Participants:
| Scene Title | From Horse To Pegasus |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Huruma pins down Ryans after a few weeks of his being off of her map. |
| Date | January 20, 2011 |
Prospect Park is a 585-acre public park sitting square in the heart of Brooklyn. While the borough around this verdant region of lush foliage, tall trees and rolling hills is prospering, Prospect Park has become something of a ghetto within the city's bowels. Brooklyn has grown steadily following the destruction of Midtown, but not everyone in New York City can afford to live in Brooklyn, and those that cant have resorted to vagrancy across the city. Some brave the southern edge of Central Park on Manhattan, but the lion's share of mainland New York's homeless are here in Prospect Park.
Where once was a blossoming park pulling itself up from a nadir of abandonment and disuse in the seventies, Prospect Park has sunken back down into a state of disrepair and squalor. Tracts of forested land are laden with blue tarp tents, fire pits and makeshift shanty towns. The park is no longer officially maintained by the state of New York due to budget constraints, so the park's once pristine boat house and other facilities have been made into a makeshift homeless community, such as they are.
The Prospect Park Zoo, which once featured over seven hundred animals, was closed shortly after the bomb and the facility rests in decay in the park behind rusting iron gates and sturdy fence.
The round dark stone goes sailing across the mostly frozen river. When it lands it bounces on ice a few times before finding a thin spot. With a soft crack of the icy surface it sinks under.
The scruffy man that tossed it looks like he belongs in these woods with the homeless that occupy it. In a stained and slightly worn brown duster. A dark knit beanie is tugged low to protect his ears from the cold, making lengths of dark hair stick out at odd angles. The scruffiness of his jaw also lends to the illusion that he may live in one of the many blue tarp shanty towns.
He may seem lost in thought, but the old man is very aware of his surroundings. She'll know it when she approaches. He may seem relaxed and uncaring, but there is a wariness that is very sharp and clear. "I wondered when you would get here." The tone is flat, but a touch of friendliness is there. "You have news?" He asks after a moment, sending another rock over the iced river.
It is cold, and wet, and cold- and of course, wet. The snow has been melting and re-freezing for a few nights, leaving behind a haze of grayness, pools of water in the ground and slickness on cracked asphalt. The riverside here is one of the few park tributaries that winds around the old Prospect Park grounds, less of a real river than the Hudson, but enough of one to provide resources for the shanty towns clustered in the park land.
Huruma is bundled more against the uncomfortable damp than the cold temperatures, wearing a jacket over the layer of a hooded sweatshirt and a flannel shirt below that; the hood is pulled up over a boxy cap on her head, sunk low against the brim that she takes great care when peeking out from under. The more she looks poor, and the more she looks androgynous, the less people may decide to bother her. When someone isn't sure of who you are, it helps to simply keep them away. Huruma hates to play the race card on top of that, but, well.
"You make m'sound like I have a habit of being late." The woman's neck cants as she sidles up along the path, only stopping when she is in that field of nearness begetting conversation. Her eyes cast out after the second rock, but draw back again. "Mixed news, yes. I wouldn'ave tracked you down, just t'totally disappoint you…" There is a faint laugh, and a slip of pale teeth when she smiles.
A small smile of amusement tips at the corners of his mouth, as if she walked into a trap with that comment. He knows she wouldn't make a habit of being late. "Yes, well… News doesn't always have to be a reason between friends." The lines around his mouth deepen for a moment longer, before he turns to the river. "Been dull and lonely babysitting Hana. Cold too." Is that his way of saying he probably missed the dark woman? Her and the island most likely. There is still a stone in his hand, flat with rounded edges. Perfect for skipping if there was a thawed river to skip it across.
"Delia?" There is a hopefulness to his tone and emotions, yet bracing himself for negative news. Face smoothing into that neutral look, his typical attempt to hide emotions that Huruma can find out with a simple look.
Her hands are wearing light woolen gloves, the type with the fingertips that fold back. Only the fingers of her right hand are flipped, enough to provide her some sort of dexterity in rifling something out of her pocket. A folded index card, little more.
"I'aven't been able t'get in t'see her, m'self, but-" Huruma pauses just a second to gauge that bracing. She can sense it, of course, the various amounts of trepidation and resignation already floating around. "-I know people have. From what I hear, she is awake, an'well enough f'someone what was in a coma. Staying with that …Russo character." She doesn't know the relationship between him and Delia, nor him and Benjamin. Perhaps it is just as well that she doesn't. The card is gestured out at him. It only has an address on it, in her usual elaborate cursive. Even if Ryans does have Brad's address, the offer of the card is a symbol of Huruma's degree of dedication to the matter. "He doesn'know about me, I was debating breaking in."
"When are you supposed t'be done sitting her?" She branches back to tack a question in, if just so that there is a buffer zone appropriate. Huruma actually sounds kind of- bummed out- if such an adjective could fit her.
"Talked to Bennet recently." Ryans states, taking the card in his own fingers. "I'm done for now, but we're keeping an eye on her either way. For now she seems like she isn't going to do anything rash." There is an overwhelming sense of relief there at Huruma's news. A bit of uncertainty that she's at Russo's place, maybe even a touch of fear. Though that fear isn't for what Huruma might think. He looks at the card with a slight frown. "Damn fool." He mutters softly, words gruff and growled. But then he sighs, the sound heavy in his nose, sending up a plume of white.
"I'll have to contact him." Ryans tucks the card away. "He's putting himself and his sister in danger keeping her like that." Maybe he doesn't realize she hasn't heard the news or maybe his thoughts are on his daughter. Worry eating at his stomach. "I need to get her out of there."
Huruma is nearly too busy studying Benjamin to process what he says, but only just. If she had been a moment longer doing it, she may have thought she misheard him. There is a bit of a blink out from under the brim poking out from under her navy blue hood, and the shape of her lips wrinkle with her face, once she starts a squint. "His sister?"
"His sister?" If Ben didn't hear her the first time, she nearly hisses it in disbelief the second time. Huruma wasn't expecting that. One of her eyebrows threatens to hike up onto her forehead, at this rate. "How many children d'you have? Was th'punk girl even yours?" Okay, no, maybe she doesn't actually want to know, does she? Huruma lifts one hand to her face, rubbing chill fingertips over her brow. Hrg.
"Anyway… He is hiding her, he has seemed t'be careful. An'if she is no'well enough, she may be safer there, wouldn'she?" A rabbit is safer in any den than out in the open.
"Only the three." Benjamin states blandly, finally glancing at her. "And Keira is my niece," he explains and goes no further. "There have only been two woman I've been serious about in my life. Russo's mother is one." The one he was engaged too before he met Mary.
"Russo may be careful, but he is still a celebrity, one that is gaining popularity. Especially after that proposal he did around Christmas time." His voice rumbles deep in his chest as he talks, eyes on the woods beyond the river. Line lines of smoke drifting up from the tarp draped hovels. "That means his life is going to quickly become less private. He doesn't need to be drug down the rabbit hole the rest of us are.
"If he's caught with her, he'll be arrested for aiding an abetting. Not to mention sheltering a fugitive." His blue eyes snap back to her, brow lifting a little on his head. "Where he is would be best for all of us." Obviously, Ryans has thought a lot about this.
"I remember you mentioning her, now." Huruma muses quietly just after he explains, but before he continues. In time to hush up and listen to the rest of it, with intent eyes and a slightly pursed mouth. In the end, either of them could be right. She thinks about the effect of poking one's nose out, and he is thinking of the effect of people poking noses in. She nods, the motion wavering between curt and simply being in agreement.
"So he would. Hopefully nobody finds his rhetoric t'be anything but charming." Enough mind to note it, not enough to back it up with something. Huruma shifts her weight, hovering half a step closer when her vision catches a raggedy man hobbling out from one of the shacks in the distance. Her interest abates when he rounds the corner of another tent and reaches for his zipper.
"I think you two should sort it out soon, then." Huruma yawns softly, lifting the heel of her hand to mask it. Maybe less tired and more cold- it makes her energy slow like most everyone else. "I will still try t'get in t'see her, if I can. If you wanted me t'get you in, though, that might b'possible too. His building is not th'Pentagon, goodness knows." Then of course, he could try to go there himself, but where would she be if she didn't offer first?
"No." Ryans says after a moment, tracking the man as well. When the figure goes about coloring the snow, he gives Huruma his attention again. "I'll contact him. I don't think he'll deny me seeing my daughter." He's confident of that.
Would Russo even dare too? The relationship is too new, to know. "How have things been on the island?" He finally asks, finally turning his back on the river to pick he way back to the path. "Raith holding up?" Not that he doubts that of the other Co-head.
Huruma lifts her hand to her neck now, looking a bit off-balance, her weight on one foot. "I'ave not been back for a couple of weeks." Now the sheepishness is there. "I came off when I heard about Delia, tailed Brad at first, probably would have seen her too, but…" Her jaw clenches visibly, and the slight ducking of her head darkens her shadows, her frown flickering long and deep because of it. "There was th'attack in Madagascar. I had t'reach them, it took a few days of m'time." More than she expected, as then she felt the need to also leave a couple of other messages here and there.
"I passed by th'boaters twice so far, they'ave said things are well, considering, though I heard there was some kind of meeting soon. This weekend, I think." Huruma clears her throat, trying to pry her thoughts away from what has been keeping her busy.
Brows tip down in a sort of thoughtfulness as he steps up a small incline, pausing to turn and look back at her. "Your family alright?" A touch of concern to her family, flutters through the rest of his emotions. A hand is held out to her to help her up, but then he stops.
What the hell is he doing?
There is confusion at his own actions, as he realizes Huruma is very well able to take that step herself. Call it his gentlemen's training, momma taught him well. After a tick of a moment, he still offers it… it is the polite thing to do. But there is a neutral cast to his features again.
"I'm sure the word of the meeting would get to me soon, but this way I can plan." Once she's set, Ryans will quickly retrieve his hand on continue on boots crunching through dead leaves. Nothing to see here.
It is a little like offering an extra set of wings to a horse. It doesn't need them, but who doesn't like a pegasus? Huruma has about .5 seconds to decide whether to take it or not, expression sticking from its frowning thought; perhaps, against her better judgment, she does put her hand on his. It isn't the fact she can step up on her own, it is the principle of something else. She's not quite sure what that is. Maybe his need to be polite.
It lasts just a couple of seconds, in all, but that is what matters the most. Huruma isn't surprised that he shies away afterwards, crunching about on the litter. She pushes her hands into her pockets, wandering close behind.
"Dajan was in it. He probably would'ave been fine, with time, but his friend-" Hm. "Our friend- Tau, put himself in hospital b'cause he healed Dajan. He has a metabolic type of healing. So now I jus'worry about another man, instead of th'first. He feels terrible about Tau."
There is a small nod of his head as he listens, hands tucked into pockets to keep him from doing something thoughtless again. He keeps himself reserved around people for a reason. "I wish him a speedy recovery then," Ryans offers out of politeness then anything. He doesn't know this 'Tau', but he means something to Huruma.
"I guess I can forgive you for leaving the island." A smile flashed her way, even if a faint one, to show he's joking. "It's a worthy reason." Ryans steps out onto the paved jogging path, aimed at heading out of the park maybe. He does have calls to make.
"I am glad to hear your son is safe." He adds after a moment. "He's part of a good cause. Good people don't deserve the bad things that happen to them." Of course, Ryans doesn't see himself as one of the good guys really.
Thoughtless in this case is the same thing as thoughtful. Unecessarily so, but still. Huruma follows him out onto the jogging path, taking a longer glance down behind them, for no other reason than to keep her eyes busy. She lets out a short cuff of a laugh. Yes, she supposes he can forgive that.
"Most people don'deserve it, really." Huruma makes a point to point out his implications; she thinks he is good, and he knows he is, deep in there somewhere under all the cobwebs that have been growing. "He is safe for now. But he doesn'know if his country will stay that way. That attack killed an important man, an'now a States sympathizer has taken his place. I wouldn'be surprised if th'army killed him so it could happen." Huruma can't suspend belief with what has been going on. "Madagascar will be free someday. Jus'not today."
Grimacing, Ryans shakes his head slowly. "Registration to follow soon I suspect," he grumbles thoughtfully, brows ticking down into a frown. "I honestly hope they don't do that, but… it is our government." Look at their own country.
He walks in silence for a long moment, lost in thoughts. Finally Benjamin looks to her and lifts a questioning brow. "Let me buy you coffee. Or something to eat. Least I can do for the news? Good and the bad."
"Dajan took th'country from one dictator already." Who is ready for a number two? Huruma is. She returns his next inquiry with a slight smile, awkwardly executed. "I haven't eaten as much as I probably should'ave. You'd think I'd stuff m'face while I was away from th'island. I'm just glad t'not be eating potatoes every night of the week, if just for a couple of them."
That sounds like a plan; at least she's not fixing on him like she's starving? Once upon a time, perhaps.
"He's your son… I don't doubt he couldn't do it again," Ryans comments, the truth of his words ringing in his emotions.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Nothing of the long pork variety." There was a time he wouldn't have been able to joke about her habits so openly, though there still unease as he mentions it. Like a twisting in his gut. "Tho' I've heard there is still some debate as to what is really in those hotdogs those street vendors peddle."
He gives a jerk of his head, "Come on. I'll buy you a few hot dogs. I'm fairly hungry myself." It's an excuse to spend some time with a friend, even if it is an odd sort of friendship.
Huruma is rolling her eyes, in the most exaggerated motion that she can muster. How offensive, really. "I'll have you know I haven't touched th'stuff in-" The fact she has to pause to count signals at least some sort of major change here. And that she maybe can't remember that far back. It puts a bit of an odd look on her face. "-months. And months." She has forced herself to find other venues of ritual, but she will probably never drop the willingness.
Odd sort of friendship? Well, joking about human-dogs is odd. "A few? I could eat th'whole dog…" Maybe Huruma is not without humor. She has her moments.
A short huff of laughter, tells Huruma that he does see the humor in it. Benjamin gives her a bit of a smile and shakes his head.
"I hear dog is tasty."