Freedom to Go


daphne_icon.gif hortense_icon.gif

Scene Title Freedom to Go
Synopsis Daphne meets what might be her kindred spirit in another time and another city in Hortense.
Date January 30, 2011

North Cove Marina

It's not below freezing today, thank god. Close to it, but not. Though the wind makes it feel like that. Hortense is out and about today, as she is most weekend when she's not spending it with family or friends, stocking up her boat with groceries and a little clothes shopping. Most people are normal, live in an apartment. But with the way things are these days, she's doubly glad that she lives on board the 47 footer.

"Can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feeeeeeel! My hearts in overdrive and you're behind the steering wheeeeeeeeel" Someone female is singing in the Marina to a little Hair music. Grocery bags sit on the dock, occasionally the handles flap as a breeze comes by. Hortense has been back and forth from the parking with her small fortune in goods, a large bag of whiska's seafood temptations glaring blue in the sun. She's coming with her last batch of grocery bags, a half gallon of milk and about four containers of Ben and Jerry's in mulitple flavors seen through the opaque covering of plastic bag.

"Touching youuuuuu, touching meeeeeeee, touching you, god you're touching me! I believe in a thing called, just listen to the rhythm of my heart! There's a chance we could make it now We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down I believe in a thing called love Oooooooooooh!" She two steps, pauses, does a little mock air guitar - as well as one can do when bearing two bags of groceries. There's an earbud in, cord snaking down to somewhere inside her winter jacket.

"I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day You got me in a spin but everythin' is A.OK!" It's replete with fake British accent as well. She goes up on her toes, warbling nicely along to the song, sharing it with the world and anyone who happens to be near. Not many winterer's at the marina, so she doesn't feel bad singing out loud.

The good mood is not contagious. Daphne Millbrook is not in a good mood — mostly because she's on a pair of crutches and trying to maneuver her way along the docks. One might think, given her time on crutches last winter, that she'd be coordinated enough on them to use her super speed on them, but it turns out that isn't the case. She's moving a little faster than she might otherwise, but that just means she's not lumbering along at the speed of a tortoise.

Her delivery made to a man on the yacht five down, she's now on her way out, past Hortense's boat. A gust of wintry wind suddenly blows off Daphne's hat, and she makes a grab for it, letting go of one crutch to do so.

The red beret is caught by a hand moving so fast it's a blur — the crutch, however, tumbles into the water, just an inch out of Daphne's grip when she tries to grab that, too, realizing her mistake.

"God damn it." No, the good mood is not contagious.

But Hortenses innate bad luck might be, as Daphne's hat survives, but the crutch is lost to the drink. "Hold on! I got something!"Grocery bags are deposited with the minimal amount of care that the milk and ice cream require, the brunette wincing sympathetically at the ordeal that the platinum blonde is having to go through.

It's a small and unnecessary leap into her boat, easily maneuvering along the topside of the boat till she finds what she's looking for. A long pole with a large simple hook on the end, generally used for situations like so. Another hop off the boat and she's made her way back to Daphne and proceeds to fish the crutch out of the water.

"shitty luck, and wind. Let me tell you. Great wind if you were sailing, but not for hats" Making small talk while helping out the crippled woman. "If you can make it to my boat" A gesture to the 'Good Mooring' right there. "I can get this dried off for you." There we go, one yank and it's up, out of the water, dripping wet.

The petite blonde tucks the red beret into the pocket of her black peacoat, watching the whirlwind of activity that isn't her for once with a bit of amusement. "Hey, thanks," she says with a smile as her crutch is retrieved. She's tempted to just grab and go, but the ice-cold water makes her think twice on her usual modus operandi.

She chews her lower lip for a moment before nodding, swapping the crutch she still has from one side to the other to better support the disabled side of her body, and she makes her way to Hortense's boat.

"Promise I'm not some serial killing boat murderer. Swear on a stack of crutches. Usually I'm clutzy, it's me who's fishing stuff out of the water. Do you know how many times I've done that?" Hortense shakes her head. "My names Hortense" She hops up onto the boat, eschewing the small set of steps that hang over the side and onto the dock that make getting up and off much easier. She digs out her keys so that she can unlock the door further in. "You can stay out here if you don't want to navigate the steps, they're pretty steep." She leans back, offering a hand out to speedster. "So what landed you a lame duck?"

The speedster chuckles at the tall brunette's confessions. "I'm usually not a klutz," she says with a shake of her pale dreadlocks, reaching up to tuck a strand behind an ear, now that the hat's not keeping the too long-locks out of her dark eyes. "Took a spill while running on Friday night, screwed up my knee." It's the truth — just not all of it.

Daphne takes the hand, not removing her gloves to do so. The fact she's too visible, too recognizable and too injured to speed away if someone connects her with the theft of the package she just delivered to the man five boats down is all too obvious to the impish thief. She smiles, and offers, "Felicia."

It's the first name to come to her — mostly because she passed a boat farther down in the marina called "Felicia's Folly."

Daphne can speed away on the little Zodiac that's hanging of the back end of Hortense's boat. "Shit luck there Felicia. Hope it clears up soon. It's bad enough walking in this weather, but to be hobbling through on crutches? Give me a second" With those last words, she's ducking, disappearing into the belly of the boat, door mostly closing behind her, tiny thing that it is. Half the size of a normal door if that. But the window in it shows her moving further into the belly, disappearing, then eventually popping back out with a towel so she can take care of the crutch. "You don't live out here, I think I know just about every liveaboard here. Visiting a friend?"

Daphne's brown eyes watch Hortense's moves carefully, though she also keeps an eye out for any one else coming their way; her fingers on the grip of the one crutch thrumming in a blur of motion. When Hortense reappears, she nods. "Right, just visiting a friend. They weren't there, though. One of those, 'come by anytime!' and then you do, and they're not there… Serves me right for not calling ahead, right?"

She nods to the boat. "You like living on a boat? I think I'd get claustrophobic or something." Then again, the only times she's been on boats come with some bad memories.

"Unless you got a radio or they got a cellphone, yeah. Kinda hard to pin down if we're here. Perils of not living in a building" Hortense is thorough in her drying off of the crutch, nose and cheeks pink in the cool air. "Lived here since I got divorced. I like it. It's surprisingly roomy actually. Two bedrooms, I got a real shower and a small kitchen. Even a nice TV. Probably about as big as some of the small apartments in New York. Hell, the slip fee's are cheaper too. That and I like the potential to say 'today, I feel like sailing to Florida"

The crutch when finished is handed over to the speedster, dry as a bone. "Besides, plenty of windows and doors. now, if you're over 6 feet, you'll need to crouch" this coming from a woman who tops 5'10. "I have to stoop only when in my bedroom"

"Only reason I'd go to Florida is for the Cuban food. I could go for some good pan con lechón or a medianoche," Daphne says with a grin. The freedom to go is certainly one she can appreciate and empathize with, and part of her wonders if Hortense might be just a bit of a kindred spirit.

Those are hard to find in times like these.

"I don't think I'd have to stoop at all, but I'm not really a fan of boats." Her freckled nose wrinkles. "Definitely a fan of the ocean though." Running across it, anyway — not something she's going to do in the next couple of days, unfortunately.

"If you ever feel a desire to get out on the ocean, drop by. If i'm not doing anything and the water patrols aren't going all beserk on anyone who leaves dock, I can run out and park for a bit. That's provided that I'm not like your friends and out.. or if your friend is one of those bigger boats" You know, the one that puts her older boat to shame.

The word 'patrols' earns another nose wrinkle from Daphne as she moves the other crutch under her armpit, fingers curling around the grip. "Thanks," she says with a smile that's polite, but not quite eager. "That's nice of you to offer. Yeah, it's… over there." She lifts one hand to vaguely wave in the other direction, to the long line of boats.

Before Hortense can start asking who, Daphne lifts her crutch slightly. "Thanks again for the help."

'Anytime Felicity. Try to not go dropping your crutch in the water" Hortense winks, making way to hop off the boat again, turn to help Daphne off if she needs it, knowing a person trying to make a graceful exit when they make it. "Enjoy the weather, as much as you can enjoy it"

It's not a fast exit that Daphne makes. And as she makes it, she can't help but wonder what life would be like if she didn't have to lie, if she didn't have to hide who and what she is. In another time and another place, Daphne might have liked to be friends with someone like Hortense.

But today, she's just a good samaritan who has the bad luck of living near one of Daphne's clients.

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