3846/Except for February...

Except for February...
Date of Scene:	10 February 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Thistlewalker, Scarlet Witch

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Thistlewalker has posed:
Thirty Days hath September, April, June and November.. All the rest have thirty-one, except February.. Which has Twenty Eight, Twenty Nine in a leap year...

Thistlewalker likes February. he always has. It is the border between the sleepiness of winter and the awakening of spring. A surreal time, where it is neither one nor the other. The weather still cool enough for there to be snow on the ground (some places) but warm enough you can wear a lighter jacket during a sunny day.

Luckily he resides in one of the few places he can truly be out in the public to enjoy it. Thats what he likes about Salem Center. It is one of the must mutant tolerant towns he has ever been in and, in some ways, it reminds him a bit of Douglas Dale back in Scotland.. though of course more Americanized. More Normal Rockwell than Robert Burns.

That doesn't mean people don't stare as he strolls through the park. They just aren't completely impolite about it. He /is/ a sight to see. One of the larger mutants to attend that local school. And, of course the fact that he doesn't wear shoes. He has on his usual loose white linen shirt and hempen slacks and his leather satchel. The only consideration to the season is his super colorful wool scarf that must be wrapped eight times around him and still almost hangs down to the ground. He offers smiles and nods to people as he passes... In some of his footprints grass can be seen pushing through the snow.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
In some ways, she is like him. An anomally.

Oh, it's not that she doesn't understand how to fit in, to look normal... it's more that there are things about her that are so inherent to her being that she will never be anything other than that which stands apart.

While he wears linen and bare feet, and leaves prints of grass, she is dressed like so many others in a coat and boots, a scarf hastily wrapped about her neck..

The difference is, she doesn't need those things. If she were to have forgotten them at home, she would have been as toasty warm as if she'd dressed like one prepared for the depths of winter cold..

February was one of the saddest months. Dreary. Dull. Only the barest nod and hint towards the returning of the light. True, the days were longer. Percepibly so. But there was still not the hope of late March or early April upon them. February was the time of quiet. Depth. Dark that only barely and begrudgingly lost its hold upon the earth. The time when she most truly felt the depths and despair of her soul.

If October was the darkness of rebirth promised, February was the darkness of rebirth denied.

An irony. How the seasons fell out of sync with their promise.

And today she was the memory of things that the quiet of spring holds within her hands. Come here to this place to think amongst the crowds enjoying the paleness of winter sun. The everlasting hope of humanity.

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker comes to a stop near the ice rink, where children and their parents are enjoying gliding across the ice. Skating was never a thing, really, for him. It never was that big in Scotland. But he does enjoy watching the people enjoy themselves while they ca, duing this intermitent open window of good weather.

Yes, February can be dark, but unlike many he can literally feel the promise of spring beneath those large feet. His vine-braid, usually lethargic in winter when outside, have pepped up a bit and his wood-grain-like skin has more brown to it than grey.. He can feel the life of hibernating plants all around him,getting ready.. preparring.. their saps not as thick.. the sunlight making them hum lowly.

He squats down, sitting on his haunches,starring out over the ice... And then catches sight of a vibrant red color, amidst the browns and blues of winter wear.. he raises a brow as he recognizes the bundled up figure and he offers her a wave and a smile.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
She could feel those things if she allowed.. it is within her to. She is, after all, all that can be, is, and may be, wrapped into one singular bundle of possibility..

But today? Today of all days, she chooses to merely be the darkness. Not in her soul - though she feels it there. No, merely in that she allows what is to be, not yet letting promise touch her. Accepting that this is the fallow. That this is where death meets its end.

Some would say Samhain is that - the celebration of the dying of one year into the next.

She would argue that while that is so, there is also the now. That there is a reason for the 28 days - that the soul could not bear more. That despite what science or history says, she knew better. That it was merely a thing of the soul do deep, so entrenched in the psyche of what it meant to be human, that the world of science and history had spun itself to follow what must be, and not the other way around..

And despite all this, despite how she can feel the depth of dark to the deepest roots of the earth, she offers him a shy smile in return.

Like spring, there is promise in that smile. The memory of life returning. Totally unaware of the picture she makes, a vibrance against the dulls around her.

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker cants his head slightly as he looks towards her, that smile offered, as if he is not just looking at her but.. listening as well. He knows the smile is sincere, but he feels as if she is also still mired in the darkness of winter.

"Why so glum, lass?" he asks, and he reaches down and brushes away some snow. He then presses his hand against the earth beneath it and from between his fingers a sprout.. well.. sprouts.. lengthening, thickening, unfurling small leaves.. then a crown of a flower... Honey suckle. He then carefully plucks one of the trumpet-like flowers from the stem and rises, offering it to her. "Perhaps something sweet fuir a sweet lass tae make 'er feel better?" he asks.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The shyness of smile remains as the flower is offered. And truly, he has pegged it right. She is mired in that darkness. But it is also what she is - the reflection of reality. To be any less would to be not herself.

Still, there is room in that to be suddenly spring. The warmth of a sunbeam. The memory of that promise..

The blossom is taken and settled beneath her nose for a sniff. "Not so much glum as.." She looks up from the bloom, letting the pale white of it nestle against her skin, shades of alabaster. "Without the time of death, there is no life, yes? So not so much glum as allowing that there is the wheel that must turn. Still, look, there is you."

Her smile for him is all the promise of spring. Making the bloom he offered look dull and pale. Though her moment only lasts that - a moment; a heartbeat. Still, it is enough. It is promise.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Wanda's smile remains that pale-spring promise of things to come.

"I am well enough." Though something of her says this is not entirely so. Well enough, maybe, but still there are things that trouble her. She is like the light and dark together, caught somewhere inbetween. "But you? You are well?"

Suddenly changing the focus of the conversation to leave him the spotlight, and her nothing more than a shadow.

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker doesn't seem to have much trouble having the focus being turned on him, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he strolls down the park's path. "I be well.. as well as I can be, at any rate.." he says, non comitally, then stops and looks at the city beyond the park.. towards mutant town. "I was hopin' I could enjoy jus' bein' me, yae know? Thinks in America wuir supposed ta be better fuir mutants.. but only a few dozen blocks frum 'ere it is like it is tha 20th century again.."

He shakes his head. "Makes me feel a wee bit helpless, ya know? I dinnae wanna fight. Dunno if I even can...."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Again there's that sad little look from Wanda. "I am sorry," she murmurs, even though it is not her guilt to bear per se. Though she does feel keenly her part in letting her father remain as he is, fully within grasp of his powers. "I know what you mean. We are so much the same, all of us, and yet we are so different."

She nods, plucking a bloom from the honeysuckle and handing it back. "We are all so much the same," she repeats. "All of us frightened, yes? All of us only wishing to not be afraid." Her words end in a sigh. "We should be happy, yes? Only I know what you mean. It is like a weight, knowing that no matter what we do, or how we pretend, it is still part of what we are. Who we are."

She walks along beside him, her footsteps leaving little melted pools wherever her feet touch upon the ground. "It is good to see you."

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker suckles on, well, the honey suckle.. worrying it between his lips as he savours that faint lick of sweetness from the blossom.. and for all intents and purposes like like a kid with a straw pertruding from his lips. or a seven foot tall leprechaun.. which is silly since he is scottish, not irish.

"My Da called em last night... makin sure I wuz okay.. He says all this anti-mutant sentiment is al over tha news.. I 'ad ta talk 'im out of flying over.." he says with a sigh. "Me mum wanted me ta get a flight /back/. I ain't gonnae do that, uv course.. Not yet anyways."

He then smils a bit at Wanda. "And it is good ta wee you, as well.. A familiar face durin uncertain time always bolsters tha spirit..."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
His words lighten her - at least the ones about seeing her again, leaving her nodding, and ducking her head shyly. "It is good to see you again, too. You make me remember good things. Sometimes I forget."

Her fingers play at the stem of the remaining honeysuckle in her hands. "Do you see your parents much?" She, herself, can see her father with any frequency she wishes, even if sometimes that is a fraught thing. And while her parentage itself is something of a confusion, she knows that not everyone has that luxury. Or parentage who accept what they are. So many mutants finding themselves with family who not only do not understand them, but are frightened of them as well.

Though she reminds herself that is not the case with him.

"I wish I could make it all better," Wanda says softly. As though she couldn't if she set her mind to it... except for that fact that such an action would come with a price. A price perhaps too terrible to pay even for the outcome. It is a thing she's struggled with for some time now, balancing what she is and can do with what must be and what must be left alone.

Sometimes failing at both those things, and being merely human.

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker stops beneath a pine tree.. there are surprisingy few of those in central park. He reaches up and tuches a pince cone that has closed itself for the winter and still hasn't woken yet. He too is blushing, not sure why though. He's not used to giving compliments, perhaps, or receiving them either.

"Well, nae since I moved ta tha school. Me mum still works back home as a Forest Ranger... Da was on deployment in tha middle east when I came 'ere, and he just got home.. I don't think either uv em 'ave been to America befuir.."

But we facetime every few nights... And I call me gran every wednesday and sunday..." he shrugs. "I'll see em again in a few months.. Perhaps around christmas.. But I needed ta get out from tha village.. ta see tha world.. experience it fuir meself.."

Yeah, he seems to have a pretty close knit family. There are many mutants who don't, especially those who can't hide it, but he seems to have lucked out.

He then takes a deep breath as the pine cone opens and drops to the ground... a small shoot of green already pushing free. "I wish we didnae NEED ta make it batter..." he says, finally. "And I am afraid if we try /too/ hard ta fix things, we may make it worse.. There needs ta be a balance... If /we/ fix things, fix everything, there is no balance because we did all tha work.. it needs to be fixed frum BOTH sides."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
There's a released breath of relief as he says that: that fixing things might make it worse. Almost as if he's absolved her some, or at least allowed her a moment's peace from her inner turmoil.

"We would do things with the best intentions," Wanda agrees softly, knowing in her heart that would be how she would start out; knowing just as well that it would not end that way. "I am happy you have your family. My father, he is.. he is what he is, but I know that he cares."

She has siblings, too. All with that same conflicted mix of love and regret about them.

She hunkers to regard the pinecone, and the small shoot that is pushing up. "We can not leave it like this, you know," she says softly, smiling. "It is too little to survive what remains of the winter." Almost as if asking permission, or for his help, her gaze lifts to Thistle's questioningly.

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker slowly lowers himself until he sits on his haunches, looking at the pinecone and it's small shoot. The bit of green does not flare up and grow any more unnaturaly, though.. he just studies it. "We are all what we are, lass.." he says quietly. "We just are usually mistaken as to what that 'is', is." he then looks up at her.

"I dinnae know yuir dad, so I will just hafta go on what you say, or don't say as well. But he /must/ care.. because /you/ care. My Da is a good man. I love him with all me heart. But I know he has done bad things. He is a soldier. He has killed. More than once. But I also know he does't /like/ what he is. He jus realizes it is necessary."

He then looks back to the pinecone. "It is what it is, Wanda..It may not survive.. or it may. SOmetimes we can't push the natural order too far outa balance. Either way, it will carry one. Maybe it will become a tree.. maybe it will give life to another tree." Either way it will carry on.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
His words give her enough pause that she considers the frail thing, knowing it will not survive, and accepting that. "Then we will leave it."

Rising, she comes closer to him, and offers her hand.

"My father is not a good man. But he loves deeply. I do not know if that excuses him what he has done." Or will do. "I try to see it as he does. He believes that he does it out of love for us, our people, to try and save us. To keep us from harm."

She shakes her head.

"At best I can say only that he loves me. I see that in him. Perhaps it is selfish to want that love. Shall we walk?"

Thistlewalker has posed:
Thistlewalker takes her hand and slowly unfolds himself to his full height, stretching a bit to get the blood (or is it sap) flowing) then offers her a smile. "Aye, we shall walk some more.. Hats what paths are for, after all." he tells her with a chuckle. He starts leading them towards the food vendors, his stomach growling a bit.

"It is not selfish to want the love of your parent, lass. It is natural. Even when our parents do wrong, we try to see whut is right in them." he tells her. "And sometimes people do bad things in th' name of trying ta make things right. Thats life all over... Always has been. But a parent cannae always keep their child, or their people, frum harm.. Not all the time.. But parents have a hard time seein that."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Wanda's fingers are warm within his, or around his depending on your perspective.

"You know," she muses, "I think I have never walked in the park like this. Not in all the time I have lived here."

Not that she's been here so long, but one would think she might have at least once. "Not always," Wanda says quietly, thinking of her own progeny. It is a strangeness that she has them, and that they do not elicit within her this maternal instinct he speaks of. It is almost as though she had set bits of herself apart and independantly upon the earth and merely let them be what she could not.