ArchivedLogs:On the Fence

On the Fence
Dramatis Personae Horus, Isra, Jack
In Absentia	2015-05-13 "/Sometimes/ I am hats."
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 after dark, but it isn't really /late/ just yet. Getting there, slowly; but for now though the playgrounds are mostly empty there's still a fair number of people loitering in the park. Moreso over by one clearing around a fountain than in other places -- this is owing to a pair of teenage girls who have set up there, brightening the dusk with rapidly twirling fire. One wields a set of poi, the other a trio of hoops with flames dotted around them -- both very clearly quite skilled as they spin to a heavy drumbeat coming from a nearby stereo. Somewhere at the fringe-edge of Crowds and Firelight the spectacle has also attracted one curiously watching bird, perched just out of the edge of the light on the top bar of the fence that rings in a basketball court. Horus's feathers gleam faintly in the shifting light. They've been darkened, today; though he generally keeps the same /pattern/ of light and dark and speckles on his person the colors frequently shift. Today, a deep dark burgundy shade, highlit by subtle hints of gold that pick up the firelight in intermittent glimmer. His head bobs along to the drumbeat. Bop, bop, bop. The drumbeat is what's drawn Jack into this area of the park. Thankful for the cooler temperatures so he's not roasting in the jeans and hoodie he's got on, the invisible teen ia sticking to the fringe edge of the crowd as well, letting out a faint impressed whistle as he sees the fire twirling act. "Wow..." he trails off, head tilting to the side as he watches the show. Somewhere in the windier regions above, a long-winged shadow passes over the darkening sky and, banking, circles over the park. If anyone had the notion to look up and keen enough eyesight, they might discern one pale purple gargoyle, the membranes of her batlike wings a darker purple half-consumed with shimmering blue flames, clad in a complicated-looking green wrap dress. Isra hardly even moves her wings, not minding that she has begun to descend in slow spiral. Cat-green eyes track the fire-spinners appreciatively. Just when she seems ready to veer away again, she catches sight of Horus corrects her course to sweep out toward his perch. She lands in the abandoned ball court, not too close to Horus, but certainly near enough to see. Her horns gleam metallic blue in the firelight as she inclines her head. "Good evening." If she has noticed Jack at all, she probably thinks him just another hoodie in the the crowd. The approaching gargoyle earns a sudden low twittering from Horus. His head-bopping loses the beat, now just twitchy and restless as he shifts from one foot to the other. It takes a while before he dips his head to actually pick up the stylus around his neck, tap on his tablet so that he can swipe out a few words. The tablet voices for him in a robotic monotone: "/This/ fence is the Horus fence." Taptap. "Very strict rules here. In the this-part-park. They forgot to pit-pit-pit-pot-put it on the regular signs but. No eating Horuses. On this fence." His eyes dart to the fire spinning and then back down to his tablet, and as an afterthought he adds the caution: "Not a cooking fire." Still just a little on edge after the arrow incident, Jack tenses slightly when he catches motion out of the corner of his eye. The invisible teen's gaze is drawn upwards to the nearby ball court and he relaxes when he spots Horus and not a threat. He hasn't really met Horus before but he's seen him at the school before. Starting to turn to approach the perched Horus, Jack ends up surprised when Isra comes in for a landing. Another person he'd seen but never really had much interaction with. Smiling invisibly, he starts walking over to at least say hello. "It'd be pretty hard to cook anything with that fire," he speaks up when he gets close enough to not yet, overhearing that last caution. "I shall dutifully abide by the rules of this fence." Nothing about Isra's voice or demeanor indicates that she means this in jest. "If it reassures you further, I have just eaten. And a good evening to you." This last to Jack, whom she turns to face, though her ears had swiveled toward him on his approach. "I hope you have mended? And not too shy of the City, I see." Her eyes dart from one teen to the other. "Have you two met, at school, perhaps?" "Very hard," Horus agrees readily, not even looking up as he taps out this concurrence, "to cook. Anything. Most-especially-hard cooking birds." He glances up when done writing this, shifting uncomfortably on the fence again. His feathers ruffle up into a larger red-gold poof. "Those clothes are talking," he informs Isra; both the monotone robot-voice of his tablet and his own lack of any discernibly /human/ facial features make it trickier than usual to infer any tone from this. His talons click aganst the metal of the fence, his tail rustling down against it as it twitches. "You do not go to school." His eyes are flicking between /both/ the others; it's hard to say which he means. "Good evening to you too," Jack replies with another unseen smile and a quick wave of an empty sleeve. "I'm all healed up," he confirms with a nod. "Not going to hide away just cause I got attacked. Would have never made it this far if I did, ma'am," he adds quietly. Of course he's been avoiding that particular area of the city but he's not mentioning that. He shakes his head, hood moving from side to side at that question. "Not yet," he replies. He sighs a little as Horus poofs up and calls him talking clothes. "I'm not just clothes. I'm Jack," he introduces himself. "Glad to hear it." Isra tugs her dress to adjust it, her ears flicking from side to side rapidly at some change in the tempo of the music. "I had to leave the school on short notice, unfortunately." This to Horus, her expression placid but her tail swaying fast. "You may expect to see me around the Commons a lot more throughout the summer." "What how can you move in more than you have already. Move in. Living with the gamehaus already." Horus's head is back to bobbing; the tip of his stylus taps lightly against the edge of his tablet as he considers this. "Are you," he conjectures suddenly, "going to clone yourself. Twice the Isra. Twice the biting." He eyes her curiously. "Twice the /egg/?" Only after this questioning does he turn his attention uncertainly back to Jack. "I am not," he answers so helpfully. "Jack. Or clothes." Though immediately after this he corrects himself proudly: "/Sometimes/ I am hats." Jack glances towards the fire twirling when the music changes, a small impressed noise coming from him. His gaze turns back to Isra and Horus a moment later though. "I hope everything's okay," he offers quietly when Isra mentions having to leave the school. He ends up looking as confised as empty clothes can when Horus says he's hats. "Wait...what? You turn into hats?" "I suppose I had been spending most of my time at the Commons, outside of work." Isra's ears press back against her skull. "I had not thought about it like that, but no, I do not intend to clone myself. And one egg was more than enough, thank you." A faint smile finds its way onto her angular face, then. "Horus has a hat for every occasion. It impresses me, and I do not impress easily." "Turn into /many/ hat. All the jar-hag- no what I do not turn into those things -- hat hat hat HAT. All the HAT." Horus's swiping gets progressively more rapid as he frowns down at the tablet's autocorrect mistakes. "Hats for flying and hats for parties and hats for leading armies and hats for adventures and hats for being the firebird --" He pauses here to bop for a few beats more to the music, watching the fire-spinners with his feathers rustling out to the side. "Hats for delivery hats for woah what no." Someone at the edge of the milling onlookers has overheard the tablet, turned to get a look at the strange tablet'd bird-creature. Is pulling out a camera to snap a picture. Horus's feathers ruffle up further. "Not even IN my picture-hat, oh no, oh no, oh no!" The 'oh-no's' are fading into the sky together with a sudden-quick rustle of wings as he takes off. Disappears rather /swiftly/ into the darkened evening. "Oh, that makes more sense," Jack replies as Isra clears things up. He chuckles as Horus starts explaining too, nodding a long. "I'm more of a hood guy," he remarks, tugging the hood on his head. Of course when he sees the camera coming out, he's ducking his head to hide the whole 'lacking a face' thing. He frowns as Horus goes flying away though. "Should probably clear out..." he mutters. Isra stretches out one massive wing to shield Jack and levels a perfectly placid gaze at the would-be photographer--who quickly subsides and moves away. "I'll see you to the subway, at least." She settles her wings back to a loose mantle around her. "You needn't hide away, but that doesn't mean you must always walk alone, either."