Participants:
| Scene Title | Like A Lot Of Little Pinches |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | June comes by the garage and fixes a few tools for Devi, they talk about tattoos and the cost of power tools. |
| Date | August 26, 2009 |
Anarchy Customs
As is her usual, Devi is at work in her garage. The biker tinkers with a cruiser-style motorcyle, fine tuning the last details of the comleted piece. Fingerless gloves, black-leather vest, and torn skinny jeans tucked into her boots, she tosses one of ther tools aside, stepping back to give the two-wheeled vehicle a final once over as she fishes a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket.
Staten Island has its own Good Samaritan and her name is June. The woman has spent the good portion of the last few weeks just wandering around picking up trash and fixing the damaged.
For clarification purposed, we're talking about property and not people.
As June approaches the garage, she recalls being in another garage not too long ago where she met Thalia who has taken her in. Getting a nice warm vibe from one garage, she decides to check out another. But not before kneeling on the sidewalk to fix a crack that has run across to the street. She places her hand near the crack and the cement almost seems to liquify as it molds into place and then events out, the crack disappearing before solidifying again. She stands up and brushes off her hands on her jeans, adding more dirty handprints to those already gathered, then steps into the garage and looks around.
Attention already waning from the motorcycle, the sound of a new arrival into the ehco of the large, cluttered garage is an easy exchange for her interests. The biker diva lofts a brow as her dark gaze finds an unfamiliar face. "'Sup?" Devi begins, turning around more fully as the tip of her cigarette takes on a little glow and a smokey trail.
A little flick of her fingertips banishes a fluff of bangs from her face, revealing more tattoos and her curious expression. "Somethin' I can do for you, doll?"
"You did a good job on that motorcycle. It looks really nice." June doesn't touch the bike, but steps towards it then stops. Several things flash through her mind, and the smoke from Devi's cigarette causes her nose to scrunch up and she gives a little cough. "Was it broken?" she asks as finds her eye wandering from the bike to look around the garage.
She's rather dirty, though she started out the day showered and with clean clothes. Now her clothing is littered with handprints and smudges. Her brunette hair is tied behind her and there are even a few dirt streaks on her face as her blue eyes seem to be vert curious themselves.
The girl's questions and her comfort around the garage earn her a skim of the biker's attention, not unlike the earlier, scrutinizing gaze that had been given to the motorcyle. "Yeah, it was," she offers easily enough, a serpentine haze of smoke trailing from her lips before she waves her cigerette-wielding hand towards the motorcycle. "Know a bit about bikes, do ya?" she inquires with a lilt of curiosity.
She steps forward then, folding one arm beneath her bust and canting her head to the side. "Look like ya had a rough day, kiddo."
"No." June responds as far as if she's familiar with cycles. "I don't think I know much about them at all. It just looks nice." she says as she walks over and picks up a couple of tools and puts them back where she thinks they belong. "I've been working to clean and fix things on the island because it's dirty and broken." she explains as she then coughs again. "Do you have anything that needs to be fixed?"
It's apparent that the woman is just a tad fixated on this as she is looking around the garage for anything that might be in need of repair. Of course, then she gets distracted by boxes of spark plugs on a rack and walks over and begins to count them outloud.
Devi's tilted nogging slowly level back upright, only to tip right on over to offer a perplexed expression from the opposite angle. "Got some screws loose there, sweetheart," she remarks, even as a smile conducts the corner of her darkly painted lips up into a smile.
With a fluid gesture f pushing forward and bending down, she plucks up a milk-crate full of broken tools. Wrenches, screwdrives, and other goodies split in half or otherwise beaten up by use or frustration. She just has to see this. She sets the box down beside where the woman is counting through the plugs with a loud clang, leanging back with a grin as she pinches out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray.
"Twenty three. Twenty four." Then she runs out of spark plugs to count. June turns at the question. "I don't think I have any screws loose." She's not sure, you see. "Do you?"
The box of tools get a glance and then she reaches inside to find a very bent wrench. "Five eighths." she reads off the side. "Craftsman." She holds it out in front of her and unbends the metal, making it straight again. She doesn't seem to exert any effort, so brute force is definitely not involved. She sets it aside and picks up a power tool of some sort. It doesn't look broken to her, so she sets it aside as well. The next one is a bit different. It's a sledge hammer, but the wooden handle is snapped off of it. She picks up both pieces and finds that they fit together. She holds the pieces together, but since they are two seperate components now, she just can't blend them together. The two pieces of handle begin to form tendrils that swirls around together and form a tight bond. It's rather ugly, but effective. "This might not hold for very long. You should probably by a new one and be more careful next time."
Frickin' Evos everywhere. Devi watches the display with a stoic expression that does not entirely register her inner turmoil - Wendy's comment. Shard's presence. Just, frickin' everywhere.
The sledgehammer, certainly the most interesting of the repairs, is plucked up and weighed in both hand. "Yeah, I've got a few screw loose and marbles missing. Nothin' self medication can't fix," she admits, She knows her problems well enough to admit them, but not to face them.
"You're handy to have around, girly," she notes on a friendlier tone, lips tilted into a half-grin. "How'd you do that?" She drops the hammer to the workbench with a clang and fixes her dark gaze on the woman even as she reaches out for the powertool. She fingers the trigger, but the mechanism remains dead. "Hm."
Wrinkling her nose up at the tool that doesn't work. June reaches for it and tries to make it work. "Junk." Her hands begin to move over it and instead of fixing it, she begins to reshape it. The plastic, the metal, the wiring inside all begins to move as if they're clay being molded. At first, it's hard to figure out what exactly she's doing with it, but then soon it becomes the shape of a car. It's not a perfect replica, but it's apparant what it's intended to be. When she's finished, she pushes it aside and digs into the box, seeing if there's anything else.
Twisting metal, plastic, and wires - it was like tripping. Devi cants her head to the side as she watches the components melts and contort under June's will until the little car is left in it's place. "Woah."
A pause, and then: "Hey. You know how much that cost?" Still, she presses a finger to the miniture replica and rolls it across the workbench's surface. "You didn't anwers my question, kiddo - How're you doing that? And, what's your name, anyway?" Usually she'd offer her hand, but she finds herself hesitant to touch the woman - can't imagine the horrors if the woman could metal and reshape her flesh as she had harder matierials inside the crate of broken goodies.
"It costs nothing. It was junk." Her attention is distracted by the questions. The box is left alone as June turns back to Devi. With a small shrug, "I just can fix things. I don't know how, but I just can. I'm June." June doesn't offer her hand either, though she does notice Devi's tattoo. "Who drew this on you?" She gets closer and reaches her hand up to touch the raven on Devi's throat. "Does it come off?"
"Hey now!"
Devi's hand shoots up, catching the underside of June's wrist. Wearing the leather, fingerless gloves, she keeps her digits splayed up and out of contact, even while the cusp of her palm creates a shelf for the young girl's reach.
"It's a tattoo. You've never seen a tattoo? It's permanent, won't come off- ink pushed into the flesh. And, I don't appreciate touchy-feely, little girl's poking at 'em, alright?" She continues to support June's wrist, leaning back at a subtle, but awkward, angle. "I do tattoos. You should think 'bout getting' one. Expression of the self, art, and all that good shit." She pops a brow into a curious expression, even as her gaze flickers between the girl's easily distracted gaze, and her outstretched hand.
June is startled momentarily as Devi grabs her wrist. She slowly pulls it back. "Well, I can't hurt you. You're alive." she explains, as if she that should help Devi's understanding of the situation. She's found out the hard way that she can only affect inanimate objects and materials. Whether what she says is enough for all of that to come across..
"What kind of tattoo should I get?" she asks, still curiously peeking at the drawing. She then notices the stars as well. "You have alot of them. Do they hurt?" she asks.
Devi lowers her hand once the young girl's touch retreats to a more safe and comfortable distance. At the 'explanation' of the ability's limitations, the biker diva eases only slightly. This kid's take on things isn't very concerete, after all. But, it was just such a fact that made her rather interesting…
"You should get an image that means somethin' to you. What really moves your heart, kid?" She looks over the girl again, this time trying to take in the details of her form and imagine depictions of various artworks upon it. "Hurts a bit. Nothing too bad, for the most part. Dependant on where you're getting' the ink. Like being pinched repeatedly." She shrugs. "I could do your tattoo…"
June wrinkles up her nose and takes a step back. "Well, I don't like to be pinched, so I don't think I want one." As for what is closest to her heart. She wishes she knew. Her gaze wanders back outside for a moment. "No, I don't think I want a tattoo today. I should go find something to fix. This place is pretty broken." The island. "You should help sometime. If you can fix the motorcycle, you can fix the island." She starts for the exit, and looks back to Devi, reaching up to tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear, only to add another smudge of dirt to her face in the meanwhile. "I'll be back sometime."
"Fix the island?" What's with people lately? Doing the good deed and asking for her assistance.
"You know what, you should come back. I got some friends looking to 'fix up' the island, just like you say. Come around. Meet 'em. Can't hurt, right?" Her soft spot for the hopefuls, the niave, and the youngings is beginning to show. She gives the girl a supportive nod and a farewell nudge of her chin before turning away from the door and back to the make-shift modle car that was once a 'junk' powertool. "Weird kids and evos," she mumbles, though the word ties a knot in the pit of her stomach.
Evo. Evo. Evo.