at school?" It's hard to tell whether Samara's awe at the concept is positive or negative, but she seems lost in thought for a second or two. "I don't like school, but maybe I would like a different school? The garden man told me some schools teach fun things. I do glow all the time." Her light brightens just a little at this, and ripples through a series of tints rapidly: green, purple, red, brown, and back to neutral. "I got it. I will not spread rumors. But, a bed would be nice." "It's a.... whatever the hell rich kids go to. Boarding school? They have dorm rooms... So you weren't running away to find Xavier's School for mutants and oddballs? Crap well... Maybe I don't tell them that over the phone," Marrow replies, motioning for Samara to follow her as she ambles in the direction of a nearby storm drain. "Let 'em send a car out and by then it's too late." "Oh and you ever wind up sleepin' topside again stuff crunched up balls of newspaper in your clothes. Traps air an' helps keep you warm. " Samara shakes her head. "No. I came here to find." Her sentence seems to just end abruptly, her lips pressed tightly together. "I wasn't looking for school," is all she offers by way of clarification as she pads after Marrow, her gait a little odd. "It hasn't been very cold at night, but I will remember, if I'm sleeping somewhere cold." Her light flutters gray and reddish. "I didn't bring winter clothes." Marrow begins hauling up the drain and motions for Samara to climb the ladder down. "Yeah well sometimes the thing you find ain't the thing you thought you were lookin' for," she replies blandly. "Or else I'd be picking someone's teeth out of my fist about now." There's more than a touch of disappointment in her tone. "Once you've got a place to crash I'll see about getting someone to stop by with basic supplies. Second hand clothing, shoes if you need 'em and they'll run through the basics for living topside. In case you decide it's not the place for you." Samara's eyes widen again as she peers down into the storm drain where Marrow indicates she should go. Her breathing quickens, her nose scrunches, her hands clutch her backpack straps, and her light flutters dimmer. "Okay," she says, so quietly that it would be easy to miss. Then, just a touch more clearly, "Okay. Thank you." After squeezing her eyes shut a moment, she peels her hands away from their death-grip on the padded straps and climbs down, the darkness receding in a warm sphere of light around her.