12935/First Stop

First Stop
Date of Scene:	01 April 2021
Location:	St. Margaret's Church, Bushwick
Synopsis:	Some random people meet at a church.
Cast of Characters:	Liansong "Song" Qing, Nightcrawler, Nightingale

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Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The hour is late. Nearing eleven o'clock in the evening. When Liansong had arrived in this city, he had been warned of places that are safe to travel to, and places that aren't. Given his... interesting appearance. Bushwick, Mutant Town, is one of those places that had been in the documentation. He'd arrived earlier that afternoon. There had been pacing and fussing and then preening and checking for new feathers that needed to be dyed. Nope. None. It had been an hour before dark at that point. He'd turned once more to the 'Welcome To New York City' packet he'd been given. And that had led to places of interest. Which had led to here.

Getting here had been fairly easy. Maps and modern GPS being what they are. Song has a phone, afterall, and had made expert use of it while he flew to this place. This church. It seemed the safest bet for a church to come to. He's not terrifically religious, but sometimes, one wants to come and give thanks for landing in one piece in person. And so, here he is.

He steps into the church, does Song, from the doors. Letting it fall closed behind him, the tall black figure approaches the alter. His wings hunch up above and behind his head, and they settle somewhat around him to help keep in more warmth as he walks. He wears.. human type clothing, but obviously specially tailored to fit his physique. Such as it is. A sweatshirt, first and foremost, to give consideration to the cooler temperatures than he's used to. And a pair of pants that are full length. The only bits of him that actually show are the wings, his four fingered hands, his fore toed feet, and his head. The talons on those toes click softly as he walks down the aisle.

Nightcrawler has posed:
The hour is late, and there generally aren't folks in the church at this time. It makes the timing of his visit rather ideal, as far as he's concerned. There are a lot of places that aren't very accepting of those who look... different. But thankfully, this is not one of those places. This church welcomes mutants, welcomes those who look different, and it accepts them into its flock of parishioners. The church is open -- it's a sanctuary, after all, and the Father of the church is well aware of Kurt's penchant for coming and going at late hours.

There is a sound that comes first. A BAMF of air being displaced from a space. And there are tendrils of blue-ish purple-ish smoke that have the aroma of burning brimstone to them. And stepping away from those tendrils is Kurt. He's wearing a pair of black jeans, and a light grey button up shirt that has long sleeves. His hair is its usual tussled arrangement, for there's likely no such thing as taming it. His pointed ears give a slight wiggle as he listens, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. He is not alone here tonight. That's... unusual.

Kurt stops for a moment, and his glowing yellow gaze turns towards the other who is within the church. Someone he hasn't seen before. Someone he doesn't know. Then he continues on his way towards the aisle in order to start to head towards the altar himself.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Song had come here specifically at this time simply because the hour is late. His wings, with how they are wrapped partially around his body, are lower than usual, slightly, and the tops are parted, leaving a gap to see the back of his feathery head. The sound catches his attention and his head turns. With the sound at his back, his head turns very nearly all the way around. In the relative dimness inside the church, Liansong's eyes reflect some of it back, in that faintly green luminescent way that happens with many a wild beast. And cats, dogs, wolves, cougars... And owls.

His ear tufts had been down prior to turning his head around, now they rise, like curious ears. The feathers on his face fluff out a little bit too. The pale pink beak in the center of his face kind of stands out as being pretty out of place amidst black feathers.

Then the beak gapes open.

Is it going to attack??

"'Allo, mate," comes from that open beak. The English is perfect. The accent very, very Australian. The beak clicks once as it closes, a deliberate sound it would seem.

Nightcrawler has posed:
The head turning as far as what it does, that causes a flicker of curiosity to come to him. That's super interesting. And owlish! And the features are also owlish, too. He doesn't seem to be bothered at all by the unusual and avian appearance of the other who is in the church. He is, it can be noticed, without any weapon at all. The reflection of light in the other's eyes is also noticed, and that's easily accepted as well -- his glow, after all.

Kurt is given a moment's worth of pause when the beak opens, as that could be read in a few different ways. "Good night to you, guter herr," he says softly, the words perhaps affording glimpses of his pointed teeth. And there is a faint German accent within his words. "It's good to see a new face here," he adds, inclining his head towards the avian. He continues his approach to the altar and stops once he's reached it, and thus come closer.

"I don't mean to intrude on you. This time of night brings few, but I am one of those few that comes to pray at such an hour," Kurt comments, a smile coming to his features.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Song studies the other as much as the other studies him. The reflection remains in his eyes until his head turns just a bit more. At that point, his eyes no longer glow. They're not facing quite the right direction to reflect the light anymore. Now, they are just blue. A pale, glacial blue. They match the beak. But again, the dychotomy with the black feathers. What can be seen of his two backward facing pink toes doesn't match the black feathers either.

That pink beak gapes open again. "I'm new around here, too right," he says, voice cheerful and upbeat. Could it be that the beak gaping like that is a smile? "And happy as a clam to be here too."

That head turns, swiveling again, body still facing toward the alter. The eyes take in what there is to see. And apparently approves. "Lovely church you lot have here. Reminds me o' the one back home." The head turns again, watching as the blue fellow approaches, and passes, him. "Ah. You won't be alone, then. Night hours are best for me too."

Liansong starts forward again, talons clicking softly on the floor as he resumes his approach to the alter.

Nightingale has posed:
     It had been an eventful, if somewhat stressful few days. Events of the sort that might have ended very differently, had one arrow missed its mark. Even the strongest in spirit sometimes could use a little comopany in their musings. Shannon had, knowing Herr Wagner's penchant for night-owl hours, thought to seek him out, only to find he was nowhere on the grounds. It was no secret, too, of the importance of his faith to him.

     That left one place to come looking.

     Leaving a note in her dorm, she dressed for a chilly evening flight and headed for Bushwick, and St. Margaret's church. She was in a pair of flannel-lined jeans well-suited for flight, a cream-colored tunic sweater, and her favorite caramel suede boots, with her hair tied back to keep it out of the way while in the air.

     The sound of large wings beating the air might be heard momentarily outside, as she backwings to a landing outside the church. She wasn't exactly strong of faith, but had come seeking company. Oh, she found the one she sought, alright. But, she also saw someone completely unfamiliar. Hesitating, she holds back, sliding into one of the pews at the rear of the church, keeping quiet and out of the way, a silent witness for now.

Nightcrawler has posed:
The eyes which had been reflecting the light are quite a pretty shade of blue. Not as dark of a blue as what Kurt is himself, but still pretty. His gaze lightly flicks over the avian, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "I like your tattoos," he says, giving a small nod after the compliment is offered. His tail lightly swishes back and forth behind him, a smooth and sinuous sort of movement.

The avian seems rather cheerful, which is something that Kurt takes as being a good sign. "I'm glad to hear that. You'll find this part of town, and this church, to be quite accepting of those who are different," he says in a thoughtful tone. Except for that once, but that might have been an anomaly. Kurt lifts a hand, tussling his hair briefly before lowering his hand to his side once more.

"It is a good church, ja. It has good people. Night hours are a habit, I suppose. Not all places are like this one," Kurt says, his tone slightly wistful. "Your company is welcome," he adds, giving a small nod. Once he's to the altar, he pauses, perhaps waiting for the avian. Then he turns to mostly face him before offering his right hand. "I'm Kurt Wagner," he offers, a smile easily coming to his features.

Partially facing the door at the back of the church, somewhat sideways to it really, Kurt's attention is caught by the movement of Shannon into the church. One of his eyebrows quirks up a touch. "Ah, Shannon, good night to you," he offers to her in greeting, a smile coming to his features.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The sound of those wings and someone landing are indeed heard. That head swivels again, to see who, or what, made the sound. Those large eyes catch the light again, and reflect luminously, faintly greenish blue with it. And finds the one who'd come in. Liansong grins that beak gaped grin of his. "'Allo!" He really does seem to be a cheerful fellow. The voice is lower pitched, giving at least a hint that the owl might be a male. His wings are still wrapped about himself. He might be a little cold, for how his feathers are puffed out a bit.

His head cocks, turned just a touch to the side, and then Liansong realizes. "Oh. The beak, yeah?" His hands don't lift from where they've tucked themselves beneath some of his feathers there at his belly. But his head does swivel back to Kurt. "Thank you. They're actually paint, rather than tattoos. Can't tattoo a beak. Well. Can. Doesn't stay that way. I like yours too." He nods, very deliberately, before looking up again. "This is good to know. And what the brochure led me to believe. Even back home, such was the case. And that was in a city where people were used to us." Clearly, mutant issues are world-wide!

"Night is just better, sometimes. And I have no issues at night, so it works out." Song's head bobs at the introduction. "Qing Liansong. Call me Song. All me mates do." Definitely an Aussie. Or maybe a Kiwi. His attention, and his head, turn back to the new entry. He bobs a nod at her, but doesn't say anything more than he already has.