Of Isis, in absentia


celeste_icon.gif raeven_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Also featuring…


Scene Title Of Isis, in absentia
Synopsis A novellist, a kid, and two bikers meet at a bench. They largely discuss someone none of them really know.
Date September 15 2010

Central Park, and then Alley Cat Couriers (Bronx Office)

Central Park has been, and remains, a key attraction in New York City, both for tourists and local residents. Though slightly smaller, approximately 100 acres at its southern end scarred by and still recovering from the explosion, the vast northern regions of the park remain intact.

An array of paths and tracks wind their way through stands of trees and swathes of grass, frequented by joggers, bikers, dog-walkers, and horsemen alike. Flowerbeds, tended gardens, and sheltered conservatories provide a wide array of colorful plants; the sheer size of the park, along with a designated wildlife sanctuary add a wide variety of fauna to the park's visitor list. Several ponds and lakes, as well as the massive Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, break up the expanses of green and growing things. There are roads, for those who prefer to drive through; numerous playgrounds for children dot the landscape.

Many are the people who come to the Park - painters, birdwatchers, musicians, and rock climbers. Others come for the shows; the New York Shakespeare Festival at the Delacorte Theater, the annual outdoor concert of the New York Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, the summer performances of the Metropolitan Opera, and many other smaller performing groups besides. They come to ice-skate on the rink, to ride on the Central Park Carousel, to view the many, many statues scattered about the park.

Some of the southern end of the park remains buried beneath rubble. Some of it still looks worn and torn, struggling to come back from the edge of destruction despite everything the crews of landscapers can do. The Wollman Rink has not been rebuilt; the Central Park Wildlife Center remains very much a work in progress, but is not wholly a loss. Someday, this portion of Central Park just might be restored fully to its prior state.

A temperature more than forty degrees below the Summer's peak might be heralded by some of the locals as a woeful sign of the end of good weather, but to at least some of the city's residents it is very much to be welcomed.

One such individual is just wheeling her bike away from Central Park Zoo - guiding it in one hand, while the other unfastens the straps holding her cycle helmet in place. Pale skin certainly hints at a Northerly origin, but that is confirmed by her apparent lack of concern about sweating in the falling temperatures - she sports lycra cycling shorts and a sleeveless top rather than anything warmer.

Locating a vacant bench, she trundles her vehicle - an expensive, professional-grade machine that looks to have seen a lot of use - over to rest against one end of it, hanging her helmet from the seat before unfastening and then swinging the camel-back pack from her shoulders. Revealed by its removal is the largely backless nature of her top… and the elaborate, impossibly brightly-coloured dragon tattoo that covers much of her back. Picked out in fabulous detail, a pair of Western dragons - one gleamingly white and silver, the other scarlet and black - stand out vividly against her pale complection, the reptilian forms rippling as toned muscles shift across the cyclist's back.

Raeven, too, is wheeling about a bike through the many weaving trails through the world famous park. Although her bike would typically be found on roads rather than paths. It's a Harley Davidson motorcycle sporting the common color of black and complimented by stainless steel parts. Surely a collectors item, which would seem strange for one of such a young age to have. But there is a sense of comfort suggesting that it has been with her for quite a while. While her eyes are veiled by a pair of sunglasses, it doesn't stop this little woman from watching everyone that walks on by. Pushing such a heavy thing slows her down enough for others to pass on by without any issues. A good thing, too. It gives her plenty of time to examine someone as they go, but for what reason remains unknown. Ygraine happens to be one of these people. A fellow biker, in a way, to whom she offers a bit of a nod in polite greeting. Seeing the tattoos on the woman's skin brings out a appreciative smile. "Nice artwork" she says once she is close enough for her voice to be heard. "Do they symbolize something for you?" Eh, it's a casual conversation. Not like she has been all that good at starting up conversations anyways.

Raeven, too, is wheeling about a bike through the many weaving trails through the world famous park. Although her bike would typically be found on roads rather than paths. It's a Harley Davidson motorcycle sporting the common color of black and complimented by stainless steel parts. Surely a collectors item, which would seem strange for one of such a young age to have. But there is a sense of comfort suggesting that it has been with her for quite a while.

While her eyes are veiled by a pair of sunglasses, it doesn't stop this little woman from watching everyone that walks on by. Pushing such a heavy thing slows her down enough for others to pass on by without any issues. A good thing, too. It gives her plenty of time to examine someone as they go, but for what reason remains unknown. Ygraine happens to be one of these people. A fellow biker, in a way, to whom she offers a bit of a nod in polite greeting. Seeing the tattoos on the woman's skin brings out a appreciative smile.

"Nice artwork" she says once she is close enough for her voice to be heard. "Do they symbolize something for you?" Eh, it's a casual conversation. Not like she has been all that good at starting up conversations anyways.

"Yay!!" The sweetly immature tone of a young boy's cheer flitters across Central Park to mingle with the other daily sounds of the few brave enough to enjoy the nippy day. The child, no more than eight years old, runs down the sidewalk with his arms spread out in mock of an airplane. "Woosh. Swoosh," he imitates. Suddenly, the grinding of pebbles beneath his little-man loafers heralds his quick effort to stop. He turns, looking wide-eyed at Ygraine's back - the image of his amazement made only more comical by the pair of black-rimmed glasses that magnify his blue eyes to a nearly bug-like extent. Poor, cute kid. He peeks his head around the edge of the lady's bench, looking up at her profile with a whispered "Woooah."

tFollowing at a slower pace, Celeste snickers as she watches her son 'fly' around the park, a sigh of relief washing over her. She suddenly feels silly for worrying how the child would acclimate to New York. Her cream colored jacket, cinched at the waist with a black tie around, dances around her black slacks. A small, leather bound, journal is tucked up beneath her arm, securely pinched down with her hands tucked in her pockets while the wind picks her auburn lock up into a soft dance. "Cole, leave the nice lady alone," Celeste kindly chides her son as she steps nearer, quickly recognizing the bicyclist as her new neighbor. She frees a hand to offer a polite wave, even going so far as to share the kind greeting towards the unknown motorcyclist.

Starting in surprise, the tattooed cyclist glances around - then flashes a swift grin as she takes in the first speaker's metallic companion (and adornments). Her intended reply, however, is forestalled by the arrival of Cole. Peering down and around at him, she lifts an eyebrow, then tenses the muscles right across her back, before relaxing them… making the entwined dragons ripple.

"Hi there", she says with a smile to both the boy and his mother, before looking back to the motorcyclist. "Y Ddraig Goch", she helpfully provides, in the incomprehensible-to-most strains of Welsh, "and the white drake of the English. There are a few stories behind them yes." Her own accent, when not speaking Cymric, is unmistakably British and educated.

Perhaps here would be a good spot to take a break. She has been traveling for quite a while, and this big heavy thing does take it's toll on such a small person. Kicking out the foot of her bike Raeven leans it towards herself so that if it were to fall, it would crash into her rather than someone else. Concealed eyes wander to the impressed boy, smirking at his amazed remarks. Another nod is spared, this time towards Celeste before adjusting her attention back to a name she couldn't possibly pronounce on her own. "That sounds…rather complicated…" A sense of humor tickling her words. "I'm Raeven." Yup. Pronounced just like the bird.

The temperature may be dropping these days, getting ready for a season change, but it still manages to overheat the leather wearing girl. Her quick solution is to remove the jacket and drape it over the seat of her bike. Her clothing beneath is torn in several areas, showing obvious wear and tear that has been accumilated over the years rather than bought, like the latest fashions have been trying to do. Hardly seems to bother her, though. "I've been meaning to get a tattoo myself. It's just hard to find a good artist while always on the road. Proper care is also an issue."

Cole shies away only a minute degree when the dragon-inked woman turns her attention upon him. He's brave, you have to give him them. He watches the display of shifting ink and chirps a sound of great amusement. The gleam of the motorcycle, however, is a quick new target for his intrigue. The little man disappears back behind the bench, coming round the other side to stand directly before the motorcycle's front tire. He glances to the three women, to the bike, the women, the bike. Sloooooowly, the boy begins to reach out towards the front fender.

"Don't you even think about it," comes his mother's stern tone just before his little fingertip might leave a smudge on the shiny, black paint. He recoils and holds his sneaky hand in the opposite as if the fingers had had a life of their own. Celeste flashes a smile to the motorcyclist as the boy beams a most innocent grin. The woman in the cream colored jacket seems content to remain a quiet observer of the conversing women and her child - tattoos are simply not her thing, after all.

"Oh… it's a story of Merlin, and prophecy, and war and peace", the tattooed Briton says with a playful smile and a shrug. "And I quite agree. I was… very fortunate to find the artist who did this. She's… quite special." Indeed, the detail and colours do look impossibly fresh and bright.

"I'm Ygraine, by the way. And I also like the bike, as well as Cole. Does he have a name?"

She doesn't seem to mind the little boy playing around her bike. It might actually appreciate the company of someone else other than Raeven. Machine and person have been together for quite some time, and god knows they've had their bickerments along the way. All kidding aside, though, she doesn't stop Cole, as long as he doesn't go on trying to scratch away the paint. Ygraine's words snatch her attention once again, and with a slender finger the girl reaches out and touches a custom label on the gas tank saying, "Heavy Fuel. My father named it that for some reasons. I'm not too sure why. Guess I'll stick with it. It's bad luck to change the name of a boat. I imagine it would go the same way with a bike."

She then twists her body so that her rear can sit on the side of the seat, leaning in such a way that would be careful to make sure the heavy machine doesn't fall. Focusing on Celeste and her boy, Raeven asks, "Any chance I can get your names, too? It would be nice to know some local people again."

Celeste's features turn into a sheepish, but pleasant smile. "Oh, my apologies for being rude. Of course, my name is -"

"I'm Cole!" The boy chirrups, rushing around to stand by the motorcyclist, presenting his hand up high in a gentlemanly fashion.

Celeste chuckles, warm eyes lit with a soft sparkle as she watches her son. She glances to Raeven then. "I dare say he has a new crush. Though, whether it is on you or your bike, I cannot be certain." Cole's round, little cheeks turn pink with a wild, hot blush. "Mooooom," he whines.
Celeste smiles. "I'm Celeste Crane. We've just moved to New York, as well. How are you liking the city so far?"

Ygraine also turns around, though she settles onto the bench, rolling her neck for a moment before she grins at the others. "It's not often that I'm the longest-resident person in a group of four", she says with a laugh. "Or five, including Heavy Fuel. Mine's called Alfred. A Triumph Tiger. Rather less of a collector's item than that fellow…"

Children demand attention first, as Cole so obviously points out. She reaches out her hand, facing it up to the sky in a sort of low-five gesture. "Hey Cole! High five!" Kids tend to like that sort of stuff. At least based on her experiences. "Hey Celeste." It's definitely a more casual greeting than what others may do. "I get that a lot, actually. A lot of little ones like the bike." There is a slight pause, letting Ygraine say her piece before continuing to answer the question from earlier. "It's only been my first day here, so I don't have too much to report. Honestly, though, you guys are the first ones I've talked to since getting here. I thought most people would be leaving this place than coming to it, so I'm surprised to hear you say that, Ygraine." She still can't quite pronounce that entirely correct. At least she gave it a shot.

"Ooo!" Cole winds up and indulges in the ever-cool 'high five' before blushing all the more and skittering away. Her resumes his airplane impression, circling the woman in the backdrop as the discuss things outside his realms of interest.

"I've come for the very reason that most might leave - New York City is undeniably the hub of all the Evolved chaos spreading throughout the United States." She shakes her head in a thoughtful gesture. "But, there is so much that needs to be discovered, to be told. I haven't the slightest idea where to start." She brushes her wind-blown tresses out of her face. "Actually," she shuffles a boot awkwardly at the earth and glances around, taking a moment to check on Cole before resuming her discussion. "I'm looking for people to interview. I need testimonials for my novel - mainly those of Evolved." She breaches the subject carefully yet casually, making no assumptions about those in her company. "I have a long road ahead of me, I'm certain." She shrugs, letting the topic be set aside if the other so willing, but allowing it to hang in the air behind the continuation of pleasant conversation.

"So, what brings you to New York, Raeven?"

Ygraine's name certainly stumps a good few - to the extent that she rarely even bothers to comment on any but the worst pronunciations…. After listening to the other two women, and smiling again at Cole, she takes a sip at a drink retrieved from her pack, then shrugs slowly.

"I came back here, after that happened." A nod to the Southern end of the park directs attention towards the ruins, her voice pitched low as she broaches the topic. "A large part of the reason for doing so what that I had the choice. I could come back. See if I could do anything to help. I had the privilege of choosing where to go… and there were all too many people still here who really didn't have that choice. And others who only weren't here because they couldn't survive here any more."

Another shrug. "But there are plenty of others who came in to pick over what's left, or to find prey. For profit, pleasure… or to put prose on a page." A wry smile is quirked at Celeste. "Will your words help?"

Raeven allows Ygraine her moment to speak, taking the time to listen to the situation of those around her. There are a lot of people in New York with similiar stories, and it's bound to happen where show-and-tell becomes part of casual conversation. Such a strange world we live in.

She folds her arms over her chest, focusing her eyes to the ground and finding a place to stare at while recalling the very reason she came. "This is a woman that is suppose to live here. I don't know what she looks like, where she lives, where she hangs out. Anything, really. I have news for her and I need to report it as soon as I can. Problem is I don't know where to start."

Celeste lofts a brow, as if surprised that the topic of her intended novel has hooked some interest. "I most certainly hope so," she says with complete sincerity. She takes pause, thoughtful. "What I know is probably minimal at this point - but, it is enough to conclude that the current treatment of the Evolved is…" she wrinkles her nose, shaking her head, a new tone and depth painting the last and final word of her explanation, "disgusting." She watches the figure eight, 'flying' pattern her son takes around a set of nearby trees. "People need to know. With knowledge, maybe together they, or we, can change something. So, I certainly hope it helps."

Celeste turns her attentions back to Raeven, observing the woman's demeanor with a keen attention. "Sounds important." She furrows her brows in a display of concern.

Ygraine is also drawn to Raeven's announcement, her expression concerned - though Celeste's words were certainly noted. "The… services for finding people are still woefully inadequate. But… it does happen. A friend found her sister, after two years of looking. And things are somewhat more organised now… though your best bet probably remains using whatever contacts you can get across the city, if she's not listed in the phone book. Do you have a name, or any leads on how to find her?"

Raeven lifts her head from staring at the ground, now looking in between the two women and the boy running around playing airplane off in his own little world. "It's only important to the right person." A sneaky answer that can leave all sorts of questions lingering around due to human curiosity. To Ygraine she nods her head only the once. "I know her name is Isis. That's about it. I've already checked out a few appartment buildings for anyone going under that name. I'm going to assume it's not exactly a common one most parents give their child." She then quickly turns around, lifting up a back part of the seat that has a hidden compartment for storing valuable things, pulling out a single sheet of paper that looks a lot like it's for a lost dog or cat. "This is really the only idea I have. Hopefully I'll get a reply one way or another."

"A unique name indeed." Celeste leans forward on her toes, peering out over the revealed paperwork with a curious attention. She frees her hand back from her pocket, extending her fingers towards the paperwork. "May I? That way if I come across anything, I can contact you." Her smile is warm and encouraging. "I'm sure you'll find her. With a name like that, your chances are better than most."

"I'm afraid that I've not met an Isis in my time here", Ygraine says ruefully, before cocking her head and looking curious. "Does she know that you're looking for her? Or that anyone might be? Part of the reason it can be hard to locate people is that… after what happened, many quite deliberately chose to start anew. Sever ties with a past they thought was entirely gone."

"Go for it." She replies to Celeste while releasing the paper in her hand to further confirm her statement. Raeven then reaches back into the stash hidden in her motorcycle seat, pulling out an extra few flyers that are surely meant to be posted about the city in search of the person she's looking for. "No, she doesn't know I'm here." The teen confesses with a tone that knows her task is complicated. "I don't even think she knows I exist. So yeah, this is going to be hard. I might even attact the wrong sort of attention to me, but it's worth a shot."

"Thank you." Celeste draws the paper nearer, giving it a second inspection. "I'll keep an ear out," she comments, taking another opportunity to size up the Raeven girl - she does appear to have any poor intentions for this Isis woman, anyway. She nods to herself more than anything else and folds the paper into neat squares, stuffing it into her pocket.

Cole comes running up beside Celeste then, his little knees pressing awkwardly together while his feet are splayed apart. He rocks back and forth and uses a little hand to tug on his mother's jacket while looking sheepishly at the other woman. "'Scuse me. Mom? Mama?" Celeste lofts a brow, looking down at her son doing the 'dance'. "Oh!" she beings, turning back to the other ladies. "Excuse me please. It was a pleasure meeting you, Raeven. Good luck with your search. Ygraine," she smiles and nods before eagerly taking her son's hand. "Come on." The pair jog awkwardly away in search of an emergency restroom.

"Do be careful", Ygraine encourages Raeven. "There are people aplenty who'll try to get you to pay them or owe them favours in return for promises of knowledge about just about anything you care to name. There're all sorts of undercurrents in this place, and poking around for information can lead you to step into the nastiest types of undertow…"

Looking to Celeste, she offers a rueful little smile and shrug, then raises a hand in farewell, shaking her head as she chuckles at the boy's abrupt realisation of his need to escape.

Refocusing upon Raeven she shrugs once more. "So… would it be horribly rude to ask who Isis is?"

A gentle wave is given to the departing family, not wanting to stop them from taking off when they need to. She then turns and allows her conversation to continue with Ygraine, still leaning against her bike in a rather casual stance. "I'm aware that this can go horribly wrong. But I have to take the chance. I came all this way to find her and this is the only way I can think of that will help me." The question of who, exactly, this Isis woman is is met with a soft exhale and a low shake of her head. "My father and her have a history together."

Ygraine lifts an eyebrow, then blinks. "Ahh. Hrmmm. But she has no idea that you might be looking for her? This could be awkward. Do you have any idea… what she does? What sort of places you should be looking for her?"

Raeven chuckles a little at the merry-go-round conversation, finding a bit of humor in this whole predicament. "No idea. Last time they saw each other was at a funeral, if I can remember corretly. She said she was going to New York after and that's the last he heard from her. That was about a year and a bit ago, so a lot of things could have changed. For all I know she decided not to come here after all."

"It must be impressively important for you to find her", Ygraine observes - sounding rather admiring. "How far have you come to get here? And.. is there anything else you're aiming to do while you're in the city, or is finding her your first and only consideration?"
Feeling a little on the spot Raeven shuffles a bit, specifically avoiding eye contact as though she were afraid someone were trying to see into her. "It's…an awkward story, really. I drove here from Seattle. There was nothing left for me there, so I figured I'd come here and try to find the only person I knew my dad trusted. It's the best shot I have at anything right now. So…yeah. That's all I've been thinking about this whole time. And if I can't find her then I guess I might as well make myself comfy. I hear underground music is pretty popular here."

"Underground? Heh. Depends on quite how underground you want it. There's a place called the Surly Wench, that certainly offers some pretty 'alternative' gigs. It's nominally a punk bar, but it's had all sorts on the stage. Otherwise… Greenwich Village isn't exactly what it once was, but there're some restoration projects, large and small there. You could probably do worse than check out a place called the Rock Cellar. But… what sort of music do you play?"

"Psh. Music is music. As long as it's not folk or country, or anything close to that, it's all good. But," just for the sake of argument the girl gestures towards the entire ensamble of clothing she has picked out. The ripped clothes, the dreads in her hair, her painted nails, pretty much just the whole thing. "Anything rock is the life for me. It's what drives me."

Chuckling, Ygraine ducks her head. "Thought I'd best ask. The Wench and the Cellar would be decent places to try, but… I could also put you in touch someone who's a performing musician and singer herself, if you like. I just listen - someone who plays and writes can probably give you a much better idea of what the scene here is really like."

"I will definitely have to take you up on your offer sometime." Raeven admits with a sense of excitement in her voice. "I've tried getting into singing myself, but I just don't have what it takes yet. Maybe someday, but not yet." It's having been standing in this spot for a while that the girl is starting to notice a cramp in her leg, now pushing herself off her bike and looking around the park. "I don't suppose it would be safe staying here over night. Are there any places you could suggest staying at for a while?"

"I've got just enough talent to really appreciate how far from being any real good I am", Ygraine admits with a grin and a laugh. "But… what sort of place are you after? The closer you get to the ruins, generally the cheaper things are now - even if they used to be grand. Of course, you tend to get what you pay for. Apartments… there're plenty in the city. Too many empty homes… you can probably afford something at least half-way decent, if you've got any sort of cash at all. Hotels - similarly. Motels… you'd probably want to head for one of the main routes in and out of the city to find one, if you wanted to go that route."

Raeven has to ponder on that one for a little bit, thinking over what her situation is for money and the like. "I may just have to lay low for a little while until I manage to find a job and some cash or something." She inhales for a moment, looking about the park again and second guessing her idea of not wanting to stay the night here. "Is there anywhere you would consider relatively safe for sleeping at?"

Frowning pensively, Ygraine cocks her head at Raeven. "Do you have any cash at all? I really wouldn't recommend sleeping rough on your first night here. Especially not with Heavy Fuel to draw attention to wherever you stop. I… might be able to help a bit with somewhere to hole up if you really don't have an option."

"I worked in a lot of different places along the way, just long enough to build up funds to get going again." Raeven explains softly without trying to make herself sound like she needs help. "I suppose I could always break into an abandoned house for the night and take off first thing in the morning. Not exactly a big deal, really."

Worriedly shaking her head, Ygraine sighs. "There are plenty of open places in the Ruins, if that's your best option", she says quietly. "The radiation's long-gone, but there're still a lot of places that have never seen… traffic, since the Bomb. And I hope you don't mind me not inviting you to my home, but we have only just met. I might be able to help to sort something out, however. Something safer than dossing in the Ruins overnight."

Raeven shakes her head at Ygraine, staying positive about the whole thing. "Perfectly fine. I wouldn't have accepted anything anyways. I've been looking after myself for quite a while now. To rely on others would be taking a step back. I'll try sleeping in the ruins for the night. If anything goes wrong I do have this guy," patting her motorcycle, "to get me out of there quickly. I'm a light sleeper anyways, so I'm sure I'll be fine."

"I'm not", Ygraine says quietly. "You probably would be, but even if you're happy to risk your neck, let's not needlessly risk Heavy Fuel, shall we? If I lend you some cash, you can repay it to me in person - or put it on my tab at the Surly Wench. They know me there, and I'm willing to bet you can describe me so that they know who you're talking about…. I can offer you enough to get you a night's sleep and give you today and tomorrow to sort out some cash - whether it's singing on the street or getting a job. Sound reasonable?"

While the idea of borrowing money from someone doesn't sound appealing, it is true that it would be risky in keeping her motorcycle out in public like that. It takes her a moment to come to terms with this agreement, but eventually she nods her head. "Alright, I'll do it. I'll hop on finding a job quickly because singing in the streets doesn't sound like a stable income."

Chuckling, Ygraine nods. "Sadly, it's not, no. Are you any good on a bicycle? The courier firm I work for is pretty much always hiring, and there's generally some old-timer willing to show you the ropes…." As she talks, she delves into her pack, and after a few moments she draws out a few folded-up bills. Three of those are offered to Raeven. "I can take you to the Wench, to my couriers, or to the Rock Cellar now, if you like."

Raeven accepts the money, stuffing it tightly into her pocket so it would be difficult for anyone to try and slip their fingers in and take what she has for cash, nodding a silent 'thanks' in the process. "I don't suppose your couriers would accept me riding -my- bike, would they. Even if they don't I might take up the job anyways. I could at least make enough to store him somewhere so I can run around with deliveries."

"I've ridden Alfred on jobs in the past - he's come in very useful in Winter, in weather when pedal-power just won't cut it. Powered bikes, though, they tend to prefer to avoid." Ygraine looks apologetic. "Still bound by the rules of the road in ways that these ones aren't. But if there's a rush of work they might take you straight up anyway, particularly while you're learning the city. We can ask, certainly."

"Fair enough." Raeven admits softly. She closes the back of her seat, sealing all the papers inside, then kicks up the foot of her bike so she can balance it properly with the strength of her hands. "Where can I find this company you work for? I think I'll jump on getting a job right away so I don't owe you anything longer than I have to."

Laughing, Ygraine shakes her head. "You don't need to worry about any great rush there, on my account. But if you give me a minute to get ready to go again, I can take you to the nearest office. They've got two, now, so I don't need to take you through the Ruins to get there. Extra pay for routes that run through them, by the way - and you don't have to take jobs along those routes if you don't want to. I can show you the main ways I use in and out, if you like, but introducing you to the staff'd be a good first step…"

"Let's just work on the staff part for now." Raeven muses with obvious humor in her voice. She doesn't appear to be in a big hurry, giving Ygraine as much time as she needs to get herself together. Once again her eyes scan over the park, peering out from behind her sunglasses and over those who stroll through the many paths of this place. "I suppose this use to be a very busy location at one point. I can only imagine the crowds here before the world was torn to shit."

"We're still in tourist season", Ygraine says dryly. "Tail-end of the Summer one, but…." Closing up her bag, she stands up to put it back on once more. "When I first came here, this place was pretty much always hectic, in daylight hours. When I first came back… hardly anyone seemed to want to be reminded of what had happened. The whole Southern end of the Park was trashed, of course, quite apart from what you could see whenever you looked that way. And there were the refugees, and the emergency aid stations…."

Shuddering slightly, she shakes her head. "This is paradise, compared to what it's been at points in the past, I'm afraid. You've come to a city that's still ever so slightly broken."

"Well, once I find Isis I might not need a reason to stay. I suppose we'll see what happens." The lass confesses softly moreso to herself than anyone else. Her eyes drift over to the southern portion of the park, expecting to see something through all the trees, only to give up within a few moments. "I guess I'll see for myself what New York is like. One way or another things are bound to get interesting, I think."

Securely fastening her helmet in place, Ygraine glances over the bench to make sure she's leaving nothing behind, then swings her back around to point along the path once more. Swinging astride it, she offers Raeven a grim smile. "If you want to talk, I'm willing to listen. But for now… I'll try to stick to a suitable route for a Harley - no cyclist's short-cuts, I promise."

Raeven also mounts her bike, right leg over first, secures herself in her position, and chuckles while saying, "I don't think you can hear me talk over the engine of this thing." And either because they're moving, or just to prove a point, the ignition is triggered, firing up the loud motorcycle and waiting for Ygraine to lead the way. Of course, she'll go a lot slower so she doesn't leave her riding companion behind in the dust.

While in the Park, Ygraine takes care not to hit any great speeds - apparently anxious not to be responsible for any accidents. Once out on the wilds of the roads, however, she demonstrates a remarkable turn of speed, and a real eye for a gap - and at times is quite clearly avoiding pulling too far ahead of the motorcycle as she passes up the opportunity to take short-cuts and dart across roads amidst pedestrians. Mostly, however, she seems to enjoy having the chance to challenge herself against Heavy Fuel….

It is hardly a challenge to keep up with a biker using pedals. But it is a little harder to keep up with all the twists and turns. She almost has to go a different route at times just to avoid hitting people along the way. And granted while there is traffic, it's not as much as she would have expected there to be, having seen New York only through movies and the media. Things have definitely died down from what she can see.

"Well, you can ride", Ygraine says with a grin and a wink as she holds the door for Raeven. "That's certainly a good first step." The Briton is breathing hard, but doesn't seem bothered by the exercise, her demeanour distinctly happy after the work-out. "Now… this is the new end of things. The original office down South is… a bit more what you might expect from a bike courier's. But we can introduce you to some of the guys who hire and fire here, and they can have a look at you."

Well, Raeven is -far- from out of breath. Well, maybe a little, but that was purely from singing along to whatever tune she has playing inside the one headphone jammed in her ear. Makes riding more entertaining, as well as a little more dangerous. She turns off the engine and dismounts her bike, parking it to the side with the foot to keep it out of the way for any other couriers that decide to try and play accidental chicken with a stationary object. She looks about the old firehouse, intrigued with the idea that it's used for something entirely different, then gestures towards the manager's office at the back. "Is that where we're going?"

"Probably", Ygraine says with a hand-wobble. "I'll check in, and see if anyone's free to talk to you immediately. Wait here, and I'll be back in a moment, okay?"

Raeven nods her head just the once and lets Ygraine handle things from here, stepping away to examine the rest of the building that can be immediately seen.

Ygraine unfastens her helmet once again as she cross the floor, and is soon leant forward, propped on the counter as she talks animatedly with the woman behind it - occasionally glancing or gesturing towards Raeven as she does so.

A short while later, she returns, offering a lop-sided smile. "Well, you've got an interview. I can't promise it'll go well, but it's a short, at least. Fancy a coffee or something while we wait for someone to see you?"

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