Participants:
| Scene Title | Welcome Wagon |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Some Eltingville Blocks residents are neighborly. |
| Date | October 18, 2011 |
Afternoon isn't what it used to be, especially for those who reside in the fancy new community. New being the operative word, given that it's only been a day since the push to fill vacant domiciles has begun. The houses aren't really new, and the so-called community would look better on an Alfred Hitchcock set. Children don't exactly play in the yards here, and there are no mid-autumn family bar-b-cues on front lawns.
That's not to say that Eltingville is a figurative ghost town. There are people around, scatterings of residents still trying to go about their day-to-day's; trying to put the pieces back on the game board and resume playing at Life. One or two adults shuffle along to or from home, for example. And over yonder is a trio of adolescents fresh from school.
One such youth, apart from the trio by a measure of the street's width, walks with none of the purpose of the others. They all seem interested in returning to their personal dwellings, or at least in not being caught too far away from the safety and sanctuary of home and hearth. A one Bethany Ruslan, better known as Koshka, retains a curious look to those she passes by, and her pace is almost leisurely as she observes building and human alike, while clutching schoolbooks to her chest.
Over, In, Out. Over, In, Out. Tug. Smooth. Over, In, Out. Long and strong fingers deftly weave strands of thick brown. Glint of sparkly black nail polish flashing from time to time. There are thin black rubber bands secured around the wrist of whoever owns the hands. Raquelle Cambria has a teenage girl sitting in front of him on a rickety lawn chair, the young woman's head tilted to the side as the hairstylist is finishing off the second french braid. This scene takes place on the little front porch area of his 'new home'. He's actually standing up behind her, bent over so he can secure the style. A series of 4 neatly parted french braids, eventually twisted into 2 pigtails hanging down her back.
The hairstylist is clad in dark blue button down left open over a fitted black tank, dark jeans, black and blue converse sneakers and his own hair-do is less angular and choppy and more artfully shaggy, falling down past his ears. This has been part of his routine. "Alright sugar. That'll do you."
The Teenager straightens up gathering her backpack and books, offering the tall palish man a hug before she in turn is handed a tupperware container, it is rather large. "It ain't much Gracelyn, but you tell your mother if she needs more, I always have some." He winks and shoos her away before kneeling beside the chair to retrieve his hair supplies, pausing to watch people pass by. Koshka, gets a small smile and a friendly wave.
"Kosh!"
The voice comes from the direction she came. A familiar voice to her. When she turns she'll find one Brian Winters jogging forward to catch up to her. A small glass platter in his hands, and on that platter what seems to be fresh baked cookies. The teenager will know this as a strategy the former Agent has been trying lately. New people. Trying to get a sense of unity in the blocks, as much as he is able to. And so he has become the self appointed welcoming comittee. And unfortunately for Koshka she has been lumped into it as often as he could find her.
"New family. Come with me." Brian murmurs in hushed tones to her before looking over to Raquelle with a bright smile.
Whether or not she says yes, one arm is going behind her back to gently guide her over to Raquelle, the platter of cookies leading the way.
"Welcome. These are for you. My name's Brian, this is Koshka."
The hairstyling is indeed a curious thing, and something that causes Koshka's feet to slow just a tiny bit more. Strange to see something so openly, if simply, pretty in such a dull and dreary place. And even when she's caught looking, Raquelle is offered a friendly, albeit cautious, grin in response to his wave.
And that's almost it. She may have said something, begun a greeting of sorts, when her name breaks through the quiet ambience that is The Blocks.
The teenager's head swivels to look up at the man and her steps come to a nearly complete stop when Brian reaches her. And then Koshka's moving again, feet shuffling as she falls into step, and focus going back to Raquelle. "Hi," she offers with that vaguely cautious grin and shrug.
They haven't been here long. But it was long enough for Raquelle to meet little Gracelyn's own newly arrived family, look at the state of her hair and offer to get it done for her while sparing some extra supplies for upkeep. Its highly likely, his baby girls are sleeping. A well groomed eyebrow raises as guyliner rimmed blue eyes flick between the two members of the welcoming committee.
"Well thank you kindly darling. They left the hot dudes and pretty young things out of the brochure of I would've made sure to wear my extra shiny shawl of indignity and ghetto fabulousness." Raquelle drawls softly with a roll of his eyes as he moves forward to meet the two, offering a hand to Brian. "Raquelle Cambria, glad to know some people still remember how to be all neighborly and shit." A look over to Koshka and he nods towards the lawn chair. "Go on, have a seat. I'll hook you right up."
Eyebrows arch, cheeks flush some, Brian looks over to Koshka with an expression that says 'wow'. Then back to Raquelle. Handing over the platter of cookies the handshake is returned. "And if everyone who arrived was as friendly as you, I feel like we wouldn't have any problems around here." As Raquelle offers to just start on Koshka, Brian chuckles lightly shrugging at her before motioning for her to go forward.
"We're at 303 Sycamore." Winters informs the man with a smile. "You need anything you come by and let us know alright? We've been here for a bit and.. I sometimes have a pretty strong link to the outside world."
"This place is definitely ghetto," Koshka remarks flatly and to herself. Brian's first glance her way is missed, she's being nosy all while being rooted in place. Her attention, while she's half listening to the adults exchange greetings, goes to peering at the hair supplies and trying to take a peek in the window of the house behind its new inhabitant.
Good thing she's paying partial attention to the conversation, or she'd have missed the offer. Koshka meets that with uncharacteristic shyness and a look to Brian. Well, if he says it's okay… The teenager's feet carry her haltingly forward, schoolbooks hugged like a shield against her chest.
"You could have 1 dollar hos on on every corner being friendly as could be and you'd still have problems as a good chunk of us didn't move here because of the amazing school district." Raquelle's words might be bitter but he's still smiling and chuckling. He accepts the plate of cookies and squeezes Brian's hand all friendly like before releasing it. The names and locations are being submitted to memory. "303 Sycamore, got it Mistah Winters. If only to get a peek at them pretty eyes of yours and to see if I can cut myself on those cheekbones"
Then he's holding up a one moment finger so he can mosey back into his 'house', returning without the plate of cookies. "My girls are still getting settled in." Read: Scared and Exhausted. "Can I offer you all some juice or water or anything?" He points to the chair again, inviting her quietly. "Don't be shy darling. We'll get you a hair-do that'll make you the boss bitch of the street. 'She Betta Work' will replace the 'miss' before your name." He winks and flashes a grin.
A light smile to Raquelle, he sags his head chuckling quietly. "I'm engaged. But damn if that isn't flattering." Though before Raquelle can let go, Brian's grip is tightened on his hand. Pulling him in for a moment. Lightly and under his breath is muttered. "Stay strong." The squeeze of the hand becomes more gentle then before releasing. After that brief note of solemnity he turns back to cheerful.
A smirk follows Koshka hesitant step forward. "You must not be on the neg-pills." He pauses. "Negation pills. We have a lot of cheery nicknames for them in here. Because no one can make her shy like that." Laughing lightly at Raquelle's words he shakes his head.
"I'm good on anything to drink, thanks."
The girl casts another look at Brian, half challenging of his tease, half still wondering if she can actually participate in something not… awful. She does sit, with the verbal prodding, and settles her schoolbooks on her lap. "They're more like gag-pills," she opines, elbows resting on the arms of the chairs and feet hooking about the legs. Or, one foot does, the other drags toes against the ground.
Its that mutter that slithers through the tiny cracks of Raquelle's wall of lippy resistance. Every fiber of his being feels the opposite of strong or capable. What little strength that courses through him fueled by 80 Love and 15 Rage and 10 Fear of the Unknown. It manifests in the waver of his smile as he meets Brian's gaze for a moment and then looks away.
He makes his way behind Koshka, brow furrowing before he listens to the 'joke' about negation pills. "Neg or Gag, neither one of those sound particularly nice in regards to somethin' that has to go down my throat." Comb, Brush, Spray Bottle. He gets to work, spritzing down the hair, there's some lotion he uses as wel that smells like warm cookies and shea butter. Then he's using that comb to start parting and separating hair.
"So, tell me a little about yourselfs? How long have you lived here? What do you do?" A pause. "Engaged hunh? I might be Engaged too, I'm not sure yet because hooonnneeey, let me tell you. This has been a shitty year."
"Well.. Congratulations? Perhaps. My fiancee is not here. Though. I'm still with her." He gives a little shrug. "I'm a replicator." His voice goes a little high with the explanation. Evolved people and their introducions. Names then powers. "So there are more of me. Not here. I'm the lucky one." He says, words laced with sarcasm. Though glancing to Koshka, guilt can be seen erupting on his features.
"But obviously I can be here with you.." He kind of trails off at the half assed apology. "Yeah, you can say that again." He allows Koshka to take on more of the talking, watching as the other man starts to fiddle with her hair. His smile can't be helped. Despite the world falling around them. Something. Something bordering normal is a beauty that cannot be fathomed.
There are some things Raquelle may not understand, but he is hella good at listening and he blinks a few times. "There are more of you." He repeats. "Well. Damn. That must be hard if there are more than one of you, not being able to be one all together as opposed to put all out there." He gestures idly with the comb. "Miss Oshkosh baby, pick a color ribbon." He nods towards one of the plastic tubs that holds some ribbons/bows/etc.
"As he's waiting he just asks. "I'm just gonna ask. Are the schooles here shitty as the streets?"
If there's any offense taken, it's shown in the form of her own apology. She'd be out, had she made better choices, kept her head down. As it is, Koshka gives Brian a roll of her eyes. Like she'd ever hold his abilities against him. "Since March-ish," she supplies, lilting the answer into a question. It's been a while.
When prompted, Koshka tilts forward to look into the tubs. "Make sure you walk your kids to school every day," she says as she picks out a pleasantly pale blue ribbon. "And you meet them after. Inside's not so bad. Sometimes rough, but the adults try to keep order." Mostly. The ribbon is offered up to Raquelle as the teenager settles back in the chair.
"Not that hard." He shakes his head, folding his arms over his shoulder. "The trick of it is just living different experiences at the same time. Keeping it all straight. I've said some stupid things in the wrong body more than one time." He lets out a laugh, head tilting back as if recalling those good old days. "But while we're negated in here. I'm cut off from the rest of me. So." Another shrug. "Easy."
Koshka's eye roll is met with a smirk. "They can't keep us negated all the time in here." Leaning forward and in a conspiritorial tone, "If you want any information on the outside. I'm totally willing to send one of me to find things out. Just let me know." Leaning back on his heels, he looks around. "You got kids? One or..?"
Raquelle is filing info away, timelines, basic child safety, etc. The ribbon is taken and with precision and yeeeears of practice, his fingers start moving in the braided pattern, tiny taps and such nudging the head where he needs it as he works. "I have…two daughters. Both under 10." He looks down for a moment and then continues working on braiding Koshka's hair into a crown, braiding the ribbon into it as well.
"Two daughters, their na—"
His words are cut off by the sound of a man yelling somewhat nearby. Looking over his shoulder is a small group of men. All wearing blue bands around their arms. They seem to be swarmed onto a particular target who seems to be rather defensive and alarmed.
"Civ patrol." Brian intones quietly to Raquelle.
It doesn't last long before the men are heading their way and Brian is quickly turning back to Raquelle and Koshka.
"We'll come by later and grab you. Have you and your girls over for dinner. But for now, best to head inside. They'll take any excuse they can find." Winters is going to place his hand on Koshka's shoulder urging her to get up.
"As long as you're inside they should leave you alone. We'll come check on you later. Quick, now."
Backpedalling with his hand on Koshka's shoulder he turns at the last moment. "Oh, Raquelle.."
"Welcome to E-ville."