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| Scene Title | Sometimes They Do |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Savannah and others in Central Park have an interesting day. |
| Date | July 7, 2011 |
Today, a great day to be out in New York, in Central Park and enjoying the summer weather. Nannies in abundance, pushing strollers, carrying little kids, dusting off sand stuck to shorts and in hair beside playground. Animals pace in the zoo, cyclists cut across the bike lanes, dodging inline skaters and joggers. Boaters row boats rented, tourist stop, snap pictures and enjoy the nice parts of Central Park. The surviving parts of Central Park from the events that marr the middle of the Island of Manhattan and are a dark scar on an otherwise beautiful skyline. At least there's no blue dressed red haired women skipping about asking how would you know and talking to birds.
Well. There is someone talking to birds. An old woman on a bench in this edge section of the park, the promise of cars whizzing by and dogs straining on leashes, sniffing at all the canines who have come before and yearning to leave their mark. Claim this spot as theirs. Whether the older woman can really understand the birds, they do gather around her, pecking at bread crumbs tossed out for them.
A baby in a stroller coo's as a latino woman pushes the stroller, the sun obscured by clouds and making this a nice summer day and not a too hot summer day. A business man strolls, jabbering into his bluetooth a mile a minute, teenagers slink on by in skirts that - probably - their mothers didn't see them walk out of the house with. Another scoots on by on a skateboard, weaving in between people, eliciting shouts. A normal seeming day in NYC, in Central Park.
Savannah's a frequenter of the park, mostly to write, sometimes just to observe people and enjoy life. Sipping from an iced coffee from some small cafe (she likes to support local businesses!), the blonde author idly walks though, searching for an unoccupied bench where she can sit and stay out of the way.
Just down from the bird lady of central park. Someone has just vacated, taking off to parts unknown and leaving prime parking real estate to people watch.
"-eally, I mean, did he have to do that? I mean, who really does that sort of thing anymore" She can hear the whining of one of the short skirt brigade from here, skirts threatening with a good stiff breeze to reveal what might be underneath. Her girlfriends wrinkle their noses in disgust, one even muttering a ew as they come closer.
A small fake basketball bumps into Savannah's foot, in it's wake, a 5 year old bounding up after it, leaning down to grab it and pauses with eyes wide,r ealizing it's hit someone and maybe that person might be mad at him. Across the way, on the grass, a young woman watches with worry at the kid, the passing nanny watches like a hawk and withs uspicion. This day in and age, little wonder.
The author starts to make her way to the Boardwalk of park benches, until she's stopped by the basketball. Savannah offers a small smile towards the kid, moving to step out of his way. "No harm done," she points out, giving a small nod to the child before continuing on her route towards the bench.
BOOM
Everyone feels it. Can't help but feel it. Not a bomb that goes off, though the sound of it could make some think it is. The force with which people found themselves horizontal after having been upright. Not to mention that they were probably a good ten feet from where they were standing doesn't help with that matter. Savannah finds herself on the ground, the world moving a bit, a stunned 5 year old beside her and a ball rolling away. All around, people are much the same, stunned, topsy turvy, on their ass for at least a good 100 feet. Outside of that, people are looking over, some even being so brave as to start to move in, offer help.
The nanny with the stroller - Now on it's side and spilled it's contents out of the bassinett is fretting over a squalling baby, the trio of female teenagers whining about broken ipods, scratched knee's and bitching about what's going on.
Someone of course, screams about explosions, call 9-1-1. The guy on the skateboard has gone ass over teakettle off his skateboard and is looking a little stunned. The lady on the bench is looking surprised, still where she is, but the birds? A few are dead, broken necks on the pavement, others trying to get away, follow the lucky bretheren who took flight safely.
Savannah's stunned. That was certainly not something she expected, especially not on a nice day like this. She doesn't mourn for the loss of her iced coffee, instead turning to the child. "Hey, it's okay… did you hit your head? Are you okay?" Her eyes flicker briefly away as she slowly moves to sit up, quickly scanning for the source of… whatever it was. An explosion could have been far, far worse, but considering this was a little more vague of a cause, there was no reason to believe there wouldn't be more danger.
BOOM It happens again. The focal point being the old lady on the bench who looks on in horror as people go ass over teakettle again, Savannah feeling the concussive force, the way it reverberates through her chest and forces her to land on her ass again. Pushes the kid away across the concrete, scraping his arm. The baby screams louder, the teenagers scream now instead of whine and the Teenager on skateboard scrambles back even as people entering into the fray catch the edge of it and find themselves pushed back a few feet on their feet.
"Evolved!" Someone points at the old woman who's starting to get up, try and get away, bread crumbs forgotten.
Well, that is quite the predicament. Savannah shuts her eyes for a moment before she gathers her wits about her, slowly dragging herself to her feet again. A quick glance at the child tells her that the kid's just got minor injuries, so she's up to move towards the bird lady. So much for feeding the birds, tuppence a bag. The blonde puts her hands up in the universal mean-you-no-harm gesture as she looks to the woman. "If you're doing this, you need to focus and control it so no one gets hurt," she offers gently.
The old woman is already backing off, trying to get away as fast as creaky body and cane can get her. Away from people who are starting to speak up and not in favourable ways.
Somewhere, a piece of bread goes flying - wide - of Savannah and the old woman who has a bit of panic in her eye. "It's not me" She protests feebly. "It's not me, I swear it. I've never had an ability!" Savannah will have to keep walking, even as the teenager - closer inspection, he's really cusp of adulthood - is following, watching. But not too close.
The protest gets a small nod from Savannah. "Have you ever been tested for an ability before? People sometimes manifest them later. I just want to be sure, is that alright?" She continues the gentle tone, moving after the woman, though she keeps enough of a distance. "If you aren't sure about it, if you think just maybe you have an ability… try and focus and stay calm. I'm not going to let anyone just gang up on you."
"It turned red, but I don't have anything" There's another piece of something thrown, hitting Savannah even as the ominous clip clop of the mounted cops in Central Park that patrol seem to be bearing down from ahead. The blonde haired skateboarder has no qualms about pointing to the old lady. "That one" He proclaims, even a hint of a smile as he visually pins down the old lady.
The old Lady who's turning to Savannah with bright eyes set deep in wrinkled face. "I didn't know. You have to understand, I didn't know. I never did anything like that before"
The blonde author winces slightly as something hits her, but her gaze is pulled to the other blonde. A small frown is directed towards the skateboarder, and Savannah looks back towards the old lady. "It's alright. This happens to a lot of people, and no one has been seriously hurt. Just take a deep breath and try and keep yourself composed. There are people who can help make sure you understand how to control it."
"I'm too old for this stuff to happen" Hands shake, sticking close to the author even as it seems inevitable that there will be police coming in to talk with the older woman, as people start to gather but nowhere near too close for fear of it happening again. The teenagers looking at the old woman - and by association, savannah - with no small amount of disgust. "I'm too old, they thought nothing would ever happen" It does happen, people who test positive but never manifest. Anything. She reaches out, a shaky hand settling on Savannah's even as the policeman tips his helmeted head to the two of them and is inquiring about registration and identifications please. "Stay with me?" The skateboarder remains nearby, watching like a hawk.
"I've heard stories about things manifesting in both young children and the elderly. I know it's quite a shock. Sometimes people never manifest, but sometimes they do," Savannah takes a moment to glance at the crowd gathering before looking back towards the woman, placing a gentle hand over the older woman's. "I'll stay. Don't worry about it, let's just let the police know what's going on and they'll help take care of things and make sure that no one is hurt." Her eyes move momentarily back towards the skateboarder.
Skateboarder comes no closer, in fact he slinks back, the pieces of composite wood tossed tot he ground, hopping up on his ride and with a push of his foot against the pavement and a lift of his middle finger to Savannah for her hairy eyeball - or maybe because he's just a little punk - he's off, disappearing into the crowd who are starting to gather and peer.
There's a fraction of relief in the older womans eyes when Savannah agree's to stick around, glad for someone kindly in this melting pot of angry people that the city seems to have become. It'll be hours, before all is said and done, conversation, investigation, release of the old woman with an appointment with homeland security to see if she is the one who caused the trouble. Tears of thanks for sticking by her for Savannah as well and a promise of tea, a day of her choice and invitation to come over.
And somewhere, in the city, there's a blonde shaggy haired adult, who can pass for a teenager, smirking beneath his far too long bangs.