ArchivedLogs:All Bark

All Bark
Dramatis Personae Violet, Micah, Corey, Dusk
In Absentia	24 June 2014 Like cats and dogs...
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It's Pride! Tompkins Square Park is crowded on any randomly chosen summer evening but this one sees an exceptional crowd, many of them in high spirits--June 24th is Family Night, and is anything cuter than tots on shoulders with little rainbow flags on their cheeks? No, no, nothing is cuter... Unless you're Violet and come pre-built with ample fuzz and a streak of mischief a mile wide. The crowd noise is /nothing/ compared to the harsh chorus of barks that drift from the location of the dog park. Normally the dog park here is full of romping canines but instead of romping, this evening the pooches are all lined up along the fence. Fixated. FURIOUS. Why? Because Violet lounges not four feet away on top of one of the picnic tables. She's got her hood down, the hoodie unzipped, fur on display and her tail a lazy pendulum dripping off the side of the table. Also ticktocking is one lazily swinging foot--bare, the white curl of claws easily visible against all of her dark. She is pretending to ignore the barking and flying drool as the dogs work themselves up into a froth. Her head is tilted back and she is ever so casually eyeballing a silver and blue balloon caught in the branches of the tree overhead. La la la. There is a one-eyed beagle dancing at the end of his leash who would /very much/ like to see what all the commotion is about in the park. Or what that little boy is running after over there! Or get one of those hot dogs that guy is eating! Or ice cream, ice cream is good. SQUIRREL! Or dog park, dog park is full of things. The other end of the leash has a Micah attached to it by one hand, messenger bag thump-thumping against his hip as he picks up the pace to keep up with Obie. Attempts to keep the beagle at heel are likely more /comical/ than effective. He manages to reel the pup in a bit before reaching the park, wary of all the hullabaloo inside. Micah is dressed after-work casual in a Reading Rainbow-dash T-shirt and rainbow-patched jeans (coincidentally blending well with the Pride crowd), sneakers, and an olive newsboy cap to keep the sun out of his eyes. His auburn hair is sticking out from under it all at angles. "Violet, sugar, you okay in here?" he calls as the dog pulls him closer to her table, that furry figure rather familiar by now. Appearing to be dressed for jogging in a navy blue tank top and a pair of black shorts, Corey seems surprised to see the park so crowded but just shrugs it off as a a toll for being lost in work and study. Walking through the assorted people and childrens, he is almost as tall as some of the wee ones on shoulders, and with a smile he threads through the crowd to see what is to be seen. The barking however draws more attention though and with brow raised he moves to look at the fence and the slobbering masses. The figure on the table draws his attention, though Micah and Obie being there brings back the smile as he offers a casual wave. "Well, this is a bit louder than I expected the park to be." In a crowd -- an organized one, which means sponsored event, which means /lots/ of people, lots of families with children, lots of /cops/, Dusk should probably, would usually probably, be doing a better job of not being on display himself. Today, though, he's descending into the park from /above/, with a whoosh of breeze, a flap of ridiculously enormous wings that fold in behind himself as he lands in gargoyle-crouch atop the fence that rings the dog park. In Vans sneakers, cargo shorts, no shirt, boxy monitor strapped around his ankle, sunglasses, he draws more stares than smiles, wing flicking up out of reach of one barking dog who is jumping close enough to nip at its long tip. "Jesus." His fangs are bared probably wider than they need to be in sharp grin tipped over towards Violet. "You've got everyone's blood up." Violet, okay? She /had/ been okay but when she turns her head and spies Micah cheating on her with a /beagle/, eyes are set to narrow and ears to backtilted. It is a look that says she has been betrayed, Micah. /Betrayed/. Rendered heartbroken! Except not really because the idle back and forth rhythm adopted by her tail never missed a beat. "Sure, sure," she drawls in her coastal twang. Pure music, compared to the chorus over there. A huge shaggy St. Bernard has his paws up on the chainlink. Sheltering in his lee is a handful of TicTac sized yippy dogs trying to outdo his immense whuffs in quantity, if not quality. A hound, a mutt, a German Shepherd, a boxer...there's a good mix today. "I think they got me confused with someone else," the catgirl hollers over the din; her head has tilted again with Corey given the side eye before she observes Dusk pulling a daytime batman stunt. "Could be said I've got that effect on people. Li'l bit of a show off, y'know?" She thinks he /does/. And she's not the only one who's noticed. A clump of dog owners had been scowling and moving in their direction. Upon sighting of Dusk, however, their coordinated progress comes to a grinding halt. They stop to confer, though one big dude--if one were to judge by visuals alone, he probably owns that unfixed pit bull right there in the corner--continues rolling on towards the fence. Micah's brows lift in concern, lips simultaneously quirking over to one side in amusement, at Violet's...predicament? She sure seems to be there voluntarily. And the /looks/ Obie's getting. "Sure y'ain't got bacon in your pockets?" he jokes, short-leashing Obie as he draws close to Violet. "This's Obie. He's been 'round...longer'n I have, honestly. Jax's had 'im a good while." The beagle, meanwhile, is entranced watching that tail, whining at not being allowed to go SNIFF. /Why no sniffing?/ Corey's voice surprises him into a little turn to regard the other man. "Oh, Corey! Hello. S'pride over there. Kinda...feline-canine dynamic over here. Violet, that's Corey. S'a friend of mine. An' this is Violet. She's bein' the centre of canine attention, 'parently." Though Dusk seems to be doing a good job of stealing /some/ of that spotlight. "Dusk? Gosh, everybody's out t'day. Hey." The previously lofted brows come crashing down toward one another in renewed concern. "/You/ okay, hon? Y'usually don't.../that/ so much. In crowded spots." Regardless of worry, Dusk's /blood/ comment sparks a little giggle. "Guess you'd know if anybody would." The descending Dusk draws a smile, and Corey inclines his head at the winged man, glad that he's doing better than when he had last saw him. "Nice to meet you Violet, interesting sitting spot you've chosen," he says loud enough to be heard over the dogs. Moving to stand beside Micah so he doesn't quite have to shout quite so much, he waggles his fingers at Obie in amusement with the sniffer. "Nice to see you again as well Dusk," he says with a nod, then glances over his shoulder at the dog owners. As the big dude approaches though, he raises an eyebrow and shifts a little to better block out his own bigness. "Hey, if you've got it --" Dusk doesn't finish this so much as the flick of his wing towards Violet's outstretched furry form /implies/ flaunting it. His wings twitch again, pulling up away from the dogs with a sudden growl of his own, teeth baring down to them before his lazy smile turns back out to the /two/-legged folk. "Eh? Yeah, it's gotten me into some trouble before, uh, I've had like. Fucking. Five tickets now, you know /flying's/ an offense. Having wings, okay, using 'em." He draws his hand across his neck, slipping a hand into his pocket to dig a pack of cigarettes out of it -- though /this/, at least, he puts back away with a glance towards a nearby police officer. "Again?" He draws his brows together with a briefly puzzled look towards Corey that clears up in a sudden: "/Oh/. Oh, /shit/. I guess I owe you like a dozen beers, dude. I don't even know what I owe you. A lot." It is very likely that Violet is deliberately teasing Obie, what with the way she lets the tip of her tail swish in his general direction. Maybe it's bacon. Maybe she just smells that good! But with a fence between herself and the slavering hounds--as opposed to the simply sniffing one--she seems comfortable enough. She doesn't deign to keep an eye on the thug in the wifebeater drawing closer. "Hey Corey." An ear flick serves in lieu of wave. "It kinda picked me. C'mon, tell me it isn't perfect." Go on, tell her. She's grinning, waiting for anyone, anyone!, to come right out and say why this might be a bad idea. "Can't you just like...fly away?" One would think that nearby police officer would be paying close attention. All the commotion, right? But there are a lot of people here and a few barking dogs is the least of his worries--though he might have amended that opinion had he looked over to see Dusk flying. But...he didn't. And that's what leads to what happens next. Scowling bruiser doesn't even hesitate. He's sized up Dusk, sized up Violet, gotten a look at Corey and Micah and even Obie...and he figures a couple of freaks and their freaky freak-lovers are an annoyance he can scatter. Without missing a beat, he leans down to scoop his dog up--it might even look like he intends to cart the snarling and unfortunately scarred canine off--and just boosts his right up over the fence. Dogplosion! "Lotta folks owe you a lotta thanks," Micah adds to Dusk's gratitude, something that he's likely repeated to Corey in different words more times than anyone would care to count. Obie is stretching and sniffing as if sniffing /harder/ might elongate his nose to reach the tail. So...very...close! Sniff? Sniff! "Um. Are we worried 'bout that guy?" He half-nods in the direction of the fellow approaching the fence. "What in the...? Why would he...? Oh, son of a /biscuit/." For lack of any better plan, he scoops up the beagle and deposits him on the table. Captain Oblivious is just /ecstatic/ to be in range of Violet once he gets there. Snufflesnufflesnuffle, tailwag. He has found a /very/ interesting arm! Corey shakes his head at Dusk's owing of beers. "No no, I didn't do that much. But I will pass on your thanks to my friend. I'm glad you're feeling better, and everything worked out." He looks a little embarrassed at the additional praise from Micah, running a hand through his hair to give him a moment to pass the social matter. "Worried? He wouldn't do something that stuu.." and pauses as the dog gets boosted over the fence. "Sunovabitch," he murmurs and puts himself in between the incoming dog and Violet. "Get your damn dog, man!" he shouts at the jerkface. "Sure, yeah, but they were all pretty close to home and I'm /kind/ of distinctive, the cops there know where to find me if --" Dusk's brows are lifting again as the man approaches. "Aw, hey, I /like/ pitties --" Though his almost-cooing smile breaks off abruptly into a sharp-toothed snarl of his own, directed towards human and not canine with this sudden move. He hops down off the fence, now, his wings flaring /wide/ -- and they /are/ wide, upwards of seventeen feet of clawed wingspan as he stretches them in barrier between dog-fence and table. His growl thrums again harsh in his throat. "Fuck's your damn problem?" "Get your god damned muties out've the park!" the dog's owner shouts back. Others in that pack of parkgoers are running towards them now, most with leashes in hand--intending to get their own animals out of there before it becomes an all out brawl. But they'll have to move fast. Some of the other, larger dogs are already bouncing, jumping, leaping, trying to get over the fence to follow the pitty. One intrepid shepherd mix almost makes it, hooking his paws over the top and scrabbling at the diamond-patterned wire madly before falling back down. The loose dog veers when Dusk's wings snap out. His mad barking continues but he dances clear--wary of that sudden snap and rustling, of the man's /smell/, but still decidedly aggressive. And Violet? She is no longer lounging, having coiled herself into a bristling ball of tortie fur and bared teeth. Poor Obie might get an elbow to the snout as she rearranges herself, trying to see /around/ Corey and Dusk to the threat of dog offa leash. Micah follows soon after Obie, clambering up onto the bench of the table less than gracefully. He adds a hand to Obie's shoulders, still holding his leash, as well. The little elbow to the snoot earns a yelp from the beagle and a look of betrayal. Why, kitty, why? This /might/ be a practiced look from when he shared an apartment with Sprite. He nudges back against Micah for comfort, nuzzling at the restraining/protective hand. This doesn't seem to be going anywhere good. In an attempt to distract the dog, Micah takes a handful of training treats from Obie's stash and chucks them away from the group. His arm wraps tighter around the beagle, meanwhile, to prevent /him/ from running after the airborne snack. His free hand hurries into his pocket for his phone and its recording function. If it comes down to it, the /last/ thing they need is a he-said she-said mutant-attacked-my-dog claim. Particularly with Dusk involved. "Damn moron," Corey mutters as he lowers his body mass and approaches the dog with arms wide. "Ey there boy, calm on down. Shhh shhh shh," he tries to talk soothingly as he glances over his shoulder at the incoming treats from Micah. Nodding in thanks, he continues to offer calming platitudes towards the dog, though trying to get close enough to grab the collar. Dusk's growl deepens, low and rough; there's a brief quiver of his wings that is enough to send a small ripple of draft towards the dog owner. "Someone needs a fucking leash on you, man." His fangs are still bared, gleaming and sharp, and his head turns very briefly to glance towards the clamour of attempted-escape by the fence. His growling stops -- though the noticeable vibration coming from the very prominent protrusion in his throat doesn't. The /humans/ in the park probably can't /hear/ the incredibly high-pitched thrum that hums from his throat now, though, though to canine senses it's keen-sharp enough, his own personal sudden dogwhistle as the mob of owners approach to try and collect their various brood. "S'our goddamn park, too. Get your dog." Violet is heedless of bruised beagle feelings. She spares a look for Micah--the way a growl whines from her throat when she glances is unintended, not meant for him at all!--before snapping eyes forward again. If one were to touch her, sparks of static would leap from fingertips to the lifted brush of her fur. Cats, it would appear, are not future thinking. But...she can plot a few steps ahead and one of those steps includes angry dog - human-sized cat = less angry dog. So behind the shade cast by Dusk and his wingspan, she wiggles backwards to ooze off of the table and slink off. Fortunately for her, the pitty is being confused and confounded, too much so to notice her escape. Treats? Treats! And a kind voice, and human hands reaching for him and--nooo, whistle! Absolutely puzzled, the dog gives a low and choppy whine before cutting back towards the fence. His human is none too pleased. There is blustering going on, a puffing up that does nothing to minimize the paunch visible beneath his tank. "You wanna start something? Huh? You come on over here and see if I ain't got a leash for you, you fucking /freak/." Micah keeps his grip on Obie with one arm, phone now up and recording in the opposite hand. He mutters soothing nonsense at the beagle, who has finally figured out that something is wrong and is droop-eared and tail-tucked where he crouches on top of the table. Micah spares a glance and a nod to Violet as she slinks away, eyes quickly drawn back to Corey and Dusk and the action near the fence. He relaxes /slightly/ when the dog pulls away, though his teeth set on edge as the man continues yelling. Whether it's bluster or more trouble to come remains to be seen. And caught on /camera/ if Mouthy decides to do more than blabber. "Just go home, sir. And find a dog trainer to help you socialize your dog better so situations like this don't happen again," Corey shakes his head and moves back to Micah. "Maybe we can take your dog on a walk somewhere nicer," he says and offers his hand to Obie to help soothe the poor droop-eared puppy. Glancing to Dusk, he seems to think a moment, then tilts his head. "Hey, let's go get some beers while we're at it." Yes, defuse the situation. Dusk's wings pull back in as the dog moves off, though his fangs are still bared sharply. "I don't think it's the /dog/ that needs better socialization," he rumbles back to Corey, low and a little growly again. His scruffy-bearded chin tips up at the question, lips peeling back in an oddly sharp /grin/. "Yeah? You want to try that?" His wings tighten at his back, hands turning palm-up in front of him. "Banners say this is Family Night. These --" One long upper thumbclaw flicks back over his shoulder, though there's a little bit of a puzzled frown pulling his brows in as he glances back and sees Violet oozing off. "-- are /my/ family." He steps over closer to the man, lanky-lean arms dropping back to his sides. "And we belong here as much as you fucking do." Violet doesn't go /far/. Although that might be difficult to discern from the boys' angle. She is doing what cats do best, however, and that is making herself scarce, finding camouflage from which to size up the situation. See that tree? That tree is now +1 catgirl, climbing and laying belly down behind a screen of leaves accomplished in the time it takes for Micah to offer up that nod. No cats here, newp newp newp. And remember that cop? Uggo's expression grows darker at Corey's remarks but Dusk's little display there--the calling of his bluff--takes some of the wind from his sails. Until his eyes flick past the clump of people at the picnic table and spy that uniformed gentleman. "HEY!" he cups his hands beside his mouth to bellow. "Hey, you just gonna stand there! This freak just threatened me!" Heads turn. Including the cop's. Shaking his head, Corey rolls his eyes. "Alright Micah, time to show the nice police officer the lovely evidence to the contrary. Maybe he can get taken in on threats and attempted assault with a deadly weapon. I mean some courts have taken that stance with dogs before." He gestures for the cop to come over, and looks towards the idiot making claims. "I mean, you wanted the cops to keep the park safe after all, and you're the only one trying to harm anyone." Now that things seem to be settling, Micah sets Obie back on the ground and brings him rather /unwillingly/ over to Corey and Dusk for back-up. He holds up the phone with the obvious video light on. “Y'wanna let anybody see what was just said an' try that claim again?” He reaches the hand with the slack leash in it up to brush against Dusk's wing in that familiar way he has. If things stay calm, he nudge-nuzzles into it further. Very /there/. Present. In the way. Nonaggressive. And holding evidence. Dusk's growl rumbles up sudden and harsh, thrumming in his throat as his wings start to curl outward. His head turns, too, a sharp snap of motion to look towards the cop with his lean muscles very abruptly tensed, teeth very abruptly bared. "-- By what, fucking /existing/, I --" His hands have been curling into fists but his words cut off, fingers unclenching as Micah's fingers brush against his unfurling wing. One wing pulls back in against his back, the other brushing up against Micah's shoulder; a very definite tense /tremble/ can be felt where the supple skin rests against the other man. He looks between Micah and Corey, teeth still bared until he remembers to close his lips. "I didn't -- this motherfucker used his poor /dog/ --" The cop looks hot, tired and not entirely impressed. But he does begin to walk towards the dog park. Slowly. His working theory seems to be that if he moves slowly enough perhaps it will have blown over by the time he gets there? And Uggo is certainly looking tempted. He'd overlooked the phone, see. But when Micah lifts it in a way that can't be missed, he spits a few less printable obscenities--none of them kind to Dusk or the gentlemen that he's apparently doing unspeakable things in bed with. This is how rumors get started! But after that last volley is delivered, he turns to bark, "Hippo!" at his poor dog before stalking off. Maybe that cop is psychic. Micah melts back into Dusk's wing, nuzzling a cheek against it now. Maybe just nuzzling and maybe being flagrant and defiant in light of the man's attempts to hurl invective. "Y'think he's been spyin' on us, sugar? Some of that was eerily accurate. Might need t'start shuttin' the drapes more thorough." The look he gives Dusk is cheeky-playful, one eyebrow arched and lips drawn into a lopsided grin. Sighing and shaking his head, Corey looks skywards. "May god protect us from morons," he says in a little prayer and scratches the side of his head. "Well, that pretty much ruined my plans." He chuckles at Micah's reaction to the venom and shakes his head though. "You're a better man than I my friend. I think I'm going to go tear up some sidewalk in Central Park just to get the stupid off me." Looking to Dusk, he inclines his head, but shakes it mournfully "The shit you have to put up with, it's messed up. I'm glad you're feeling better physically at least. " Turning, he glances through the crowd to figure a good exit path. "God'd have to work overtime, there's a fucking shit-ton of them around here." Dusk shivers, his wing still trembling against Micah's nuzzling. The tension doesn't leave his lean frame, his wing snaking out further to wrap properly /around/ Micah in a tight squeeze. His hand circles against his heart, small and quick in a muttered 'sorry' at Corey's mention of ruined plans. His head turns slightly, gaze not leaving the slowly walking cop even after the man has walked off. "Thanks," he adds, quiet and distracted to Corey's well-wishes. His wing grips tighter around Micah. "Where /did/ Violet scuttle off too. Christ. I could use that fucking beer. Or three." "That was pretty impressive." Speak of the devil, and up she pops. Here's Violet, falling in to one side of the Micah-Dusk pairing. Her tail swings agitated behind her and her eyes are flicking, quick quick quick, across the assorted parkgoers. Fur has yet to settle; she's looking a little chubby. "You're like four fellas wide when you go all wingy and I think maybe I could spring for a couple've beers, on me, c'mon," she rattles off before ducking around to lead the way--having sized up the /least/ populated path, naturally. See? Being up in that tree was a good thing. “Thanks, Corey. Good luck, hon.” Micah snuggles all the more into the wingy grip. He doesn't seem at all startled when Violet reappears. “Maybe we should go to Evolve? They'll let us sneak Obie in an hide out upstairs where the alcohol is. Benefits of knowin' the owners'n all.”