ArchivedLogs:BOOKSMELLS

BOOKSMELLS
Dramatis Personae Fiona, Marinov	Wednesday In which Marinov and Fiona have a talk about mutant issues. Like tails. And whiskers.
Location <NYC> Strand Books - East Village
It's a Wednesday evening - late enough to be dark out but not late enough for some people to be affected by curfew, most likely. As much as Fiona enjoyed the public library, there's something about old book stores... just the smell and the overall atmosphere that Fiona really likes. She seems to be checking the time on her phone fairly often, but the reason why is unclear so far! Marinov is running late again, though not actually all that late, since they can usually make up differences in time with their impressive running speeds. The teen, wearing a red beret, an horizontal striped sweater and a pair of fitted jeans, opens the door and comes inside a bit out of breath. They take a sniff at the air and look around, trying to get a whiff of the fire breathing girl's unique odour. Marinov rounds the corner and, upon seeing her, comments: "Really smells like books in here." Fiona probably smells slightly like sulfur or... ash. Something slightly burnt. "Well, there are a lot of books in here," smiles the dragon girl, looking up from a pile of books. Books, books everywhere! And not totally well organized. "You made it! I like the beret," she comments. For her part, she is dressed in brown leather boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a green & black flannel shirt (the kind with the fleece inside for extra warmth). "We don't have to stay here if it bothers you. I just thought it was a neat place. Look at the selection!" "Oh, thanks," says Marinov, adjusting the beret a bit, "With my ears the way they are, it sorta fits weird! I got it for Christmas from the folks." They shrug lightly and then continue, "I don't mind staying here and going book shopping with you, I guess." They aren't super enthused about all these books, but not seeming outright negative! "The smell isn't bad or anything, just strong! But... my nose is like that, yeah?" "Oh... Well, I guess that makes sense, since I can smell it. I always kinda like the smell. Bookstores always smell like... cozy and safe," Fiona agrees, frowning a little when Marinov mentions their parents. "I should really call mine and let them know I'm okay still, I guess... I did talk to them on Christmas, at least. They were really happy that I found a place to sleep inside... not really happy that I'm still not going home," she pulls down a old copy of... something, from the 'mystery' section, peering through it. Dust galore! "Yeah, I think if I were in your situation, my parents would probably want to know my every move," says Marinov, giving a nod and a chuckle. They squint at the books on the shelf and sneeze a couple of feline sounding sneezes at the dust that's kicked up, shaking their head to clear it. "I think it'd probably nice to call 'em, especially if you have parents who care about you. Not everyone's got that, yeah?" "Oh... Sorry," Fiona murmurs, suddenly realizing about the dust. "Hmm yeah..." she agrees with Marinov, "I should probably call them more. They just worry SO much, it's hard to have a rational conversation with my mom, even. Half the time she is just yelling at me to come home. But if I go home, the attacks will probably resume, and I'm pretty sure the local police are in on it or at least know... you know, what's going on, and can't do anything." She sighs, "They won't be happy until I'm back in school somewhere or maybe living with a relative in another town. I don't think I have any relatives in New York though." "Ah, well, hopefully you'll be in school soon enough, yeah?" says Marinov, with a hopeful tone. They keep squinting at the books on the shelf, looking back towards Fiona. "But yeah, if you're scared for your life, no sense in going back there. Better that you stay safe and alive. But like I said, hopefully you'll be in school again soon, getting your education." Fiona hesitates for a moment, before explaining, "Well, I guess the education part is important, but I'm really just looking for a place to call home..." she trails off, then adds quickly, "Don't get me wrong. I do wanna go back to school. I liked school, mostly. But I dunno if I'll ever be able to actually go /home./ I hope I can find someplace like that here." "Heh yeah, I know what you mean," says Marinov, "And... yeah, the place I go to school is a lot like that. I mean, it's a boarding school, yeah? But probably better than most boarding schools out there." They tap the spine of one of the books with a claw idly. "I hope I didn't scare you off of it before, 'cause... I didn't want you to think its perfect or whatever, 'cause nothing's perfect, but it's pretty decent for sure." "I really wanna try it out, at least," Fiona bites her lip, one fang showing. "I think if it worked out that'd be pretty amazing," she nods. "Otherwise, I mean you were there, but I think Paige wants me to move in with her. Which would be okay, but... sounds kinda hard," she changes the subject, "Your eyes are really pretty. Can you see color? Like, I know regular cats can't really see color," she points to her glasses, "My vision is really bad, but apparently it's not part of the whole mutant thing, it's just hereditary from having nerds as parents." "Huh? Oh... I can't see things in detail when they're close. I'm better at seeing motion..." says Marinov, sheepishly, "I can see colours, though, it's just that they're a bit more washed out than they used to be. But everything is a lot sharper at night, so... I dunno. It's just different, I guess. But I can tell what colours are what, so I still know what goes with what, you know?" They cross their arms over their chest. "I guess knowing and seeing aren't really all the same, though." "Well I suppose that goes back to the whole thing, where it's like, how do you know red is actually red?" Fiona rubs the back of her neck, wondering if she embarrassed Marinov at all. That wouldn't do at all... Putting new friends on the spot. Is Marinov a friend? Well, she thinks of them as one, anyway... "Does that mean books aren't a great thing to hang out and... do?" 'Do books?' Like... "Uhh, well, I can't really read them without stupid reading glasses," admits Marinov, "So... it's fine to hang around here or whatever. Stories are cool and stuff, but I can't really read 'em." They shrug and then say, "I can sorta read my phone better, 'cause I can control the font, though. I can make it really big if I need to so it doesn't matter as much." The teen shows their phone's screen demonstratively, and indeed, all the letters are blown up to grandmother reading size. "Well, if it makes you feel any better..." Fiona takes off her glasses and sets them over Marinov's eyes. Awkwardly. Marinov might notice that they're at least a little heavy! And a pretty strong prescription. Anyway, now Fiona can't really see anything at all! So what was the point of all that? More of a whim than anything else... "Wow, your prescription is terrible," states Marinov flatly, blinking with wide eyes at the world around, "I can't tell what anything is. It's just stuff all smeared together." They take off the glasses and offer them back to Fiona. "I think my eyes are just better at different things now. Like, I can tell that there is a bug or something on the shelf there," they point to a beetle a ways away, "'cause it's moving, but when it stops moving, I'll probably lose track of it pretty quick. Just stupid eye stuff!" "Yeah, I'm really afraid that I'll lose my glasses at some point and then I'll be like some old blind woman, walking down the street with a stick trying not to bump into people..." Fiona trails off. No seriously, she's afraid of that. "So, a lot like a regular cat, then... I watched this thing on TV a while back about how housecats have whiskers because they can't see well up close. Helps them catch prey in confined areas." "I sort of looked up a lot of cat stuff, 'cause I wanted to know about... you know, what to expect I guess? And yeah, I guess that's a thing," says Marinov, nodding a few times. Their ears flick a couple of times ightly, "I have whiskers too, yeah? I'm not like... a super big fan of the whole 'turning into a catmonster and can't turn back' thing, but whiskers are pretty useful, and a tail is good for balance..." "Well, just think of it - when you get old, you won't look wrinkly," nods Fiona. "Anyway, I dunno if you're a catmonster or not. You're more like... well, a cat-something. Definitely not a monster though..." she murmurs, "You know, monsters don't make great friends, yeah?" she snickers. "I think it's kinda neat, actually. Also, tails ARE pretty useful. I don't really know how normal people can get by or walk without one... always mystifies me." "Uhh, I guess I won't look wrinkly, but I might look ragged. Have you seen old cat? They look fuckin' worn out," says Marinov, ears flicking again, "Not that I am actually a cat. I mean, ultimately, I'm just as much a person as always! And... who says monsters can't make good friends? Have you seen that movie with the monsters in it?" Marinov looks smug like that line was a checkmate. Argument WON. Not that there is much of an argument happening. "And... I dunno, I got by alright without it, but now I can sorta like... balance on branches and stuff?" "Well, yeah..." Hrmph. "Only SOME old cats though. Well. Okay. Most of them... and..." Well, Fiona really can't compete with that. "I think I'm too heavy to do that... I'm not much of a tree climber. But I like my tail! I've never not had a tail though," she ponders, sliding the book back onto the shelf that she was looking at. "You wanna go grab a bite? Maybe a kabob or something?" she asks, "I need to get up and walk a little." "Yeah, a bite would be good... I mean... I'm sort of limited in my dietary choices, yeah? But I think a kebab would be fine," decides Marinov, nodding a few times. They glance around at all these books and start to walk back towards the door. "Smell ya later, books."