Participants:
| Scene Title | Strawberry Fields Forever |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | An unexpected meeting between two friends occurs at the most predictable place they could manage. |
| Date | December 8, 2010 |
Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever
It was a long and bumpy ride, but when Ygraine's steel horse comes to a halt, it's within earshot of the gentle lilt of music, faint in the open air. The noon sun is high and bright, but it's still very cold, and the figures who have gathered at this edge of Central Park are bundled up tightly. In fact, considering the chill, it's surprising how many people are out here. Out here in the little nook of Central Park called Strawberry Fields.
Who is it that Sable is to meet her, Ygraine asked. She didn't answer, because there wasn't an answer. Not really. She's here for a person that's gone. It's because a person is gone that she's here. On this day, he left. Was taken away.
Puffy and black in her winter coat, Sable ambles over to the landscaped space, past trees and into the enclave where a milling crowd listens to music and sets flowers into the pattern of a peace sign. Black and white photos cover the are, making if it some vast memorial collage. Photos of a man, long hair, round glasses. Sable is not religious, not in an identifiable, definable, demographic way. But the man she's here to pay respects to today is the closest thing she has to a personal savior. John Lennon. Rest in peace.
Sable isn't the only one out for the afternoon to make a stop by the memoriak of Strawberry Fields. Not to meet Sable, in an amusing turn of events, but simply to pay her respects to a musical visionary, someone she regrets won't be around when she finally hits her time for stardom. While she is, admittedly, more of a Paul McCartney person, there is nothing but respect for the other half og the Beatles' main songwriting team.
Bundled up in a long black button up coat, a heavy looking ankle length skirt, and warm stockings to match, Quinn walks her way towards the memorial at a brisk pace - she is, after all, supposed to be at work soon, and she can't be too late for that.
The crowd is about what she expected, something which brings a smile to the modern musician's face. Hands in her pockets, she walks alongside the outskits of the crowd, mouthing words toherself.
At least, until she takes a wrong step and stumbles right into someone, complete with arm flaiming and an "Oh shit!"
Sable finds a bench to perch upon, settling down and scanning the crowd with her odd eyes. It's not a scavenger's look, as is so often the case. Not a casing or a guard keeping. She's gathering all the little personal moments, private expressions of a shared experience. Unity without conformity. The briefest glimpse of a dream.
And then Quinn has to klutz up. Typical.
The 'oh shit' is much too loud and much to familiar to go unnoticed. Sable looks up in stark surprise to see the flash of red hair disappear behind a man in a big lumberjack style coat with a hippyish knitted hat. For an instant Sable thinks she must be imagining things, but no… there was no mistake. Sable hops up from her seat and toddles over, not the closest and therefor not the first to come to her aid - people in this space, in this moment, could hardly afford to ignore the calamity, however clumsy, of another person. Still, Sable's there quickly, offering her hand, smiling.
"Hullo there, Quinngirl."
The impact with the ground below is hard, and damnit, it hurts. She manage to avoid taking the other person down, but it has her turning mid air and landing hard on her arm. Not hard enough to break it or anything, but certainly hard enough to knock the breath out of her, leavning her wincing on the ground for a good moment or two." She rolls over with a groan, blurry vision staring upwards absently. There's a bit of a crowd forming around her, and that has her embarassed enough that she just wants to lie there and stare upwards.
And then, of course, she sees a hand and the greeting of Quinngirl.
Eyes snap open and vision clears, Quinn following the hand up to Sable and blinking. 'What the fuck ar eyou doin' here?" she intones for all of those around here to hear - and that's just about the stupidest question she could ask. Taking Sable's hand, the musian pulls herself up, just sort of staring. How in the hell did she manage to find her here, now? That's just too good a brush of luck.
"It's December fuckin' eighth," Sable says, helping Quinn to her feet and reaching up to take her shoulder, making sure she's steady. "Y'all think a papist worth a damn misses Good Friday?" she smiles, broadly, though it's not as toothy as it normally is. "Y'all are a papist yerself, I f'rget that." The smaller girl steps around Quinn, brushing off her jacket, fussing a little. "Didn't 'xpect t' see y' neither, though. Didn't expect not t'. Like… I ain't surprised 'cept that it weren't 'xpected." She wrinkles her nose. "Y' follow me, surely?"
"What." Oh. Oh! "Oh god, of course you're here, I'm just bein' daft," Quinn says with a laugh, looking back over towards the crowd - that of which around her is now finally starting to disperse. "Jesus feckin' Christ, I am glad t' see you," Quinn says with a wide grin, moving to wrap arms around Sable in a rather tight hug, a kiss placed on Sable's cheek. "I follow you, I think. I actually totally forgot this was t'day. I jsut- got back into town this mornin' if you know what I mean." And the way she peers at Sable says, yes, she does mean Pollepel Island.
"You make a good point about Good Friday, though," Quinn notes, "even if there's nothing good about it." She moves to the sid eof Sable, so that they're both facing back at the memorial. "Glad I bumped int' you. Been worried about you, pretty badly."
Sable's arms squeeze Quinn in return, and her eyes bat shut for the kiss. She eases back, yellow eyes peering up at Quinn on a diagonal. "There's no one y' c'n save that can't be saved," she says, rolling her shoulders in a shrug, "we got what he gave us. We'll be true t' it. All we can do." There is most definitely a reverence in her tone, a tinge of the spiritual that shows just how seriously she takes this.
"Worried, hon?" she says, brow arching. Sable quirks a very slight smile. "Didn't mean t' worry. Whatall y' worried 'bout?"
"Well," Quinn says as she continues to stare on ahead at the memorial, moving a arm back around Sable - partially because she's happy to see her, partially for genuine warmth. Not just an excuse for once! "You kinda just… ran off, with no warnin'. With Colette. I don't need t' be a rocket scientist t' know that these are things go t'gether as well as oil an' water." There's a bit of a chuckle, largely at her own joke. "So, yeah, worried. I'm glad you at least called, though. I imagine both Elaine an' I would have gone nuts if you didn't at least call."
"Fire 'n' oil, darlin', fire 'n' oil," Sable corrects, with a dourness of tone that still effectively confirms Quinn's general sentiment, however Sable may tinker with the particulars. "But I ain't gonna talk 'bout that. Not my place. She asked me t' do somethin, had t' give her a hand. Jus' something," a pause, a slight tilt, leaning into Quinn a bit, "fuck, I dunno. Need time is all."
Yellow eyes cut up to Quinn again. "Y'all send my love t' Elaine, y' hear? Gonna see her 'gain b'fore I do, figure," her gaze returns to the memorial as well. Another song begins playing. 'Imagine'. The eternal theme. "Heard from yer gal we got some opportunity, some sort?"
"Unless you head back t' the apartment t' warm up - an' you're welcome to - I probably will. I'll pass it on t' her." As Sable's head leans against her, her hand moves up, ruffling her hair. "Sounds like there's are interestin'. Goin' back?" She squeezes Sable again, and lets her hand drop down - but this time she takes Sable's hand. "I kunda rather you'd hang around, but I don't blame you for helpin' out. We all have things t' do right now, you know?"
The mention of an opprotunity has Quinn grinning. "You- saw Ygraine? I mean, yeah. I… kinda gotta job offer. THe kind that's going t' have a big effect on the band an' I kinda wanna get everyone t'gether t' talk about it. But I'll take what I can get, if you have the time."
Sable gaze is set dead ahead, fixed at some distant, invisible point. Her lower lip juts out just a little, but her fingers lace with Quinn's. "Jus' got shit I gotta figure out. Shit I gotta do. I won't be-" a pause, "I ain't goin' nowhere, don't you worry none. Jus' need t', like, make sense 'f shit.
"'N' yeah, Ygraine drove me over, gonna drive me back when she gets done doin' whatever she's doin'," Sable says, with a nod, "got two dogs back at th' place I'm stayin', can't jus' leave 'em, y' know?" Her eyes narrow slightly, in feline consideration. "Jesus… y'all know I'm curious. But… feels like might be better t' let it wait, if y' c'n afford it. I… I figure I want m' head screwed on straighter first. If it's really all that big, eh?"
"If you don't think you're up for it at the moment, that's fine," QUinn replies, leaning against Sable with a grin on her face. "I didin't think you were goin' anywhere. BUt we do miss you. I'm tryin' t' get the band t'gether on Friday t' talk about- the offer. I have t' decide by the weekend." Just, you know, no pressure. "I got offered a studio producer job. LIke, radio and TV producer." She does lay it out there for Sable, though. "That's the short version for you t' mull over when you're Feelin' better."
Sable nods, "Friday," she echoes, "sure, sure." There's something still a little distant to her tone. Her engagement isn't full, the vivacity and intensity that are usually Sable's hallmarks are, if not gone, then muted. The news, however, brings a startled spark to Sable's eyes. "That so?" she says, brows lifting. She smiles, and this time it's very full, though still lacking the flash of her teeth. "That's real fine, hon. Real fine." She rises up on tiptoes, tilts Quinn's cheek and pecks her on the lips. "Congrats."
Quinn gives a week smile. She can tell Sable's looking rather distant, unattached - understandable, if something's weighing on her mind as much as she seems to indicate. She squeezes Sable's hand tighter, looking down at her with a smile. "Not yet. It's complicated, but I'll tell you all about it later." She leans down, kissing Sable on the forehead. "But, I'll stick here with you until you head on back t' whereever you're goin'. I gotta get t' work after that, though."
Sable's eyes slide shut, hand squeezing in return. "Thanks, hon. I missed y'all. Been missin'. Will keep missin'. But I'll be back. Like I said, I ain't goin' nowhere. There ain't nowhere I c'n be that ain't where I'm meant t' be." She lapses into a brief, reverent silence. It's some time before she says, softly but distinctly. "Love y' dearly, Quinngirl. Y'all never f'rget that."
The silence lingers a bit longer after that before Quinn speaks up herself. "Didn't think you were. I wouldn't be standin' here in the cold I fi thought so. I'd be kickin' your ass all the way t', like, a fountain or somethin'. I dunno, I just know it would be wet an' cold an' unpleasent." There's a pretty wide smirk on her face, Quinn looking down, and once again leaning down to kiss Sable on the temple. "Love you too, dear. Don't ever even question it."