ArchivedLogs:Art in the Park

Art in the Park
Dramatis Personae Alex and Paige
In Absentia	2017-04-17 "Do... goats? not sweat?"
Location <NYC> Central Park South
Central Park South is home not just to the park itself, but also to the Belvedere Castle, the Alice in Wonderland statues, and the Central Park Zoo. These areas tend to draw tourists like a magnet - it is, perhaps, for that very reason that places like Bethesda Terrace tend to attract more New Yorkers than not, if just to escape the press of tourism that infiltrates the whole city. Though cloudy, it is a warm day in the city and certainly a fine day to go strolling though Central Park. Migratory birds seem to have been finding their way back north in increasing numbers over the past few weeks and add a touch more color to the world. As she walks, Paige's ears appear to be ever-active, twitching slightly at noises and errant breezes. Today's attire more brazenly displays her coating of fur - a worn, gray t-shirt and a pair of tan shorts. Among the many people plying their wares at various places throughout Central Park --- some more legitimately than others --- a teenager sits along the path with a spread of art around him in cheap black frames. They vary in their subjects; realistic landscapes and slice-of-life portraiture mostly, though a few abstract pieces are visible. One of the drawings depicts what is quite clearly Lucien and Heather talking with a dog chewing a bone beneath them. The perspective is somewhat strange, catching only half of Heather's face and rather low down, as if it was seen from the perspective of a child. Alex, for his part, glances up from the sketchbook he's drawing in as each person passes by, but doesn't seem to be making much of an effort to actually try /hawking/ the wares he's clearly attempting to sell (if the post-it note prices are any indication.) Rather unseasonably, Alex is wearing a rather ratty hoodie pulled up over his head; beads of sweat occasionally run down the side of his neck and disappear into the line of the fabric. It's quite unlikely that Paige would have money to spare on interior decor, but that does not stop her attention from being drawn towards the pieces of display. Quick glances are granted to each item and the horned mutant slows down while passing by. She does an evident double-take and pauses mid-step, however, upon catching sight of the one with Lucien and Heather. Her ears give a moderate flick at the recognition and she moves closer to inspect it before apparently noticing the person overseeing the collection. "Excuse me, did you draw this?" "Hm?" Alex looks up from his sketching once more, this time giving Paige a more examined once over as soon as dark brown eyes land on the horns. "O-oh. Yeah, these are all mine." He looks up the path in both directions, cautiously, then lifts his hands to pull down his hood, revealing a black (and slightly damp) head of-- feathers, with a tessellated tattoo of feathers covering his entire throat. "You just... walk around like that?" His voice has a note of something approaching awe in it. Paige's attention had drifted back towards the sketch depicting her roommate, but it is soon redirected as the artist lowers his hood. Her eyes widen slightly and her ears flick back for a moment, but she does not comment on the young man's appearance. Brows furrow, however, at his question. "Walk around like ... ? What do you -- Oh!" The goat-girl's reaches a hand to touch first at an ear, which twitches in response, and then a horn. "Oh. Um ... yes? I mean, only in daylight kind of? I don't typically leave home when it's dark out without someone else or, you know, unless I'm, uh, meeting someone a short distance away." Glancing down, she rubs one of her arms before looking up again. "It's not always ... fun." "Yeah." Alex says, running a hand roughly through the feathers in his hair. "Tell me about it." He wipes the sweat off of his forehead and neck, shaking it off before he picks up the pencil. "So... you like that one?" Alex asks, gesturing to the drawing Paige had indicated earlier. He sits forward a little bit, looking down at it. "Yeah, that's a new one. Started it..." he tilts his head from side to side, thinking. "Earlyish last week, I think? Yeah, that'd fit, since I finished it up and made copies yesterday. Maybe the week before; can't remember." The teenager shrugs his shoulders. "Like it? Well, it -is- brilliant and I suppose I do," Paige replies, inspecting the drawing once again. "I think it is of my roommate. Her name is Heather. She told me she was in the park about a week ago, though she didn't mention meeting an artist. Not that she always tells me everything, but it just seems like it'd be something she might mention," the young woman remarks with a shrug. "It is quite accurate. Do you take art classes?" Then, in regards to another matter, she adds, "I like being safe. You know, when I'm walking around. But it's just ... a nice day and -- it's -- well, the fur sometimes makes me kind of hot. But I don't seem to sweat. I think it has something to do with the horns." Alex's cheeks color slightly, a blush tinting his skin as the feathered tattoo of feathers all along his neck seems to blow in the wind. "Well, thanks." A smile brightens on his face, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Might not have recognized me." He says, a little lilt to his lips. "No, no. I used to, but haven't for a couple of years now." Sweeping his eyes unabashedly over Paige's face, he tilts his head to the side. "Do... goats? not sweat?" He asks, curiously. "I don't really know much about them. I've never actually /seen/ one," he says. Pausing for a couple of seconds, his color flares brighter. "Sorry. I'm too used to spendin--- sorry." Alex apologizes, looking down at the desk. "I didn't mean to pry." "Recognized?" Paige asks with a hint of astonishment. "Are you -- are you well-known? My apologies - I am not so familiar with, you know, artists," she provides as one hand gestures idly. When she finishes processing the rest of what Alex said, the horned mutant blinks silently for a moment, eyes taking in the teenager's reddening face and brows furrowing at his apology. "It's not -- you don't need to apologize. I'm still, uh, getting used to it all myself. It's still been less than six months," the girl admits with a soft smile and a shrug. "Questions are better than ... assumptions ... and harassment. I haven't seen many goats, myself. I think we went to a petting zoo once when I was younger; I think I remember there being goats there. But I -- I don't know much about them, you know? I mean, I've talked to some veterinarians over the phone. I know that -I- don't sweat and it's -weird-. I mean, I've sweated for my whole life, right? I've tried finding out more, but there doesn't seem to be much on how goats regulate their temperature." With another smile, she shrugs her shoulders. "That's probably more information than you wanted to know. All I know is that I am very grateful that I don't have to try to use deodorant with fur." Alex laughs and looks back up at Paige, a warm mirthful sound. "No, no, just, I tend to blend in pretty well. Keep my hood up, or I'd probably be a lot more memorable. Not well-known at all." The artist puts his sketchbook aside him on a small box and crosses his legs over each other, leaning back onto one hand and looking up at Paige. "It's interesting, though. I can imagine deodorant would be... difficult. You'd have to use those Axe spray cans that the 14 year old boys use." His smile causes one side of his lips to crinkle up. "Do you... turn into a goat?" he asks, curiously. Paige seems to be pleased by the young man's bright, albeit amused, response. She chuckles softly at the comment on deodorant, but tilts her ((head curiously at his question. "Do I ... turn into a goat? I hope not? Or at least, not that I know of? I'm pretty sure I don't." There's a slight pause as she appears to think. "I mean, if I did, I wouldn't put not telling me past my roommate. Why -- why do you ask? And blending in is useful. Safe. Or safer. I used to blend in better. Now I can't even wear shoes." A hand gestures towards her cloven hooves for emphasis. Hesitating for a moment, Alex gestures to his head -- after once more taking a glance in each direction. "You look goat-like. I look raven-like. But I can turn into one. Well... seven, actually." He smiles, almost shyly, as he looks down at his drawings. "That's, uh... that's why your friend probably didn't mention me. A lot of these were drawn from things I saw when I was flying around." He pauses, grinning at the drawing. "I think I actually may have landed on her head. I'm not exactly sure." Perhaps with a touch too much volume in her astonishment than the cautious artist would prefer, Paige echoes back, "You turn into seven ravens? -Seven-?" before continuing at a more regular speaking level. "How -- how is that even possible? How can you be seven places at once? I mean, that's just ... that's just ... -how-? I can't even imagine what it would be like. -And- you can fly? Wait, a big raven -- er seven big ravens? Or normal-sized ones? What -- how does that even work? I mean, I've heard of people turning into animals or creatures, but seven at once? Or seven different ones - one at a time? That's ... incredible? I don't even know what to say. She did show me a picture with a bird on her head. I thought that -- I don't know. She's cryptic sometimes. But flying? -Shit-, that's awesome. I -- " It seems that then, finally, realization comes over the goat girl and it is certainly her turn to blush, a deep crimson beneath her fur which threatens to move to her ears. And those ears are pressing down in embarrassment. "I'm sor--I apologize. I just -- it's just new. Sorry. You don't have to answer any of those questions. Talk about prying, huh? Sorry." “Turnabout seems to be fair play,” Alex says, laughter in his voice. “I did it to you, so I can't really complain when you do the same.” The artist does briefly duck his head and pull his hood up when he catches a passerby staring at the two of them, but he lets it fall back down once they have fully passed. “They seem pretty regular sized to me. I'm not really that sure -- seen some in the wild, but it wasn't something I really thought about.” Alex tilts his head to one side. “Yeah, I think so. It's weird. I can sort of keep track of what they're all doing, but at the same time…” The artist sniffs, once. “They're a part of me, but they're also separate at the same time. It's /really/ hard to explain,” he concludes, wryly. Paige turns her head as she notices the same passer-by out of the corner of her eye, but quickly returns her attention to the teenager. "Seven all at once. Shit. That's ... incredible. I can't even imagine. And you land on peoples' heads for photo ops." This part is said with a grin even while her blush is still fading. She bites her lip and falls quiet for half a minute, letting her eyes sweep over the other drawings. "So, each of these," the goat girl begins, squatting down as she looks at the pieces, "You drew from memory. That -- that is impressive. And my name is Paige. I probably should have introduced myself at some point. That's what people do, after all, I suppose." “Alex. Yeah, if I just kind of let the birds take over, they do what’s instinct. But they're not as scared of humans as most ravens are, so… head perching.” Alex has the decency to look slightly abashed by this. “Not all of them. Some, I drew while one of them was still out. That's easier, of course, but…” The boy shrugs his shoulders. “Drawing from memory can give you some freedom to draw what you want, rather than what is.” "Instinct," Paige repeats, eyes quickly scanning Alex's face. "Can be a scary thing." Her gaze then flicks back to the drawings. "Though as long as it doesn't upset you, that is good. But you can -- how does it work?" Now her attention again returns to the teenager with furrowed brows and a curious expression. "Turning into one while still being a ... person -- humanoid. That is ... " Ears flick and twitch as she pauses for a moment in thought. "Something I have never thought of. I mean, being more than one consciousness at once is just -beyond- me. Still, these drawings are very impressive." A smile plays on her lips as she shifts a bit on her hooves. "Much better than anything I could ever do." “It’s not the most pleasant thing in the world,” Alex says, a little bit of a grimace on his face. “The actual changing, I mean. I kind of… melt? I think that’s the best way to explain. I’ve never really seen it myself. And-- thanks. Art’s about the one thing I’m actually good at.” The teenager gives Paige a wan smile. “Certainly my best class in school. By a long shot, for the most part.” Alex picks up the sketchbook off of the ground and flips through it, angling it so Paige can see the various drawings in different states of completion -- some light dashing lines, others outlined, and some in the process of being colored. “Still, I’m not nearly a professional or anything.” "That -- melting -- that -does- sound very kind of unpleasant, yeah," the goat girl agrees with a few quick nods. "But it also sounds ... quick? I mean, like all my changes have been slow. Taken weeks. Sometimes months. And they could get ... quite painful. I think -- I mean I -hope- that they're done. But it took me twenty years to manifest, so I am not that optimistic." She watches with avid interest as Alex displays his in-progress work, the pieces bringing a smile to her face. Her eyes then narrow and she looks from the sketchbook to the teenager again. "Have you considered showing your work at a...um...festival sort of thing? A ... crap - oh! a showcase sort of event, yeah. My friend Marinov has been putting one together for late May. A mutant arts festival, they call it. They're getting help from the people who put together the Evolympics and the owner of Evolve, if you've ever been there. There will likely be many mutants there." One of her arms makes a sweeping gesture to indicate Central Park. "More than here, at least. And in one place at one time, you know? Safety in numbers, right? But, still, your work is wonderful, marvelous. You should consider it. I could put you two in touch. Or I could coordinate. I've been helping them as best I can. “Showing?” Alex says, tilting his head to one side. “I mean, I did in high school, but… I didn’t think there’d really be any opportunity anymore. Since…” Alex gestures to his head with the sketchbook. “That sounds... “ He pauses. “That sounds really awesome, actually. I’d love to be involved. Do I need to submit somewhere? Is there a theme?” Alex’s eyes start to widen and he looks down at his sketchbook. “Should I submit more than one piece? I don’t know if I really have anything that’s show quality right now…” His eyes widen further, flipping through his notebook himself now, teeth biting his bottom lip. Paige seems thrilled by the teenager's response to her not so eloquent offer. "You think so? I think it's awesome, too. I mean I can't, you know --" here she gestures idly "-- do or make art, but I totally think this thing could be really great. It's come a long way since they started thinking it up. And, yeah! You, uh, sign up online and you can submit as many pieces as you want. Marinov's told me that there are two different types of ... you know, uh ... venues. You could get stage time to do a performance or fashion show or what-have-you, but there's also little, like, stalls they're going to have set up. You could set up there. Like you have here, but with a counter. As for quality ... I'm not sure I follow. I mean, -I- think your pieces are amazing and wonderful, but I think anyone seeing your work could figure out that you put time and effort into your drawings. It really shows in my opinion." A soft smile is offered as she watches for Alex's response. Alex’s cheeks burn and he grins at Paige. “Thanks. That’s really nice to hear.” He nods, glancing over the drawings that surround him. “Yeah, that… that sounds pretty awesome. I’ll check it out. What’s the name of it?” He flips through his scrapbook until he comes to the front cover and picks up the colored pencil off of his lap. The website, it seems, is going to be written in Yellow Ochre. Paige's own face reddens in turn for a passing moment as she notices Alex's blush. "It is. My friend is putting a lot of work into this," she confirms with a small nod. "Right now they're calling it 'Something Different: Mutant Arts Festival' and the website is sdmaf dot net. The location is still somewhat up in the air, you know? But it's not going to be where they go to school in Westchester and it shouldn't be so far away as that." “Westchester isn't as far as all that. Not as the bird flies, anyway.” Alex says, a little bit of a shy smile on his lips. He looks down at his notebook and pages through it slowly, more careful and delicate than the frenzied search of a few moments before. He opens to a quadriptych panorama of the four seasons of Croton Gorge Park and turns it around for Paige to see. “Not finished yet, but… I was up around there a month ago.” "Maybe not, but some of us have to take the train and walk," Paige counters with light laughter. "And I grew up in a small town, so take that as you may." Leaning forwards to more closely examine the sketchbook, her ears flick up in recognition. "Oh! This is the park! I've been there a few times with Marinov. But I've only really been there in the late autumn and winter." “I’ve just been there once, as far as I remember.” Alex looks down at the paper, as if trying to remember. “But one park looks rather much like the other when you’re flying over them. I only remember being there once, but…” The artist shrugs his shoulders, giving Paige a wry smile. “I wouldn’t want to testify about it or anything.” "You've been there once," remarks Paige as she looks the feathered mutant in the eyes, her eyebrows raising somewhat. "And yet you've captured it in four different seasons. Your work is excellent. At least, in my opinion, you know? But I think it's worth showing off. And there'll be other artists there too. All mutants. I have a feeling it'll be less about one-upping each other or criticizing each others’ work and more about community. And you don't -have- to fly over them," she begins after a moment's hesitation. "You can walk through them. And if you don't feel ... safe about that, I am always trying to get as used to my hooves as possible." This last part is accompanied by a small shrug. “That sounds really nice. I don’t mind the criticism; it’s an art show. That’s how you get better.” Alex looks down at the ground bashfully, cheeks reddening. “I spend a lot of time as birds. Easy to get food that way, and easier for me to get around. Blend in a lot more than I do like this. Except with… well, the people I live with. They understand.” Alex looks up at Paige, brown eyes fixing on her face. “They’re all like us. Physical mutants. When they look at me, they don’t see a /freak/.” This word is said with a vicious edge to it, almost spat out. Paige maintains eye-contact with Alex for a several silent moments, her expression softening, before her eyes flick away to examine the ground beneath her. "Yeah, it's ... it's not the same. They don't -- I mean not even my roommate; I don't think she really gets it, though she does have her own issues that seriously impact her life. I mean, it's just -- I'm ranked as a level four mutant. I don't even know why. I'm not telekinetic, I'm not dangerous, I'm just me." Another shrug is offered and her gaze rises again. "I can't fault you for wanting to blend in and using what you have available to do that. Not all of us can, but if being a 'freak' gives us some advantage, why not use it, right? And getting food from it as an added bonus? Why not?" Now she looks the teenager in the eyes again with a strained smile. "And fuck anyone who calls you that. It's good that you live with people who accept you. I live with mutants too, but they're not all physical." “Level four? What, is that your registration?” Alex asks, curiously. “Yeah. The place is… not great. I mean, it’s safe, but it’s not exactly high-class living or a house in the suburbs with a picket fence or anything.” The teenager shrugs his shoulders. “We get by. Where do you live?” Fidgeting in place, Alex folds his legs underneath him, closing the scrapbook once more. “Your roommate -- is she a mutant too?” Paige nods in response to Alex's question. "Yeah, my 'status'. Someone said I could try to appeal it, but that seems like it would be quite the, uh, hassle. We kind of have a picket fence? I mean, it's more like a wall. A short wall. So not really a fence. I live at the Commons. And, yeah, my roommate is a mutant - not a physical one. She pays for the place in trade for me helping her, you know, interact with the rest of the world mostly. She's ... fast. Moves faster than everyone - five times faster - and she can't slow down. It makes food somewhat of an issue since she has to eat more often, but she also has more time to earn money. What about you? Where do you live?" “Oh. Yeah, the Commons. Jax and B live there; they’re friends.” Alex says, a pleased look on his face. “We live in a tunnel that we’ve cleaned up and got power in. B and Jax come by sometimes with supplies that they found. I’m one of the luckier ones, honestly. When I go out, for the most part, as long as I keep my hood up I’m alright. Some of the people down there, though…” Alex trails off, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not really safe for them to walk around.” He frowns and pulls his hood back up over his head as another person walks by. He doesn’t lower it again. "A tunnel? So you live underground? So you -do- exist." Realizing that her slight enthusiasm over discovering this is inappropriate, Paige winces. "Sorry, sor--I mean apologies. It's just that -- well, here's some good news, I guess: not many people know you're down there. I'd heard some vague rumors, but ... nothing solid, you know? That --" There's a slight hesitation as she cuts herself off, pausing for a moment before starting anew. "It must be nice to have people to live with. People like you, like us. I've never really met Jax in person, but, from what I've gathered, he's like the nicest person on the planet. And I haven't met B yet either; though if Shane's reputation is any indication, I'm guessing that goodness kind of runs in that family. I'm sorry that not everyone gets the chance to go outside like you do, like so many other people." Here she shifts again as she looks towards the framed pieces Alex has laid out. "So your pictures, then ... they must bring them some sort of solace or, you know ... uh, joy? Happiness? Just being able to at least see glimpses of the outside world? I'm not sure of the right word here." Alex blinks several times at Paige’s enthusiasm. His mouth opens, hangs for a moment, then shuts with a clacking sound, as if a beak snapping shut. He tilts his head to one side, examining Paige out of a single eye in a distinctly bird-like manner. “Yes… we keep to ourselves for the most part. Not many people who are aboveground know where we live, and it’s not the sort of place that’s… safe for most people to wander to find, if you understand what I mean.” Alex’s tone is careful, measured. Still, looking down at the drawings on the ground around him, Alex shrugs his shoulders. “I guess. Not really. Maybe for some of the people I live with, but mostly, I think it might just make them sad.” It is several moments before he speaks again. “Mainly, I try to sell as many as I can to raise money for supplies for us all. There’s not a lot of us who can get any kind of regular work, so, we all have to pitch in as much as we can.” "Oh," comes Paige's simply response, her ears pressing down. Her eyes flick away and she rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. "Y-yeah, I guess it could have that effect too. I've been ... really lucky. Like really, -really- lucky. Right place, right time, right person, you know?" Then, looking at Alex again, she bites her lower lip. "I -think- I understand what you mean. And if I do, I -- so do -- what, uh ... I'm guessing I might not want to know. There's not much I understand, really, if we're being honest here. I just -- Is there anyway I could help? I mean, right, buying your stuff and giving you cash for your wares - that would be the way. Maybe one day I'll be able to do that. I hope. But if there's any, you know, non- ... uh ... monetary or supply ways I could ever help out with ... I don't know. I just kind of like helping." “Yeah.” Alex’s eyes flick up to Paige and looks over her face -- and ears -- and pauses for a moment. “There’s nothing wrong with having gotten out. It makes you lucky, not bad.” His voice is soft, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. If you want to help, I’d talk to Jax or B. They do a lot of the work up aboveground to help us out. And since you live with them anyway….” He trails off, shrugs his shoulders. “No need to buy my stuff; I’m after tourists, not other people in the same boat as me.” The ears on Paige's head relax slightly, lifting closer to their idle position and she releases a small sigh. "Thank you. I just seem to get lucky a -lot- more than other people. I try to appreciate what I've got, but sometimes it just ends up going on the back-burner and you start taking it for granted, you know? And then that ..." The goat girl trails off, glancing to the side for a moment. "Thank you for the, uh, advice," she says with an involuntary, relieved smile smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "I'll see if I can talk to them. In the meantime, I'll see if we can't get you a prime spot at the arts festival, huh?" Alex nods and flashes Paige a smile. “That would be awesome. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll have to find something that I can share.” He glances around at the cheaply framed drawings around him. “Gives me something to work on besides just trying to sell this stuff.” He raises a hand in a loose salute to Paige. “It was good to meet you, Paige.” "It was good to meet you, too, Alex," Paige says with a grin of her own. Placing her hands on her knees, she stands herself up. "It's always good to have goals. Or at least, that's what my roommate seems to think. I'll keep an eye out for your submission and -I- look forward to seeing you there. See you around."