ArchivedLogs:Behave

Behave
Dramatis Personae K.C., Lia, Anette
In Absentia	3 July 2014 Something is strange in the park today. Or crazy. Maybe that.
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. The heat probably would be driving most people indoors, most days; but today is the eve of a /holiday/ and despite the sweltering-humid weather it's pulled quite a few people out as they enjoy the starts of their long weekend. Over near the dog park there is one lean figure enjoying the company of the /four/-legged crowd; K.C. is largely avoiding the /people/ congregating in other areas of park and, instead, leans up against the inside of the fence as the dogs romp. One shaggy mottled black-and-brown mutt trots over after what looks like a very exuberant romp with a sleek ridgeback. K.C. stoops as the dog leans up against her legs, opening a water bottle to tip it out into a plastic dish nearby her feet. She's dressed in nondescript loose clothes; a pair of khaki cargo shorts, sneakers, a pale grey muscle shirt; between the baggy boy-clothes and her short-shorn hair there's not much readily identifiable /gender/ about her. Even her voice is husky-deep, a low murmur as she straightens from filling the dog's water -- "There. Good. Don't die." There isn't much to worry about from the heat when one leaves her body at home, curled up safe in the curtained space beneath a lofted bed. Even as such, Lia decided today would be a good day to play in /water/, sending her consciousness out to settle in a little pudgy stone cherub statue situated conveniently in a fountain at the park. It is amazing how much people will take for granted, barely offering second glances to the tiny stone form splashing about in the water. Eventually a single fountain can only hold a girl's attention for so long, however, and Lia scampers her way through foliage and flowers over to the dog park to watch the /fuzzies/ at play. Her tiny-hands wrap into the low boughs of a vibrant-green bush as she watches with wide stone eyes. Despite the warm weather, Anette still wears a long, leather coat. A thinner one, meant for spring, but it's still warm. And despite her red face and the beads of sweat, she shows no signs of wanting to take it off. Still, she's managing to cope. She's currently sucking on a cherry slushie and she's keeping to the shade as she walks through the park. She keeps to herself mostly, except for idle glances to watch the dogs playing. She seems content enough with that, at least until she sees a stone statue run across her path. "What the..." she mumbles, freezing and watching it run off. "I need more sleep..." she groans, rubbing the dark circles under her eyes. K.C. looks back up at the scampering approach, her brows pulling together into a deep frown. One hand curls across her chest, shoulders hunching slightly inward. She looks back down at the dog, and, a moment later, glances back up swiftly towards the statue as though perhaps if she looked away it might have vanished. Her teeth press down against her lip, one hand lifting to scuff behind her short hair. For a moment her eyes linger on the small statue before she tips forward to curl her own fingers up against the fence. "Yeahokay," she says, almost to herself, "more sleep --" And then to the statue: "Move." Anette's eye rubbing is a common enough response, bearing no excessive watchfulness. But K.C.'s notice is more pointed. The statue freezes, looking /very/ stone-like indeed for a moment. But K.C. does have that /puppy/ on her. And the benefits of not being in one's body include the handy abilities both not to be in any physical danger and to be capable of fleeing the present form at a moment's notice. These points are weighed in Lia's mind for a moment, then the statue's hand moves, extends a finger, and points back to its pudgy cherub chest with an innocent 'Who me?' expression. Cherubs are /good/ for innocent looks. Anette's eyes shoot open when the statue speaks. "You're...you're seeing this, too, right?" she asks, glancing to K.C. She quickly finds an empty park bench and sits down, her eyes never leaving the statue. "I'm...going to assume mutie?" she asks quietly, completely ignoring all the cute widdle fluffy puppy-wuppies around. "This --" K.C. isn't really making eye contact with Anette, just /frowning/ through the fence. Her fingers lift, twitching briefly in the air beside her before her hand moves back to curl around the fence again. "-- There. Moved again." She seems oddly /satisfied/ by this, when the cherub responds to the command. Though her ensuing: "You're a /statue/," is just kind of accusatory. The cherub's eyes track over to Anette, expression a little less certain at her added attention. K.C.'s satisfied tone at her moving sparks up Lia's mischievous streak, however, a brief delighted look well at home on the dimpled cheeks. She nods once, slow and mute, at the accusation. Anette continues to stare at the cherub a little longer, before sighing and leaning back against the bench. "Wouldn't be the weirdest thing this week..." she says, sipping at her slushie. "Goddamn it's hot," she groans. "What the hell are you guys doing out here? I don't even know why I'm out here." So says the one wearing a coat in summer. "Nnnn --" K.C. bats at the air for a moment and then returns once more to clinging to the fence. "No, definitely -- weirdest. Most strange. Very -- very strange, that's a /statue/. Statues don't walk, hey -- hey why do you walk?" She leans a little more heavily against the fence, eyes still locked on the cherub. "-- Dogs," is her explanation to Anette. The cherub's hands slide over her plump arms at the mention of it being too hot to be outside, then she shrugs. The stone isn't at much risk of overheating. The roguish grin returns at K.C.'s declaration of strangeness, only compounded by a fey little /giggle/ to answer the question of walking. The statue picks up her feet and marches them in place. See? Legs are for walking. Lia's interest sparks again at the mention of dogs, the cherub's curly-locked head nodding fervently and arm stretching out in the direction of /puppy/. Anette looks over to the cherub and grins. "I suppose you're ok with the heat. Must be nice to be stone." She rises and wipes some sweat off her face, finishing off her slushie. "I'm out of her, I need some A/C. Behave yourselves," she says, making her way down the path again. "Why." K.C.'s next question is somewhat demanding, when the cherub marches in place. "That's just silly, now you're being. You're being /silly/, statues don't walk." Her frown deepens with Anette's parting. "... am behaving," she insists down to the mottled mutt beside her. "She's behaving too. You're not," this time she's informing the statue quite seriously, "behaving." Another nod serves as reply to Anette's observation and Lia adds a little wave in farewell as the woman retreats to cooler locales. Again, a bob of the head to agree with K.C. Behaving, and with the puppy behaving...then wide-eyed, head shaking /vehemently/ at the accusation that /she/ is not. She reaches back to pet the miniature stone wings at her back, then describes a halo over her head using her index fingers. /So/ behaving. "No -- no you're not. An angel you're just. A /statue/ of an angel, tell her --" K.C. looks down at the dog beside her, stopping with a short frustrated breath when the dog just looks back up, bright-eyed and waggy-tailed but definitely not about to join in the /conversation/ any time soon. "No, see," she points to the dog, stooping afterwards to ruffle the mutt's head, "/she's/ behaving. That's not how statues /behave/ what did you --" She finally clips a leash back on the dog, tipping out the rest of the water to return the dish and water bottle both to a nearby backpack. She slips out of the fence with the mutt in tow, heading over to /circle/ clockwise and then counter-clockwise around the statue. "There's no button, where's off?" Lia wilts a bit exaggeratedly when informed that she isn't an angel. A statue of one, though...surely that's as good? She returns to grinning as the puppy is brought /closer/. Victory! Pudgy fingers reach out for /petting/ that pretty fur. The girl is a bit too focused on the puppy when the last question comes, a little giggle followed by, "There is no /button/. It is not a toy," spoken in an amused young-female voice through the little cupid's bow lips. The dog is mostly /puzzled/ by those reaching fingers, stretching her head forward to sniff curiously at the hands but then shrinking back uncertainly when there's /rock/-smell and not /human/-smell to be found on this strange moving object. She's slower to slink forward again, warily circling the statue as well in inspection. K.C., meanwhile, spooks slightly backwards when the statue talks. "Not behaving," she mutters to herself again, still inspecting the statue. "No that's. That's what, that's a /robot/ I don't know. What is that." A delighted but soft young-girl squeal is sparked by the sniffing at the statue's fingers. Lia keeps her hand out, waiting for the puppy to come back. She startles slightly when K.C. does. "Not a robot. A statue. I borrowed it." Her gaze slides back to the puppy a bit here, a bit there, though she does /mostly/ keep her eyes on K.C. as she speaks. "No, but that's -- that's not, that's not how to /statue/." K.C. rubs at her fuzzy head, fingers curling in to pluck -- though there's not really enough hair to get a /grip/ on, so it's a sort of futile gesture. "You should put it /back/." The mutt, meanwhile, has finished her sniffing and decided: okay, statue. Accordingly, she moves in to squat closer and pee on its foot. "I borrowed it," Lia reiterates, as if this should offer adequate explanation. "I'll put it back later. I always put it back. I wanted to see the puppies." The pudgy child-face on the statue might make this statement sound a shade more petulant than it was intended. The dog's /squatting/ sparks a small cry of surprise, the cherub dancing back several steps. Not that it's likely to /bother/ the statue, but some things are reflexive and 'don't get peed on' is one of those /things/. "Nonono. Statue has to go back in the fountain. No doggy messes in the fountain water." The dog gives a small whine when the statue dances away. HEY. Was peeing there. She is, though, right in mid-stream so doesn't actually make any move to follow. "You can't /borrow/ a statue, that's not how -- it's stone how is it -- turn it off." K.C.'s fingers are plucking at her hair again. "Where are you, you can't just have statues. Walking." She turns her head, looking over a shoulder back towards the center of the park where the fountain is. "Maybe you're crazy." She finally arrives at this decision with a firm nod of her head. Lia looks a little apologetic when the dog whines. A /little/. It /is/ still peeing over there. "I borrow statues. And dolls. And models. And toys. And mannequins..." She leaves off the list that could grow rather long. "Mostly they walk fine." The cherub's lips tip upward at a sardonic angle that doesn't quite suit the medium at the accusation of insanity. "That is the popular theory." Her eyes dart back to the dog before she answers. "I'm not here. Well...thought-me is here. The magic parts. The rest of me is at school. Not here anymore. They blew up the building where I used to stay here." K.C. picks at her short fuzz of hair once more, finally retracting the dogleash farther in when the bitch finishes peeing. "Magic -- blowing up. No, you -- maybe /I'm/ crazy. Also. Also crazy. I don't usually -- see the crazy things but maybe I'm a." She turns aside, one hand gripping the leash and the other scratching fingers against the strap of her bag as she starts to walk off -- still talking quietly to herself. "Because that's not appropriate for how statues should behave. The rest of the park is behaving though. Maybe I went just a /little/ crazy --" Her words fade off as she heads farther into the distance. “It blew up right over there,” Lia protests, gesturing toward the remains of the Lofts building over /that way/. “Goodnight, puppy.” Clearly another dog must be found for the watching. The little cherub feet scamper off again, through the underbrush, skirting the dog park once more.