Logs:Concise Debate

Concise Debate
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Heather, Isra
In Absentia	2019-06-02 "It does seem you have a gift for situationally appropriate rhetoric."
Location <NYC> Sunyata - Lower East Side
The construction of this waterfront condo in the Lower East Side ground to a halt after Hurricane Sandy. Since, a group of punks have taken it over and converted it to one of the more impressive squats in the city. From outside, the building is wildly colorful, covered with massive interlocking murals. The roof supports a thriving urban farm with a sizeable greenhouse and beehives, while the apartments below are homes to both long- and short-term residents, who are encouraged but not actually required to contribute supplies, income, and labor to the community. The cavernous lobby has no glass, but has become a partially indoor skate park/playground, including a rather popular free-running circuit. Dogs and cats and children wander the grounds, shamelessly soliciting food and attention from any who will give it. Near the front of the building, a trio of men with shaved heads and plain black tattoos with fascist imagery on their exposed arms (one with a very evident red handprint across his jaw, who seems to be running a bit more pained and a lot more silent than the others), are running away from the Sunyata, making a racket as they go, theorycrafting on what they would do to some of the residents if they could: "-you bitch cunt freak!" One of them calls back as he goes, though he checks over his shoulder to make certain that said freak is not following. Heather stands with her recorder held up in her hand and over her head so the audio will carry, playing back a man's voice that she captured some time before and added to her saved tracks. "Get- Get- Get-!" She leans over from side to side to make sure they are gone before flipping up her black tinted goggles for just long enough to rub at her eyes. The woman is wearing tie-dyed coloured tights and a similarly tie-dyed t-shirt, though they both use different base colours, and her shoes are a pair of completely thrashed red sneakers, her big toe peaking out of the left one. There's a shadow overhead, a stirring of wind that ripples down around the fleeing fascists and Heather alike. Dusk's huge wings beat strong as he backwings to an easy landing, his eyebrows raised high over the dark glasses that he wears. He's in black jean shorts, old Vans sneakers, a green and white striped v-neck tee. A black messenger bag slung crossbody over his chest. His wings are folding in behind him, flexing again, resettling a little more neatly. "Bold words," he's watching the trio run off down the street with a soft snort, "for people who are fleeing at top speed." Shortly behind Dusk is another set of wings, similiar in conformation even if the humanoid figure attached is...somewhat less humanoid. Her wings are styled after verdant leaves this month, the underside a lighter, softer green, the rest of her skin returned to its natural slate gray, and her horns and talons gleaming silver-black like hematite. She's wearing a purple empire waist dress with a pointed handkerchief hem, with black capris beneath to maintain her modesty when the skirt inevitably flares out for her own graceful--if somewhat higher speed--landing. She straightens up from the crouch she'd come down into, tail waving from side to side as she eyes the fleeing troublemakers. "Well done." Turning back to Heather, she inclines her head slightly. "It seems you had the matter quite in hand." Heather looks up in surprise, a squeak escaping from her mouth when not one, but two winged figures land nearby. She raises her unmanaged eyebrows slightly and looks over the two for just a second, "I did not see you there. I do not look for people up. I should rethink that." She inclines her head for just a moment in recognition of what Isra says to her, before she plays, "Thank you. Sometimes people's backs are bolder than their fronts. They were being pests." She makes an exaggerated slap motion in slow motion (at least for her; to anyone else it just looks like a normal human air slap) and then gestures off. "I hope they reconsider pesting." "They didn't look like they were keen on going for round two." Dusk shakes his head, unhooking the bag from his shoulder and letting it dangle in one hand instead. "So many people never look up. Works out just fine for /me/. If you start making a habit of it just don't go around sharing that with everyone or you'll ruin all my sneak-attack hugs." His tone is light, but there's still a furrow in his brows as the would-be attackers disappear into the distance. "Have you all been getting a lot of that here lately?" "Looking up all the time will not likely serve you well." Isra's wings rustle softly as she pulls them in to settle across her shoulders like a leafy cape. Though, after a moment's steady consideration she adds, "Possibly better for you than most, but most matters requiring your attention are much more likely to happen at ground level." Her tail lashes once, twice, in quick agitated strokes, at Dusk's question, but she adds nothing to it. "Your sneak attack hugs are safe with me," promises Heather, her flat tone no different than any of the other statements that she has made, but she does put a hand over her heart while that part plays. She frowns a moment afterwards while the message continues to play, clearly just emoting to go along with the audio. "More than I would like. There are people who do not like who lives here. Want to 'discuss the mutant problem'." She makes one-handed air quotes for the last part. The audio pauses, but starts up as quick as she looks between Isra and Dusk. "I guess you are here to meet up with someone. Unless you have heard about the Magic cards I am selling." "/Discuss/," Dusk snorts, his sharp thumbclaws twitching atop his wings. "Like our /existence/ is something you can have a damn debate about. There's been way too much of that going on lately." The shake of his head is short, sharp. "I'm glad you're here to end /that/ 'discussion' quick. Uh -- we were just stopping by to see Scramble and -- wait, Magic cards?" More animated, there's a sudden excited lift to his voice. "It does seem you have a gift for situationally appropriate rhetoric," Isra agrees, eyes fixing--to the extent that her eyes /can/, moving as slow as they do--on Heather. "I'm curious whether you have taken your debating skills out into the neighborhood at large, as well--or have any interest in do so, if not?" Her pointed ears prick up slightly at Dusk's excitement over the prospect of adding to his collection. "I am a bit impatient. So I try and be concise, when arguing we exist and wish to persist," plays Heather. She looks back over her shoulder, then her head snaps back forward to answer Isra's question. "I enjoyed doing security with Scramble once. We took knives from a nazi. And I stole his voice. Things like that are interesting." She flashes her teeth in a very brief half-grin before her countenance returns to its usual neutrality. "I have a binder of Magic cards for sale. I started collecting them for resale. Then I made the mistake of sampling my own product. And built a couple decks. But I still have plenty." "It's a dangerous path a couple decks snowballs and before you know it it's a whole /closet/ of card boxes. -- Which I'm totally gonna add to if you're down to show me what you're selling?" Dusk's brows lift hopefully for a moment before scrunching in thought. "That was Evolve, right? You all had seder duty." He scuffs knuckles against his jaw. "With so many of these shitheads around -- you know, if you're willing, we could always use some more help out at the safehouse. Down by Evolve? There's a house we help out with for mutants to crash if they need a spot. But we try to make sure people are down there to keep -- trouble away, you know? We've had more trouble in the neighborhood lately." "Good work there, as well." Isra cocks her head slightly. "I heard tell those were the.../mutant/ Nazis? I suppose an extra voice can always come in handy." Her tails swishes, energetically but not agitated this time. "One does not need to be constantly on watch constantly. Many of those who take guard duty at the safehouse really just spend some time there, socializing, doing work, or just watching programs." Her ears flatten back. "Alas, they are needed for actual...persuasion more often now than before." "They were nazi mutants," confirms Heather, before she looks between Dusk and Isra. "I would be interested in helping. I keep strange hours. And I like to keep busy. It helps the time pass." She nods confirmation and gives a thumbs up. "And if I'm killing time, may as well it be doing something good." She clips the recorder to the top of her t-shirt, while it still plays and she gestures in a few rapid waves towards inside, just the barest hint of enthusiasm tinging her recorded voice: "Come on, I'll show you my cards."