ArchivedLogs:The Kindness of Strangers

The Kindness of Strangers
Loads of serendipity. Loads of it.
Dramatis Personae Howl, Anole, Micah
In Absentia	5 July 2013 Chance meetings in the park lead to Morlock deliveries.
Location <NYC> Central Park North
Central Park North is slightly quieter than its southern counterpart, being further uptown and slightly out of the bustle of the City - insofar as one can escape the bustle of the City even here, in the acres of green and blue that make up Central Park. The reservoir is in the northern half, providing miles of jogging and biking trails along the clear water, as well as benches for people to sit and rest. Evening finds a slightly bedraggled Howl seated not on, but near a Central Park bench; his /backpack/ gets the privilege of priority seating, but the tall man - just under six-and-a-half feet if he actually stands upright - is sort of crouched next to it, on the ground. He's dressed in a rather grandmotherly attire; a blue blouse, a long skirt - which is curved over what looks like a /bustle/ in the back, and seems to have a white fur trim at the bottom - and a darker blue headscarf wrapped around his head. Everything's a little disheveled and on the dirty side. His /attention/ is on the small pond that the bench is looking over; the surface is a bit oddly ripply, though the night is not particularly breezy. In between watching /that/, he gives the occasional furtive glance from side to side to check for passers-by. There is one passerby making his way along. He looks kind of disheveled himself, decidedly shabby, decidedly filthy, and dressed far too warmly for the sweltering heat, as well. Anole is in jeans and a very oversized old Brooklyn Dodgers sweatshirt, a backpack on his back that, bulky and overstuffed, looks like it might be almost as heavy as the tiny teenager is. The hood of his sweatshirt has been pulled up over his head, its sleeves pulled down over his hands; even so, it's possible from some angles to see the very /green/ skin on his face. He is a little skittish-erratic as he makes his way through the park, skirting mostly around anyone else out for jogs or walking dogs or chatting. He approaches Howl's bench, though, from behind, watching the backpack more than the man it belongs to. Creeeeepcreepcreep closer. To -- sniff at it. Kind of /hopefully/. The sun is no longer dominating the sky, and that means it is finally not brain-meltingly sweltering outside! Micah has decided to go for a /run/, and with no particular equipment in need of testing at the moment, truly prefers to do his running outside. He has come a little out of his way for the longer, quieter trails in this part of the park. The slight-framed young man is dressed in a plain, light blue T-shirt and longish black running shorts. This attire shows off the more unique feature of a left leg that transitions to a prosthesis somewhere beneath the fabric, a complex knee unit in copper shades above a short metal shaft that is attached to a carbon-fibre running blade. His running is a bit springier than is typical, then slows to a jog, eventually stopping for a rest by the small seating area. He is not entirely still when he stops, rather having to bounce in place slightly on that left foot that is intended primarily for running. His hair is sweat-damp, and he pulls a bottle of water from a small, tightly cinched jogging pack that had been on his back. Howl is tired enough that he isn't quiet on his A-game; as such, Anole isn't noticed until the younger boy is practically on top of his bag. At this point, the water mysteriously stops rippling, and the man grabs the backpack, yanking it backwards and hugging it against his chest. "Hey!" He backs up a bit, pushing himself along the grass - probably staining his /skirt/ in the process - and he flipflops between staring right at Anole and looking around, either for escape or to make sure there aren't /reinforcements/. Micah doesn't register on his radar - he's used to joggers just running by and ignoring him - so he just focuses on the kid for now. "Is there-- something I can /help/ you with?" His tone is a bit on the terrified side, and he speaks with a thick Welsh accent. Anole squeaks and startles backwards, scurrying back away from the bench when Howl notices and grabs the backpack. "Um -- no I -- sorry I didn't -- no sorry um I just sorry," comes out in a tiny startled rush that is capped at its end with: "Ohmygosh, are you a robot." Under the oversized hood it's hard to see how wide his eyes have opened but there is a distinct note of /awe/ in his voice. Micah's attention is drawn to the pair with the Welsh-accented yelling. When Anole addresses him, he recaps his water bottle and approaches the bench slowly...well, bouncily. His gait is awkward with walking but /running/ at strangers might freak them out. He positions himself between the other two, offering an easy smile. "Evenin'. Not a robot, I'm afraid. Maybe a cyborg. For certain definitions of cyborg. Everythin' okay here?" "No, I'm not-- what?" Howl's expression shifts to one of complete confusion, until Micah comes over and clears up the confusion. And thus Howl calms down a bit and adds, "Ah." With the bag still hugged to his chest with one hand, he pushes himself up to his knees with the other, then up onto his feet to brush himself off. Which in turn results in his having to rather look /down/ in order to address the others. "Everything's. Quite alright." And there his glance turns to Anole, like, we're good right? "Ohwell a -- a /cyborg/ then, that's /so cool/ --" Anole stops as Micah bounces closer, looking over the running blade more closely. Awe quickly changes to mortified apology: "Oh, oh gosh, that's, you don't have a -- oh /gosh/ I'm sorry sir I'm so -- dumb oh gosh." He lifts his hands to cover his face with the trailing ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. "Everything'sfine," he mumbles muffled behind his sleeves. And then, smaller, hopeful: "... there was chocolate in there." Micah nods at Howl's reply, happy to see there isn't /conflict/. There is a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he watches Anole, now that he is closer and not worried about /fights/ starting. He bites his lip to hold back greeting the young man by name, as he can't decide how to bring it up without spooking him as of yet. “What?” he seems a little surprised by Anole's sudden fumbling. “Oh, no don't. You don't have to apologise, it's okay.” His hands pat at the air in a calming gesture, sloshing the water about in its container as he does so. Approaching Anole, Howl sets a hand on top of the boy's head in an oddly paternal gesture. In the process, the boy may notice the feel of five /claws/ through the fabric of the hoodie; they're filed down so as not to be terribly sharp, but they're still prominent. "Everything's fine," he assures the teen, and the mention of chocolate gets a slightly bewildered expression. "Chocolate?" The hand is removed, and suddenly he's got the bag open and is rustling through it. Eventually he comes back up with a Cadbury chocolate bar, and holds it out to the boy. "Hm?" "No I just -- you don't have a /leg/ I didn't. Um. Sorry. It was. I shouldn't have called you a /robot/ I just --" This stammering ends abruptly; Anole squeaks again when Howl puts a hand on him; beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, it's easy to feel, too, that he does not have /hair/ but instead a very hard very spiky /shell/ atop his head. He freezes, wide-eyed again, looking very much on the verge of bolting until the chocolate is produced. There is a sudden THWP! of long and pink and sticky, Anole's tongue unfurling chameleon-quick to zap out and nab the chocolate bar out of Howl's hand. "Ohmygosh are you serious?" He is, notably, only asking this /after/ the chocolate bar has come securely into his possession. Also after the wrapper is good and SLOBBERY. Howl's placing his hand on Anole's head has Micah holding his breath for a moment, out of fear that the young man will /rabbit/. But there is chocolate to keep him in place! Micah shakes his head again at the ongoing apologies. “What? Why? Robots are awesome. And not always evil. I mean, look at Data! Okay, nevermind Lore. Even androids can have evil twins. But Data is awesome!” The sudden froggish-tongue manoeuvre cuts off his rambling, leaving him blinking for a second and giggling after that. “Well, what /can't/ be solved with chocolate?” /Jumping/ back a bit when Anole grabs the chocolate bar with his /tongue/, Howl's eyes go wide and he just sort of. Barely manages to keep from letting out a yelp of surprise. "Y-- Yes. I haven't been in much of a chocolate mood, lately." As Micah gets to talking, the reference apparently goes completely over the fox man's head, and he occupies himself by pulling the backpack on over his shoulders and brushing at his clothes a bit more. "So then." He nods slowly a bit, as he looks between the other two. "Fine evening we're having, yes?" "OK but look at /Lore/ --" Anole is /already/ starting to say when Micah says look at Data. He blushes when Micah makes the reference himself, cheeks colouring darker green. He is forced to slip green fingers out of the sleeves of his hoodie in order to unwrap the chocolate bar, starting to eat it with hungry quick bites. His eyes are mostly riveted on the running blade. "-- are you evil?" The chocolate bar is rapidly disappearing into his mouth. "Fanks," he offers a little muffled up to Howl. "How could you ever not be in a chocolate mood?" And then, "that's like a really /old/-timey dress, is that a costume?" Micah chuckles at Anole bringing up Lore on his own. "Pretty sure I'm not evil. I mean. I can't even grow a decent goatee, so." He finishes the statement with a grin and a shrug, as if the gestures substitute well for words. He leans a hand against the back of the bench to unweight his left leg, in order to avoid the need for continuous movement. "It is pretty hard not t'be in a chocolate mood." He nods in reply to Howl's comment on the evening. "Indeed. I'll pretty much take whatever is /not/ rainin' for a day at this point." Anole's question results in a bit of an awkward silence from Howl, who takes a moment to try to come up with an adequate answer. Rather than answering just yet, though, he instead turns his attention to Micah. "If nothing else, rain usually means it gets a bit cooler," he notes. "Though I suppose when it's already warm out, it can just make it worse..." That thought has him thoughtful for a moment, but finally he considers Anole's question thoughtfully. "It's a difficult thing to explain," he finally answers. "I wear it because I am... uncomfortable." "S'ok I can't grow one either," Anole tells Micah sympathetically. He stops halfway into a bite of chocolate, looking down at the candy bar and then up at Micah. There's a long hesitation, and then he unwraps the other half, snapping off a piece that has not yet been chewed and skittering a little closer to tentatively offer it to Micah on one (grubby) palm. "-- Uncomfortable?" He glances back at Howl with an uncertain frown that smoothes out into another sort of sympathetic understanding look: "Oh. With being a -- it's okay," he says earnestly, "you can be whatever gender you want to be just ignore the people who are jerks about it." Micah smiles broadly at Anole's facial hair commiseration, though that smile grows all the wider when the boy offers up some of his precious chocolate! Which, of course, he couldn't /dream/ of not accepting once offered! He pinches the bit of candy between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, giving a sincere, "Thanks," before starting to nibble at it. He takes Anole's assumption about Howl at face value, incorrect though it might be. "Not to worry. I figure it's okay to wear whatever y'want. Clothes don't define anythin'." "Wh-- no!" Howl actually /blushes/ at that misconception, lifting his hands in defensive posture and shaking his head hurriedly. However, it has the added effect of making him feel /obligated/ to explain the actual reason. "No, it isn't-- up until just recently I had been under the impression that I was the only person who doesn't look... like other people. But I've learned recently that that isn't the case." He lets out a little sigh. "I had been wearing this to make it... less obvious, that I am different. I know now that it isn't as unusual as I'd thought, but I'm still... not ready to stop hiding myself." Anole smiles, quick and warm and a little shy when Micah takes the chocolate. "Yeah, see, he --" He's nodding to Micah, indicating his agreement with Micah's take on wearing what he wants. His eyes widen at How's explanation. "Oh! Oh not you -- no you're not. Um. Do you look different? You look kind of -- normal to me." He says this with a very deep blush, like 'normal' is a dirty word. "Ah," Micah says simply at Howl's protestations. "I think I understand." Because there are so many people in his life that don't quite look 'normal', it's amazing he doesn't start assuming that /every/ odd bit of dress has to do with a mutation! "There are an awful lot of people that don't fit the typical mould out there. It honestly...can be the wiser decision t'make yourself less obvious in public. Life ain't been easy for visibly different folks out'n about lately. 'Specially /here/." He gestures with the remnant of his chocolate bit to indicate the park at large, before depositing the rest of the candy in his mouth to melt away. "Yes, I've been told that," Howl nods, to Micah's explanation. "Although I'm afraid I'm not entirely aware of what has been happening of late. I've only just recently arrived," he adds, by way of explanation. In the meantime, Howl considers Anole for a moment and hums, thoughtfully. He gives another look around the park to check for /others/, and murmurs, "Well, you seem safe enough." Hands go up to his head to fuss with his headscarf and, untying it, he pulls it down to unveil a pair of big ol' fox ears, covered in white fur and black at the tips. "Oh, goodness, that /does/ feel better," he adds, shaking his head a bit and rubbing his ears gently, with a slight cringe in his expression. "I've had them wrapped up quite too long, I think.” "Oh!" Anole's eyes light. A smile flits across his face, wide and bright, as he looks at the fox ears. "Oh, those are. That's. So pretty, you're /gorgeous/," comes out in a startled rush; he blushes afterwards and tips his head downwards. "Sorry. I just. Meant -- sorry." His brows furrow deeply. He steps closer, shoving the rest of his chocolate into his mouth, too. "There's a place," he tells Howl -- a lot /softer/, turning slightly away from Micah, "Um. For. People. Like us. You can be /you/ all you want. It's good for --" His cheeks darken again. "It's safer. Than here." Micah just sort of watches Howl for a moment with an odd sort of smile. A telepath would realise he's taking a minute to remind himself that petting strangers is /rude/. Even if they have adorable, soft-looking ears! He certainly does not hear every word of the quieted conversation but /is/ sort of standing /right there/. It helps that he can fill in the blanks on his own. He clears his throat softly, trying to find a way to discuss the topic, again, without scaring anyone off. Or being entirely too 'The eagle flies at midnight' about it. “Have you...managed t'go back there? I am acquainted with your chatelain,” he explains, leaning a bit heavily on that last word in hopes that it is one Nox used liberally. It seemed like a unique enough term to spark some recognition without using the name or description of the wanted shadow-lady! “It's vaguely possible she might have mentioned me, and it would be better manners t'introduce myself, regardless. Micah Zedner.” He would /usually/ offer a hand in this pause, but fears upsetting a delicate balance with motion /towards/ skittish and secretive individuals. So he continues, simply, “She’s been worried. On account of not seein’ you for so long.” "Gor--" Howl can't even complete the word, he's so /flustered/. "I'm hardly-- /that/." Hard to tell if he's being modest or if he just genuinely disagrees with the assessment; but either way, he's pulling that scarf over his ears again - not quite crushing them against his head, but covering them enough that they aren't on such display. It clearly isn't a reaction he'd ever expected, in any case. But when Anole comes over for secretive whispers, he crouches down so that he's more on the boy's level, nodding quietly along with the explanation. Micah's interjection indicates that the other man is familiar with the place as well, and Howl tilts his head to one side. Nonetheless, his reply to Anole is still whispered; this close, the boy will likely notice that the man has fangs as well to match the ears, though he does make a habit of trying to speak in such a way that they aren't terribly visible. Which isn't a terribly easy feat, all things considered. After a long moment of thought, he glances up to Micah then looks back to Anole, a serious expression fixing itself on his face. "I'd like to know more about this place, if you think I'd be welcome," he answers, voice low. Anole’s brow furrows when Micah speaks; he looks up at the man with a decidedly puzzled look that slowly morphs -- surprise! Then suspicion. Then just uncertainty, his teeth biting down against his lip. “No, I haven’t. Been. Back,” he says awkwardly, “they shut --” He presses his lips together again. “-- I’m Anole,” he finally introduces, perhaps more to Howl than to Micah, as Micah seems to already kind of know him! “Oh, I’m sorry!” He looks actually a little distressed when Howl covers his head back up. “I didn’t mean to -- you /are/ pr -- I’m sorry. You don’t have to.” His nose crinkles, shoulders a little tenser as his head ducks. “You’d be welcome. /I/ was.” “You don't have to...do that,” Micah protests when Howl moves to cover himself again, “unless it's what you want.” He nods to Anole. “She's a friend. A good friend. I've been helpin' t'bring supplies while people ain't be able to get out'n about so much. With the current state of things. They backed the...passive defenses down a bit in the places we've been usin' for deliveries an' are keepin' up sentries instead.” He chews at his lower lip for a moment, uncertainly. “Anole, she thought it might be best if y'went to the school with Shane an' 'Bastian. I told her that I could help get you there. Or their dad could, too. If that's what you want.” Another pause has his fingers raking through his hair, causing the still sweat-damp mess to stick out at odd angles. “I could show you one of the entrances I been usin', too, if you want. But...it ain't terribly near here. This area's been an extra /special/ mess, so it's closed off pretty good.” Howl does seem to be relaxing a bit, but he keeps the scarf on, however loosely. "It's hard to explain," he murmurs, in response to the protests, but gives a gentle shake of his head. And now that secrecy seems to be unnecessary, he pushes himself back up to stand upright, straightening his skirt out a bit, and resting a hand on Anole's shoulder in sort of oddly paternal gesture. "Are you no longer welcome?" he asks the boy, ears perked just slightly through the fabric of his scarf. And a glance is given over to Micah again. "Would this happen to be the school for... mutants, was the word, I believe?" Head tilted a bit. "I happened to meet a teacher from there, recently. He seemed kind." This may be added for Anole's benefit. "A Mr. Wagner, I believe. But as far as this other place goes... it sounds like it may be a good idea for me, to at least investigate. Living in the park is getting to be exhausting." “-- you know Shane and --” Anole’s cheeks deepen, darker green. “-- how are they,” he asks, smaller, shyer. “I didn’t -- I mean I didn’t /mean/ to be -- I tried going home and the ways were all /closed/ and I didn’t know how to --” There’s a sudden hitch of his breath, his head ducking to let his hood tip further over his face. His weight shifts to lean slightly against Howl, with that hand on his shoulder. “No, I -- I think I’m still. I don’t know. Things got dangerous around here so I think everyone -- hid more? But it’s -- it’s safe /there/. Just not up here so much. They don’t always like people -- coming. Who aren’t like us.” Which earns /Micah/ a distinctly /puzzled/ look. “Are you --” His eyes drop to the running blade, and he lapses into a thoughtful silence, for a moment. “... it’s been exhausting up here,” he agrees with Howl, very quietly. Micah nods at Howl, though he deliberately avoids answering the school question. He has been trying his best to be /vague/ with secrets that aren't his to share. “I can see how that would be exhausting, t'say the least. Either way...if y'go with Anole, that's good. But I also know a shelter that will take in people who are different. Can't make promises for all the other folks as /stay/ there, but they try t'keep the peace.” Anole's statement-question earns another nod. “I'm with. Dating? Live with,” he crinkles his nose, not particularly happy with any given word choice, sort of bouncing between options, “their dad. They're doin' about as well as could be expected with things as they are. Takin' summer classes t'make up for...missed time. Which thrills Shane 'bout as much as y'might think it would.” Micah's little grin implies that one shouldn't think this thrilled him very much at all. “I could show you where t'get in, like I said. Um. Is it okay? T'bring new people?” He shoots an apologetic look to Howl. “Sorry. I just don't know the protocols for these things.” A shake of his head answers Anole's incomplete question. “Oh, no. I'm not... Just a friend.” Shaking his head to Micah at that apologetic look, Howl lifts his free hand to gesture dismissively. "No need to apologize, it's why I had asked if I'd be welcome." Anole is given another curious look, before he continues. "I was told about a shelter nearby, as well.. I have a card somewhere, though it's a bit buried at the moment. But if there is a hidden place..." He gnaws on his lower lip, gently, and the fangs are that much more obvious when he does. Speaking a bit more slowly, it seems he's a bit conflicted about how to phrase what he's saying. "I'm... I've spent much of my life in secrecy. Until a fortnight ago, or so, I had... been under the impression that there were no other people like me. 'Mutant' is a new word for me, as well." He lets out a little sigh, running his free hand over his head. "So I'm rather more accustomed to keeping to myself. If this place Anole here speaks of would have me.. as I said, I'd like to investigate." At that point he blinks, shaking his head a few times. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. My name is Hywel." Which almost, but doesn't quite, sound like.. "Howl, may be easier." “-- You’re dating their /dad/?” Anole looks over Micah with renewed curiosity, cheeks still dark. “... oh.” That’s smaller, kind of uncertain. “I’m -- glad. That they’re doing good.” Tentatively, too, he reaches out to slip his hand into Howl’s. “It’s OK for /me/ to bring new people. And I -- ohmygosh,” he tells Howl with abrupt excitement, “there’s /so many/ people like us. You don’t have to be out here all alone.” Tugtugtug, he pulls gently at Howl’s hand -- apparently Time To Go is /right now/. “C’mon! I’ll -- we’ll?” He looks at Micah questioningly. “We’ll take you.” Micah listens quietly to Howl's story, smiling at the greeting. “Nice t'meet you, Hywel,” he says, pronouncing the name more like 'Howell'. “Oh good.” He sounds relieved when Anole says that he is able to bring new people. “I didn't want to offer...t'show you both. An' then not be able t'follow through on it. Or get folks in trouble over it. The entry that I know of that has an actual /ladder/ is a pretty good hike from here. At the risk of sounding entirely creepstery, I can give y'all a ride. The spot's actually close t'my place, so I would've been goin' that way anyhow.” Giving a last glance around the area to make sure he hasn't left anything behind, Howl - satisfied that he's got all his things - takes Anole's hand and grips it gently, careful not to get claws involved. Micah is given a somewhat hesitant smile - not an expression he makes often, it seems - and the man nods once more. "I understand completely, and appreciate your concern." He nods slowly, looking off into the distance a bit, and Anole's tugging also gets a bit of a smile from the man. "I think... that it will be nice to be among others." Another nod, there, and his attention is once more turned to Micah. "Do you mean a ride in a car? If Anole is fine with it.. so long as we aren't putting you out terribly?" “It’s nice. Before I came here I was --” Anole frowns, slightly, and doesn’t finish this, saying instead: “... I miss it, the past month’s not been.” His fingers tighten in Howl’s. His head snaps back up when Micah makes his offer, and he takes a half-step backwards, head shaking reflexively. “-- NoIdon’twantto --” He sounds apologetic even while /nervous/, shaking his head again. “Is it not. We can’t. Walk? Or the subway or -- I don’t want to.” “Van, actually. I know. Not helping with the creepster thing,” Micah replies with a soft snort of laughter. “Like I said. S'right on my way. So I'd be goin' anyhow.” He frowns at Anole's response—not disappointed or angry, more sad. Sympathetic, perhaps. “No, no, it's okay. I get that. Don't take rides from strangers. It's just that it's not a feasible walk an' I've heard that the subway ain't always the safest thing for you guys. But if you're more comfortable, sure we could subway.” He twists the cap off of his water bottle, taking another swig. “Honestly, if y'all aren't comfortable with me /altogether/, I get that. I could...just give you the cross streets an' subway fare. If you'd rather find it yourself. An' I'll leave you my phone number an' address. The building where I live...Shane an' 'Bastian live there, too. An' their dad. I could send one of them instead, t'show you.” When Anole starts acting nervously, Howl grips the boy's hand a bit more firmly in an attempt to be comforting, and steps forward /just/ a bit to put himself slightly between Micah and Anole. Just in case. "I'm not certain that the subway would work well for me. I do take up rather a lot of room," he notes, a bit apologetically himself. Giving Micah an obliging sort of look, he then crouches down on Anole's level again and looks him in the face with that serious expression again. "But if you'd be more comfortable with that, we can try it. I'm also used to walking. We'll leave the decision up to you, if that's okay? Whichever you prefer." He nods towards Micah. "Along with whether or not you'd like Mr. Zedner to come along." Anole bites down on his lip, fidgeting with distinct nervousness when Howl voices reservations about the subway. His eyes dart between Howl -- that bustle -- Micah. He gnaws on his lip further, one hand lifting to wring at the strap of his backpack. “O --” he starts, and then, “--o... kay. We can. Take the. Van. And --” He swallows, squeezing Howl’s hand tighter. “-- And get you home.” Micah nods along with Howl's explanations and reassurances. And again when Anole decides that the van is an okay option. “I wish there were a way I could reassure you about this, but I understand it wouldn't be reasonable t'just expect you to trust me. Y'don't know me from Adam. I get it.” He smiles again, before adding, “It's a very silly van. Um...just back this way. It'll be a little bit of a walk yet.” Micah leads the way back out of the park, keeping as slow a pace as he is able to do comfortably, moving at a springy almost-jog. Howl just keeps looking at Anole for a moment, as if trying to discern his /true feelings/, but finally offers what is at least a fair attempt at a reassuring smile. "As long as you're sure it's okay." He pushes himself back up to stand upright one more time. "I won't let anything happen." The fact that Anole doesn't exactly know him any better than Micah does occur to him, but he decides now isn't the best time to point that out. After all, he doesn't know either of /them/ that well either and he's going into the same unknown situation. Keeping his grip on Anole's hand, he gives the boy a gentle tug as he turns to follow Micah. Anole is more hesitant; it takes a moment even now of watching Micah head off before he finally starts to move. He squeezes Howl’s hand again, and sticks close to the bigger man’s side, heading off through the park with the others.