Participants:
| Scene Title | Playground Squabbles |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Isabella finds the woman from her flash, but does not find any answers. |
| Date | September 03, 2010 |
A massive, sprawling collection of gravestones, all as unique from each other as the names and dates printed upon their faces. There is a chaotic feel to this place, overcrowded with those that have passed away; a jungle of crosses, statues, tombs, domes and headstones as simple as jutting teeth. Winding pathways lead several different tours through the plain, and there is a kind of anxious peace to this place, and its visitors are few and scattered. There is an awe-inspiring view of the wrecked skyline of Manhattan, reminding those that don't need to be reminded of how fast life can be snatched away.
Some people go to the cemetary to grieve. Some people go to the cemetary to give updates to the dead about life as it goes on without them. Some people go to the cemetary to soak up the spooky vibes, or commune with ghosts.
Isabella Dawson is not one of those people.
Isabella is, in fact, a terribly insensitive person, strutting past the mourners and the visitors with her phone glued to her ear. "No. /No/. You're not hearing me. I said /small/ animals. Like, tiny little…furry…cutesy… Yeah, fuck it, whatever. Just get the whole group. Whatever."
Monica Dawson isn't one of those people, either. (No relation). She's here for the view. Standing off away from the mourning and grieving, the woman all in black looks over the ruined Manhattan skyline, apparently deep in thought. Deep enough that she doesn't notice the woman's voice cutting through the silence. But she is in clear view.
"Mice are /too/ small. Hamsters are better. Rats? Ew. Gross. Well— okay, that'd make it easier I guess. … No. What, fine, you want me to do it on babies, I'll do it on babies. So get me a handful of babies. No." Isabella is getting odd (and offended) looks from those around her, but she doesn't care. Sporting big sepia-gradient sunglasses, a white tanktop and a knee-length bohemian red skirt, the petite Asian woman is perfectly dressed for the heat. Her hair is done up in a ponytail off her neck, bobbing along to her steps. "Ha ha. Very funny. Shut the fuck up and just get…" And there she is. Isabella nearly drops the phone as she spots Monica across the way, and after a half a minute of stunned silence, she mutters, "Call you back." Click. Now… if memory serves… and boy does it ever… this chick is wicked with the kung fu. Best approach cautiously. "HEY!" she shouts, striding towards her. "Hey you!" Or not.
It does get her attention, not because Monica thinks she's being addressed, but because there's someone shouting suddenly.
Oh, but then it is for her. She lifts an eyebrow and looks… on guard. Wary. "Something I can help you with?" She's not busting out wicked kung fu just now! Which is a good thing!
And that woman hailing Monica isn't stopping at a nice safe distance; rather she's getting all-up-ins, jabbing her finger at Monica's chest. "You! What the hell do you know about all this shit that's happened? Did you do this to me?" And now her lapels are grabbed! Psycho-woman at two o' clock! Or, well… five. It's nearing that hour, anyways.
Monica… really wishes she could say this was the strangest thing that's ever happened to her. She pulls out the kung fu now, now that she's being touched and grabbed and there's all this yelling. Her arms knock Isabella's hands away and she grabs the woman's wrist to twist painfully. "Okay, you need to calm down. I don't know who you are and I don't know what you're talking about. So I think you better leave before I call the police." Of course, her hand keeping a tight hold on that awkward position makes it a little hard for Isa to get up and leave. As if she would.
Isabella squawks in surprise and then growls, following the twist of her wrist so as not to snap it. But in retaliation, she focuses, with the aid of pain and adrenaline, and Monica's hands holding her wrists start with pins and needles. "You were in that vision," she snarls. "The stupid — the November 8th vision. What do you have to do with this?"
Pins and needles, she seems to be able to handle, although her eyes narrow. "I don't have anything to do with them. I blacked out just like everybody else and that's all I know. You should really be bothering the authorities with this. Or check 4chan. Instead of attacking people in a cemetery of all places." The southerner seems to disapprove of your tactics!
"Why was I fighting you?" Isabella snarls, pushing that blood away from her hands more. Her hands are starting to feel a little weak, grip weakening. "And you're the one who attacked me!" Grr!
"You tell me! I didn't see anything about a fight!" Monica is shouting now, too, because… well, this is probably the person that kills her. And that's always fun. When her hand weakens, she does let go of Isa, dancing back a few steps. "You grabbed me first." Yes, they are having this playground argument.
"Well what did you see?!" Isabella shouts. By now, they're gathering a little bit of a crowd, as Isa skids back a few steps when she's let go. "You twisted my wrist!" Playground, right over here, folks. "I'm not letting you out of my sight till I figure out what the fuck this is about!" Monica's arms are feeling better.
What… did she see. What a question. "The fires. That's what I saw, the fires." Monica looks around at the crowd, and then back to Isabella. "Lady, you're crazy. I don't have the answer for you. I'm just as confused as everyone else!" And there she turns to start walking away. From the Crazy.
Isabella growls a bit, and as Monica starts walking away, it seems pretty clear that she won't have the answers. But Isa will have to find her again, and interrogate her a little more thoroughly. Frustrated at losing her quarry, she rounds on the crowd. "What are you looking at?"
Monica is pretty quick about getting out of there, too. She's not looking to answer anyone's questions, particularly if anyone in the cemetery decided to call for the police. And being the ninja that she is, as soon as she hits buildings, she parkours her way up to the roofs to make an out of sight get away. Ninja Vanish!
And Isabella stalks the other way, shoving people out of her way if she has to. She's not happy. At all. So much for her day.