10258/Log 10258

Log 10258
Date of Scene:	30 November 2019
Location:	Central Park, Manhattan
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Volt, Magik, Ivory

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Volt has posed:
Late in the afternoon, and most folks have turned in against the increasing chill of a New York winter! Not Drake, however. The sky started gray, distant and foreboding rumbles echoing between the colossal skyscrapers of the metropolitan city. As if anyone needed more reason to take cover. But again - not Drake. The sensation of the ionizes atmosphere, the moisture-rich air, it's all... envigorating? Maybe that isn't the right word. It feels good. Relaxing.

And then the rain broke out and he feels like an idiot.

Thankfully wearing his recently-bought threads, he pulls the hood up against the water and finds a gazebo in Central Park to bunker down in. Small, but an elevated platform with a domed ceiling, it's nice - picture-esque, even. But the rain has decided to start coming down in sheets, making it hard to even see anything beyond twenty feet or so in any direction. The sky brightens with frequent flashes as lightning races amongst the heavens, and what choice is one left with but to hang out and relax in it?

Though at least after a few moments, he lets the hood back down again.

Magik has posed:
In all fairness, Illyana trudges through the park looking a tad bedraggled. It's not the oversized sweater or the leather pants that stand apart, both being perfectly functional and in fine condition. A few strands of her hair escape the bunched buns, falling in her face and escaping in a pale golden fringe. Exactly the sort of weather to flatten her hair out and soak her like a drowned Russian if the sky decides to open. She is not escorted by mor ethan her own shadow, something that looks exactly like everything else. See, normal girl. No cellphone out, no pile of bags from a Black Friday sale. No headphones suggesting she's out for a run.

Leather pants work poorly for that sort of thing, anyhow. Her head lifts right as the clouds break and proceed to inundate her in the middle of the path. Cover is a sprint right or left, at least a hundred feet, unless that bush or a sapling planted with some kind of plaque were sufficient. It isn't, of course. So, behold, the girl is soaked in a few minutes of stalking with her hands in her pockets at a quickened pace for some kind of overhang. Presuming the wind isn't in play, throwing branches around.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory dressed in jeans and a winter coat featuring a white persian cat pawing after a snowflake, Ivory was trying to take a shortcut through the central park to get home. Their feet somped onto the freezing ground, throwing up dirt with their boots. "I hate the winter rains..." they grumbled as they spotted the gazebo, and clearly failing their rolls on 'detect evil' and 'sense motive' just as much as the 'senese hostility', she dashes for that one to get out of the water that promises to be pouring down any mmoment.

They're not fast enough, water starting to drench them before they reach the building, shaking themselves to get at least some water off the coat as they enter. "Ugh... Why today?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley is certainly none of those things anyway! The person still out there, however... well, he's a social optimist. And when Ivory joins him, it's with a chuckle. "Because you decided to go out today. That's how it works, y'know," he notes, playing into the lamentation.

Illyana's shape is discerned amidst the sheets of rain, but only vaguely. Drake moves closer to the gazebo's edge, and he places his right hand on a pillar while waving the left to try to be seen. "Hey! You can hide out up here if ya want!," he calls to her.

Oh yes. Twigs are flying all about in the stormy winds.

Magik has posed:
Pacing longer, but not sprinting, Illyana may already have sacrificed herself to the rain gods. There isn't much choice there, slipping between the raindrops being rather difficult when embodied and more than a few atoms wide. Rain drips from her nose and jaw, pooling in her eyes. The long bangs turn a darker shade of flax, plastered to her forehead as the rain builds. She scowls at one of the dismal shapes in the distance, blurred by the falling sheets. The atmospheric pressure bears down and a heap of leaves fallen in the recent chill swirls around. One threatens to smack her in the face, stopped when she thrusts her hand out to block it. At least there's that. Better than nothing?

Drake's voice might not be much audible through the scorching rain, but the general gist can be picked out. She's certainly not likely to complain, blinking water from her eyes, at shelter in the distance. Boots squelch as she approaches, a tattoo made loud where she certainly isn't. If someone's empathic on the detect evil side, she is bound to be frighteningly confusing on that sense. But otherwise, she looks wet and nonplussed by reaching the pillar. Another branch tries to smack into her.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory snorts as they try to get the white hair somewhat dry while they send a little glare to Drake. "I just wanted to take a walk, not get turned into a catsicle." they remark, totally faining both detect evil and detect wyrm, because honestly? They aint nobody who can actually use the magic flowing in their veins in any other means than being catty at times. And hopping the gender fence more often than people change socks.

"Eh, you... DUCK!" The last sentence gets aborted as they point to the branch flying in on Illy, taking cover behind the railing themselves. "that storm's not normal...)

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley looks somewhat confusedly at Ivory at the mention of a catsicle. And then the attire is noted more fully. Right. Cat motif. Got it.

Drawing attention to the foliage flying in at the new arrival, Drake swings in to bat the branch away with a firm hand. "Down! Down, Mother Nature!," he mock-scolds. Afterwards, he leans back away from the chilly rain and puts more of his focus on the soggy blonde, offering her a sympathetic smile. "Y'okay?," he asks as he stuffs his hands into his parka pockets. "Just started raining cats and-..," he glances to Ivory, then back to Illyana, "..well, cats, pretty suddenly."

Magik has posed:
Duck is a shout that translates well enough. Illyana doesn't stand there and question what Ivory calls out, she does as bidden. Not particularly tall to start with, bending from the waist as she darts around a supportive pillar should give coverage from the naughty branch. Bad trees, pelting people! They feed you and poison you with their overfertilization and their too many cars. All said, the Russian glares at the stick. It does not incinerate or smolder. It lies there harmlessly where it can do no harm being punched on the ground.

"Bad day," she says with a flat, mirthless resonance. The accent is Russian for all her syntax is perfect. Using the back of her hand to push her wet bangs from her face, she looks up to Drake and Ivory. Those frosty blue eyes are clear, not clouded. "Wet. Just..." Her sleeve drips enough water to be a puddle. It's a sweater, that will not dry immediately. Her pants squeak as she climbs the stairs.

Ivory has posed:
Ivory smirks as they slowly get back up after the assault of the tree ends and it is kind of safe again. "If it was raining felines, you'd be having them extort you for pets and treats. That out there? just silly storm."

They stretch, then look over to Illy and Drake again, offering them a hand, some residual moisture glistening on it. "I'm Ivory."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley hadn't really left the gazebo to tilt at errant branches, but rather just swiped the one offender down. He's been here long enough that he's starting to dry. Cold skin comes soon after, but he didn't get the brunt of it. It kind of looks like that award goes to poor Illyana.

The hand is offered to him, and he starts to take it for a shake - only to spot the wetness. If not for the weirdness of wet stranger hands already, he has an innate avoidance for too much water, especially at the hands. It does unfortunate things to his powers. "Drake," he introduces with an apologetic grin.

To Illyana, he cants his head a little. "If it were the summer, different story, right?," he muses sympathetically. After a beat, he's starting to shimmy out of his parka to offer it over to her. He has a slender and sleek frame, but he's pretty sure anything he wears would drape easily on her, and his parka is at least reasonably dry; bound to be warmer. "Maybe this is life's way of getting ya to slow down a little and take a breath, eh?," he posits.

Magik has posed:
Illyana makes her way under the cover of the gazebo. She stands near the edge where the puddle that will no doubt accumulate under her feet, along with her shadow, can be forgotten. Trying to hasten the process means wringing out the hem of the sweater that hangs almost to mid-thigh, squeezing it out and soaking the cuffs a little worse. Such she can make do with, but her hands are occupied whilst Ivory starts a round of handshakes that she doesn't participate in. "Illyana," she explains. "Just Yana if you want."

Her blonde hair hangs long and heavy, split by an interesting pair of black barrettes that should probably be attached to a headband of some kind. For now, she looks a bit more like a drowned cat. "Why are you out in this weather?" This question is for the other pair, not rude.

The offering of a coat, though, takes her by surprise. Her eyes lift, cool as frost, but not frozen entirely. A certain uncertainty lies there, going from the coat to Drake and back again. Maybe his coat has teeth. "I can sleep when I'm dead. Let me dry this off a little or your coat will be wet too."

Ivory has posed:
Ivory shrugs as neither of them takes their hand, tucking it back into the coat. "So, Drake, Yana... bad day to be out, yea." They shrug again, glancing over to Yana a moment longer. "I was out on doing things and then tried to take the shortcut through the park to get home but alas, weather hates me."

Volt has posed:
"Weather hates everyone," nods Drake matter-of-factly. "Always an abusive relationship."

His hands reposition over his offered coat, now holding it by the shoulders and at the ready. When Illyana seems sufficiently dried, he'll step in and gingerly set the parka about her shoulders. He doesn't draw any special attention to the suspicious looks she's giving him over it. Her frosty blues are met with vivid, blue warm greens. "Illyana," he repeats, giving the name a whirl. "I wasn't doing anything productive. Just taking the city in. Lived here like two years and never just stopped to look at it."

Another glance to Ivory, then back to Illyana. "Russian?," he asks bluntly. "Or am I way off?"

Magik has posed:
"Abusive?" Illyana arches an eyebrow at that. She's busy wringing out the last of the water from the sweater around her leg, but that's the best she can hope to achieve without causing too much of a mess. Eventually she has to concede defeat, but that's a bit of a time off. Squeezing as she goes along, this is a process of particularly dull ambitions but suitable. "Bad luck then. Better to be here while it's blowing out there." Winds snarl and catch the branches, shaking them firmly.

Her sleeves aren't going to be any less damp but she at least runs her hand over her neck to banish it. A bit of a bristled stiffness enters her movements when Drake lowers that coat over her, a stifled 'Thanks' given barely above a whisper. So, right, less cold and definitely less wet. Her bangs are still plastered to her. "Da, Russian. What gave it away?" That's a bad effort at a joke, but she tries all the same. "Did you anger the weather?"

Ivory has posed:
Ivory snorts a little at Drake's joke. "weather abusive? Can you call nice summer days and a beautiful Newengland Summer abusive? Or are you such a city-person that even the idea of weather being nice at times is hard to grasp for you?"

"Yea, better in here and stay somewhat dry while we hope that the storm is over fast. I mean, if t keeps on raining for hours we're gonna freeze no matter what, and I don't like that prospect."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley settles to coat around Illyana delicately, then steps aside from her. No ulterior motives, no sneaky fangs in the coat - just offered warmth. "Call it a hunch. Just don't do it if anyone asks you to say 'moose and squirrel'," he jokes. He has no idea if she'll get that one. After a beat, he's giving a smile. "I like it, though, it's nice."

The smile falters, however, and he gives Ivory a dry look. "Take it easy."

Magik has posed:
The joke about a moose and a squirrel sails about twenty feet past Illyana's head, landing in the howling thunderstorm besieging the city. Or maybe it's just the park. "Thank you." Again, repeated, as though rusty with disuse. Ivory compels her to look out at the sky, hand shielding her brow from another buffeting by the wind. Leaves bounce around, the odd trashy tumbleweed headed along. All that speaks to a certain risk out there, something not to be trifled with. Maybe it's worth staying put in the gazebo.

"You will not freeze," she says. "A bit cold. The temperature isn't supposed to drop far." Her tongue flicks over her lips, which haven't yet turned blue, as a mercy.