Central Park South --
Peacefulness
seems to emanate from
----
The
coolness of evening slipping in with the lingering spring sunlight, the park is
abustle with all sorts come to enjoy the closest thing to nature most of them
ever see. And, of course, all sorts includes the sorts who generally avoid the
rest. As such, in one of the less populated areas of the park, a little off the
normal trails in a small grove that's probably drawn hundreds over time for the
sense of nature and peace in the city, one particularly antisocial figure is
found. Just now the black-clad young man is coming to a breathy halt from
labored run of what to him is a pathetically short distance, one of his arms
held close to his ribs where only a few days ago a wall had the nerve to run
into him and cause at least one fracture. Regardless of how much it hurts,
whether on all fours or just on his rear legs, Cade was growing entirely too
sick of being cooped up in his loft, afraid the flying dominatrix from hell was
going to come for him any second. As such, in the truly stubborn style of a
Welshman, he decided to go for a jog in an area he'd only seen briefly before.
Whether he's going to regret having come here or not has yet to be seen.
And
Rahne too is one of those who longs for some sense of nature within the
concrete jungle. The smells, the sounds, the sights of the city are all wrong
to her. Even here in the park, she cannot completely get free of those irksome
city noises, the sounds of car horns and heavy trucks lumbering by. And so she
continues delving deeper and deeper into the park, veering off of the beaten
path in the hopes of finding a little seclusion and time alone after a hard
day's work. As she slips in amongst the trees, she pauses to take a deep
breath, enjoying the fresh smell of foliage in Spring, her eyes blinking closed
for a moment, before she opens them again and continues on her way.
Weaving
her way through the grove, she pauses now and then to take a look around and
smell the flowers, so to speak. Expecting to be alone, she's stopped short when
she stumbles upon the young man, freezing in surprise for a moment, before
offering a low, "Sorry." She glances back over her shoulder, looking
reluctantly ready to turn tail and head back out into the more populous areas,
since the man was here first.
For
the time prior to the girl's words, the hooded man was leaning heavily against
a tree, shoulders heaving very gently but with the speed of an exerted man, his
face hidden in shadows. At the words though, there's a brief twitch, or
something akin to it. For in an instant the man is a foot away from the tree,
his head up. One arm lays across his ribs still, but the other half into his
coat with the movie-like gesture of someone going for a gun. For the most part,
his face has remained in shadows, and his eyes behind the shades, so perhaps
the only real sign of his inhumanity would be a certain sharpness to the
shadowed angles, but that could be played off easily enough for some other
heritage. Well, until he speaks that is, for that voice is a lilting gruff
accent of traditionally raised Welsh, and there aren't that many other
heritages that would have been raised on the language enough to have picked up
that thick a feel of it to their words. "Why ye be sorry, geneth? 't's a
bloody public park still, aye?" But hey at least after a brief glance, the
strangely twitchy guy started to ease off, his hand pulling away from his coat,
the tension bleeding out of him to leave him slightly slumped again.
Rahne
blushes faintly, as she is wont to do, and stumbles back a half-step, although
she still doesn't turn and go. "Aye, s'just you were ... I, er, figured
ain out 'ere ... I mean, I - wasnae expecting company," she finally
manages to get out, after a few attempts, her own accent one of rural Scotland.
"D-dinnae figure you were, either, eih?" She nervously fidgets, idly
picking at some peeling bark on the tree right beside her, as she attempts to
study the man without really coming off as doing as much or ever meeting his
gaze. Ducking her head slightly, the blush does at least fade a bit, although
between the cooling evening and her own shyness, her cheeks are still far from
their usual paleness. Again, she casts a look back over her shoulder, still
seeming ready to take flight, although for the moment she doesn't, whether
because she's curious or just plain wanting not to be rude, even she's not
entirely sure.
Cade
gives a faint snort as he watches the girl fidget nearly as much as he does
normally, but for all that he let go of the gun, he's still a touch wary around
people right now. Maybe it's the semi-familiar accent, or maybe it's just that
same fidgeting that amused him. In either case, the speed cat moves back to
leaning on his tree, even that faint motion smooth to the point of unreality,
albeit tender for that pained rib he still cradles a bit. The words that come
out have the accent thickening just a little and the words themselves speeding
up to a more natural rhythm, probably just because he has a feeling she could
pick up on them, being from a decent part of the world and with at least a
half-decent accent herself (unlike all these bloody Americans of course).
"Aye. I wasn' lookin' t' company any more than ye, aye? But y' can stop
y'r bloody spooked doe impression, geneth. Heh, I'm no' goin' t'scare ye off
jus' yet. Y'r one o' the first I've met 'ere from the Isle, aye? Scottish,
righ'?"
Rahne
accidentally tears off a small strip of the bark, patting the tree
apologetically before quickly pulling her hands away as to not do it anymore
damage. The bit of bark isn't as fortunate though, as she now works idly on
slowly shredding it, dropping small bits to the ground by her feet. She nods at
his words, taking a deep breath to calm herself down, but not seeming to be too
successful. One can almost see her trying not to look timid, and somehow only
winding up looking more so for her efforts. "Aye, Scotland, aye," she
agrees slowly, nodding again. "Yeh'd be ... Wales, aye? Ach aye, no' a lo'
o' folks from our parts around 'ere." She shrugs a bit, finally finishing
off the bit of bark and dropping the last hunk to the ground as well. Now left
to her own devices, she just starts twiddling her fingers as she stands there,
feeling and looking somewhat awkward. Still - she knows she can do this whole
conversation thing, if she just gives it some honest effort. "Yeh ... been
'ere long? 'merica, I mean. New York, even."
Cade
can't help bug give another soft chuckle/snort to the unprovoked mutilation of
the bark piece, but after the girl's words, he just gives a small shake of his
head and moves from his tree a bit in order to slide down too gracefully to the
ground, perhaps to try and get her to sit as well and save the trees any
further pain. Course, just think of what she'll do to the grass blades nearby
if given nothing else to shred! Oh well, in either case, it seems the grumpy
bastard speedcat is too tired, not to mention too pained, to be his usual
'charming' self for the time being. So instead the Scotsgirl gets the
semi-pleasant, if gruff, side and the continued brownie points of being not just
an American who was raised with the accent or some such. "Only a few days
I think. Fresh off o' the boat an' all that, aye?" After which, he's
settling his strange legs into a cross-legged position which may or may not
have inadvertantly flashed the animal-like shape of them without his noticing.
"Definitely a bit o' change from London an' Cymru." Which she may or
may not recognize as the thing a lot of Welsh actually call Wales. "'ow
'bout you, geneth? Ye definitely seem jumpy enough for this city, bu' 'aven't
lost y'r accent a' least, aye?"
After
a moment's deliberation, Rahne elects to join him in sitting, scooting forward
a bit, crossing her legs at the ankle, and then sinking automatically into an
Indian-style sitting posture with minimal slouching. At least now, there's a
loose thread within reach on the cuff of her pants, from where they drag on the
ground. That seems to keep her hands plenty distracted, and saves the grass
from herbicide, no doubt. She nods a bit as he speaks, wrapping the bit of
thread around one finger before letting it go, then starting again. If she
doesn't get the Cymru reference, she doesn't ask about it, at least able to
infer that it's probably Wales or some spot therein. "Ach, been 'ere ...
no' too long. No' sure when exactly I got 'ere, but no' too long ago,
aye." She still seems slightly awkward, although at least now she's
talking easily enough, albeit her voice is always kept lower than is really
necessary. "Still no' entirely used to the place, eih? Dunnae think I ever
will be. 'Tis strange 'ere," she confides with another gentle blush.
"Y'r
tellin' me, genneth." Cade says to that in a faintly lowered voice, though
the tone was emphatic. And oddly, with the words, he cast his eyes towards the
sky above, maybe in some odd prayer, maybe looking for birds, who knows.
Regardless, soon after, he was looking back down, the light briefly catching on
his face more, perhaps showing the strange features and the spots outlining it,
before he was looking back down, or perhaps her attention was still caught on
the thread. Whichever it was, the man's soft, slightly gravelly voice comes
again soon after in a more regular volume, tones curious now, and a touch
amused at something. "What is it I call ye anyways? Jus' stickin' t' 'girl'
seems a bit rude as I'm no' tryin' t' scare ye off yet, aye?" Which may
imply normally he would have scared others off by now, though it doesn't say
whether it was purposeful or just by virtue of charm and good looks.
Rahne
does manage to catch a brief glimpse of something unusual, looking up from her
busywork at just the last moment. Her expression falters, but she quickly makes
an attempt to just shrug it off, telling herself it's nothing. "Ach,
Rahne. S'my name, I mean," she offers with another light blush. A first
name only, for now at least; she'd been in the city long enough to figure out
that much. Not that a last name would make her any easier to find, but it just
seemed to make sense to keep it private. "Yoors?" she inquires lightly,
looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow, before quickly lowering her gaze to
her bit of thread again. "If yeh're wantin' to give it, that is..."
She now manages to break the thread off, grimacing lightly before clasping her
hands together and holding them resolvedly in her lap.
Cade
cants his head slightly as he watches the thread break, but to her question, a
quiet, strangely bemused reply comes. "Call me Cade. 't's as good as any
name for me, aye?" After which a slight chuckle comes as if at some
private choke, and then he's tilting his vision up a bit, still managing to
keep his face mostly shrouded as if through long practice, just as through that
same practice he's managed to hold down his own hyperactivity somehow and has
kept his oddly thick and muscular hands lightly crossed in his lap, the tips
curved in to hide the claws as he's managed once again to forget the gloves he
sometimes uses to cover them. "In any case, 't's nice to come across
another from near t' home an' such, Rahne. Forgive m' curiosity, an' if ye don'
wish to talk on it, I'll mind it, but what is it tha' brought ye t' this side
o' the ocean?"
Rahne
smiles softly, although she clearly doesn't get what's amusing about his name.
"Ach aye," she offers in somewhat non-committal agreement with what
he's said. She looks down at her own hands a moment, as if willing them to be
still, before lifting her eyes once more, but still not quite looking directly
at him. Instead, she picks a neutral spot on the ground between them and rests
her gaze there. At his inquiry, she offers a slight shrug, seeming to go a bit
more awkward and red. "Jus'... to get away, aye?" she offers,
sounding more as if she's asking him than telling him. It's not a lie; just not
quite the whole truth, but that doesn't make her telling of it any smoother, it
would seem, although it might rest easier on her conscience.
"Wha'
would someone like you 'ave t' run away from, m'dear?" Cade asks with a
slight furrowing of brows and gravelly tone registering both with a little
surprise and a strange (especially for him) hint of something almost
approximating sympathy. Of course, she didn't really say she ran away, she just
said to get away. Is this some kind of case of him subconsciously projecting
his own reasons for leaving perhaps?
But
Rahne's not really in the sort of mindset to pick up such a slip. Instead, she
just shrugs a bit, seeming to withdraw just slightly and grow much more
fascinated with that spot of earth again. "Ach, jus' some things be'er
left behind, aye," she replies in a soft tone, shaking her head.
"S'no' worth goin' into." And there's also the part where it's hard
to explain without revealing she's a bit of a freak, but she wisely leaves that
part unsaid. "I should be goin', eih? Home before dark in the city and all
tha'." She doesn't immediately move to get up, though, instead taking a
moment to smooth the spot on her cuff where she pulled that loose thread. The
pants'll need mending when she gets home.
To
which the strange man gives another of his unprovoked chuckles, and mutters out
a few words. A phrase only slightly mispronounced by his Welsh accent, spoken
by Cade in traditional Gaelic, quite similar to the Scotish-Gaelic and
Irish-Gaelic still spoken today. "And for all under the sun, trials
abound." Or something roughly like that. Whatever her reaction to it, the
speedcat is going on again in his accented English, words quiet and mirthful,
as well as a bit self-deprecating. "Aye. As should I, m'dear. I'm in no
bloody state t' tussle with idiots carrying guns an' knives they don' know 'ow
t' use." At which point he's rising up off the ground with that inhuman
fluidity, one hand to his ribs and the slightest of groan/growls escaping the
back of his throat with the motion after he'd allowed his body to stiffen again
a bit.
Rahne
seems to recognize, if not the whole thing, at least enough to pick of the
meaning of the phrase Cade speaks, and she smiles strangely at it, nodding in
agreement. "Aye..." she replies, pausing just slightly at his strange
wording regarding the weaponry. She pulls herself to her feet, rolling her
shoulders back slightly to stretch her back as she stands. "T'was nice
meeting yeh, Cade," she offers with a sincere, if shy, smile. "'ope
to maybe see you again sometime." And with that, she blushes again,
although not quite so badly as she did originally. She tugs her cloak on straight,
brushing off any bits that cling to the wool.
Now
on his feet fully and not really thinking about much more than the pain in his
side and leg, Cade didn't of course remember to keep his hands a little better
hidden for the claws on them, nor did he remember to stay facing away from the
sun as he turned back to the girl's reference to seeing him again (hey, it
isn't all that often anyone wants him within a hundred yards of them again
after the first meeting, he really has lost his touch today or something).
Course, in turning with rather genuine, if slightly surprised smile, the
speedcat's features are seen momentarily in full feline glory for the harshness
of angles, the broad flat nose, the muzzle-like quality to his jaw and mouth,
the long canines and sharpened teeth, and even briefly the flash of
slit-pupiled golden eyes gleaming over the rim of the shades as he even forgot
himself so much as that. Ahh, but when it hits through the pain, that
expression turns a touch shocked and he's looking down and away again.
"Aye Rahne, I'll 'opefully be around a good bit for a long time t' come.
'm sure some'ow we'll cross Paths again in the comin' days, aye?" At which
point, without waiting for her to freak out about his appearance (or at least
he would have expected the girl to freak out), he he starts off towards the
main area of the park with a final "Be seein' ye, kid." And damned if
he doesn't limp faster and smoother than some people run. Cause even burdened
by his poorly healing injuries he's just built for speed. How she'll react to
any of this though is something the speedcat doesn't seem to want to be around
to see or hear.
Rahne
lets out a soft gasp as she does, finally, catch full glimpse of his features.
And while that gasp could quite possibly be mistaken for shock or even horror,
it's just pure surprise at the unexpected on Rahne's behalf. Before she can
even think to comment, though, Cade's taken off. Her face dropping, she calls
softly after him with an ineffectual, "Wait!" But she doesn't even
wait to see if the attempt was successful. Instead, with a sigh, she turns and
mutters something softly at the tree from which she picked the bark earlier,
then slowly starts off towards home.