Owner	Pose
Rose Kolodny	New York. Queens. 4th of July. The official fireworks show ended hours ago, but there's always those people who like to hold their own private celebrations... and that goes double for tonight. There's been the crackle of fireworks (or gunshots?) across the city sporadically for hours, and among crowded houses this area is no exception. And that's how it started, really. People showing off for their friends. Three story walk-up that hadn't been renovated since the 1970's. It started small, a stray firework from another building hit laundry hung out to dry on top of a neighbor the block over. And in the middle of the night... no-one noticed. Slowly that fire burned, catching at the sheets and the tarred roof until it has now become a beacon flaring in the darkness. One punctuated with the alarmed cries of those trapped inside.
Rose Kolodny	New York. Queens. 4th of July. The official fireworks show ended hours ago, but there's always those people who like to hold their own private celebrations... and that goes double for tonight. There's been the crackle of fireworks (or gunshots?) across the city sporadically for hours, and among crowded houses this area is no exception. And that's how it started, really. People showing off for their friends. Three story walk-up that hadn't been renovated since the 1970's. It started small, a stray firework from another building hit laundry hung out to dry on top of a neighbor the block over. And in the middle of the night... no-one noticed. Slowly that fire burned, catching at the sheets and the tarred roof until it has now become a beacon flaring in the darkness. One punctuated with the alarmed cries of those trapped inside.
Michael	Streaks of colour in the sky bring children to their bedroom windows and send hounds scattering to a corner in fear. Explosive bombs bursting in air to shower bright twinkles of colour lures in another witness, one with his hands deep in his pockets as he comes to a standstill on the corner. His head cranes back slightly to see the latest howler spiralling into the night sky. His smile is faint at the display of embers raining down on the roofs. Michael's been walking this way for hours. Ever since dark fell, he has taken to the streets to listen to one Roman candle after another set off. He's seen the spectacle on the river. He's watched duds sputter out to a chorus of groans. Don't buy cheap fireworks from Jersey, lesson of the day. The wind blows the scent of smoke and powder over the air. The addition of runny tar and combustible plaster, paint, and household supplies is something else though. His head turns to it and the expression on his face changes slightly. A frown forms for a moment as he recognises at least something. Probably tar. There's a bit more of a clip to his easy stride as he follows the source back... three blocks away, but hey.
Rose Kolodny	Much like the hounds, Molly does not approve of the fireworks. Not by a long shot. She's been prowling the streets for hours with her shoulders hunched and teeth gritted against the noise. She's wound up enough from it that the smell of smoke doesn't catch her attention right away. It's the smattering of people that have started to emerge from the neighboring properties that intrude upon her thoughts. Fire. Reflected in the silver of her lenses as her eyes cast upwards to the building. She's caught, for a long moment in the crackle and roar of it.
Michael	It takes Michael time to orient on the smoky scent's source. Through the other run down properties pushed too close together, sight would not be helpful. But he moves faster than any seasoned firefighter might, short of assistance from an operator or a drone. His pace quickens. Somewhere behind a screen of bricks, trouble is on the rise and his acute senses catch the words of troubled conversations. Words like 'Fire' and 'Burning' are self-evident. He swings through someone's parking spaces and leaps over a fence covered in 'no parking' signs and graffiti. It's an easy landing for a tall man like him. He again checks the roof lines and there the orange blossoms in a grey haze open. "Stay back," he calls out to anyone else. "The embers might spread. Is there anyone inside?" Questions are asked immediately of everyone in his vicinity.
Rose Kolodny	It's Michael's works that shake Molly out of her reverie. People. Yes. She shakes herself free of her thoughts as others step back, turning her silvered gaze towards Michael and then back up to the building,"I see a woman on the second floor, two children on the third and movement there." she points towards another one of the windows. Someone finally tries to call the fire brigade, a ways off thanks to crowds and hours and sheer volume of effort. She doesn't go running for the front door but instead scans the sides,"Stairs?" she suggests to Michael, pointing in the direction of the neighboring buildings fire escape.
Michael	Hope rides on Michael's shoulder. His voice carries clearly with purpose and action, rather than fear and the hushed mutter of someone not sure what to do. The man has the build to possibly be one of New York's second finest. It's easy to feel energized in his presence, a hint of the ocean of promise stitched into his every atom. "Children are the priority. Third floor may be the closest to the fire's source," he says after checking the building. The fire makes a great deal of noise, but he can perceive the different tones. Fire belching, wood buckling and crackling. Even the paint peeling off the walls has a tone he's learning well. "Miss, you don't have to come. Someone staying down here would be a blessing." He gives Molly a nod, and then takes off at a jog for the fire escape. It isn't exactly necessary for him to get up there. But he's prompt about jumping up to catch the lowest rungs and then sprinting for the platform adjacent to the highest floor. A jump is child's play and he doesn't try to make it look at all fancy.
Rose Kolodny	There's a grunt of acknowledgment from Molly. Evidently she's not going to argue that priority, though she points out with a thumb,"Plenty of people here already." for her the fire escape is a necessity, and he can no doubt hear that he's being followed. She jumps for the lowest rung and swings herself up with minimal difficulty in his wake,"Less of a distance between the stairs and the window than straight down... two could get them over it." is her opinion at least.
Michael	Michael lands on the rooftop, dropping into a steep crouch. Wherever the fire happens to be, belching smoke and toxic fumes, he measures the distance to the nearest window by already moving. Staying low gives him the chance to feel with his boot before committing to putting his weight down in case the tarry shingles give way and drop him straight into a blazing bedroom. It's insane to do this. No one ought to be up there, but he doesn't seem to bother worrying about such facts while going to the nearest window. Swinging over means he can deliver a sharp kick to break the glass and allow fresh air in; not the best for fire suppression, but essential for getting children out. "Sounds like a plan. I'm going in." He's a man in a t-shirt and jeans, about to take on a fire. There's not a hint of fear reflected in those serene blue eyes turned up to Molly. "We can do this. If it's not safe, run."
Miranda Madsen	There is a sudden rush of wind from above. One would think it a fluke or perhaps an incoming hero.. but there is nothing to see. Just the rushing of wind in a constant fan. It would even seem that the fanning is making the flames worse by feeding them fresh oxygen. Woosh. Woosh. Woosh. It is a steady flapping of something with a wingspan considerably larger than any bird New York has ever seen. For those attuned to the presence of magic or when such powers are drawn upon, there is a distinct surge... then.. there is a dragon floating over the roof. It shimmers into being like a Klingon wardbird decloaking over San Francisco. More importantly, it is inhaling.     The smell of brimstone is harsh against the nostrils and is spread with each flap of wing. The expansion of its chest suggests and imminent breathing of... fire? Indeed, it even seems to be so as its maw opens and a red glow surges forth.. but even as the tumble of flame escapes its mouth.. the fire changes. Chills. Magically changes into a storm of frost billowing out across the rooftop silencing the burgeoning blaze and covering everywhere it sweeps with a sheen of sleet and ice.
Rose Kolodny	"Hey..." Molly starts as Michael divvy's up the duties, reaching out to grab his arm,"You're going to be blind in there. I wont be." not that she's eager to go jumping into it. She recognizes just how insane the idea is and isn't exactly eager to go set herself on fire, but she has to at least say something. There's no reaction from the woman regarding the sudden influx of power, not the slightest twitch. Magically speaking she's a deaf mute who wouldn't know a dragon if it materiali... huh. The moment that the motion above becomes obvious to her is probably reflected in the way her silvered lenses turn skyward and she just about trips down the stairs with a profane word in her sudden haste to leap back from the giant flying lizard overhead.
Michael	Broken glass falls to the floor and down the front of the burning three storey apartment. Michael is already well on his way to swinging down when Molly grabs him. Nothing but flesh and bone there, to the outset. He checks himself before hopping in, smiling at her. "I'm not quite so bad as that. Your help is warmly welcome. Let's focus on the kids and the others." He isn't wasting time as he prepares to descend, grabbing the hot gutter that shouldn't support his weight. Nor does the weakened metal, but he only needs the foothold at the broken window to get in. For a moment, he's standing on the precipice. He gestures quickly for Molly to follow him, even with a great flying cryptid appearing. Reality is strange. He raises his eyebrows. Frost boiling down around the flames also probably coats him and makes his ingress even more hazardous. Now there's glass and it's slippery. The cold mist rising up around him might even make it hard to see. "Thank you!" calls the archangel up to the flapping dragon that hovers too close for any sane person's comfort. Man's crazy, it's that simple. Good fortune continues to bleed around him, bestowing hope and quiet favour on those disposed to doing good. Then he ducks inside to go find the occupants, because he has to mess up that tidy white t-shirt somehow.
Rose Kolodny	"That..." Molly's not quite so fast on the move. She'd love to take off her lenses and clean them for good measure... but their surgical insertion sort of prevents that. He's on the move and she's slow because she's still trying to work out whether she's having visual errors again. So it takes a second for her to go,"Wait... you can see it too?" and elects to scramble after him if only because it's less intimidating than standing on the now slippery roof with something her brain keeps plaintively insisting cannot possibly exist.
Miranda Madsen	The breath continues, covering everything in rhime and hoarfrost until finally the blaze on the roof has been snuffed. The flapping of the wings continues which sends a billowing of snow into the air obscuring visibility.. sadly the fire below remains unaffected save that the roof is now resistant to its efforts due to a sudden chill. The dragon finally chooses the alight on the building but holds onto the brick and mortar edge rather than landing on the weakened roof. There perched, there is a dipping of the draconic chin to Michael at his thanks then it turns about, wrapping its tail around the water tower for support, and cranes its neck down to peer into a top floor window. Someone screams. But the screaming stops as there is a plume of frosty air from the window.. a snort of hoarfrost dousing the flames within. And a very confused and now dragon snort/frost covered resident.
Michael	"Yes, miss, I can!" That's the parting comment from the black-haired man working his way into the ruins of a bedroom on the upper floor. Throwing spars aside and pushing away smoldering objects, he ducks down to avoid being hit in the head by any debris. Those inside might see something very different than the fellow outside, his body starting to glow with the gentle, warm light of a fresh spring morning. Smoke and haze only increase the diffused lens around him, helping him to stand out among the garish fire gleam and the darkness. "I've come to help," he calls out softly while picking his way around with only minimal concern for himself. He searches for the children if they are even in the room, a quick check under the table or behind the bed. If they cannot answer for themselves, unconscious or not, then he trusts sight will guide him. He goes as quickly as he can to clear it out, hardly concerned about his own safety so much as anyone stuck inside. Mostly it sounds like him tramping around and redecorating.
Rose Kolodny	Molly tries very hard not to think about what the clatter from outside might mean, and where Michael zigs right, she zigs left towards where the dragon just frosted a resident. Unerring in the relative gloom. At least she's not the only one that doesn't look entirely certain about the matter, but the resident at least elects to totter unsteadily with her back towards Michael with a shout of,"Second floor!" for the... thing... above. For Michael, the children are locatable, huddled in the bottom of their closet, a small blond girl and her brother still in their pajamas. Streaks of clean in their sooty cheeks speak of the fear they'd experienced, but even gently glowing, with his aura of hope and peace they scramble out of the closet. "Papa?!" the girl asks. "Here. I've got him." Molly's response from the dark, slowed by trying to help the man navigate the debris and her own utter lack of light.
Miranda Madsen	The press of New York's domestic building arrangements does not leave a dragon much space to work with. With golden scales now shimmering from a layer of frost, it unfurls it's wings for balance and reaches out with a foreclaw to the building on the opposite side of the alley. Its claws dig into concrete and brick with ease and soon the creature is climbing down the wall. It comes as no surprise that the flames flicking out of windows don't phase it at all. In fact, its a foregone conclusion that dragons favor fire. The crunch of the building facing would naturally make any building super cringe and, oddly, the dragon does not try to use the fire escape for support. Which is probably a good thing as it would rip it clean from the building. Eventually, its neck is able to crane itself to one of the more offending windows and once again a snort of frost douses the fire within.
Michael	"Here." Michael kneels down on the warped floorboards, ignoring how warm it feels through his jeans. He opens his arms to the children, still glowing to such a degree seeing him is rather easy. That embrace signals protection and relief. He does not project himself more than he has to, but the warm presence within him stirs to radiate through gesture, tone, and body language anyways. "You did so well helping one another. Let's get out and see your parents." Supporting the boy and girl as needed, he lifts them effortlessly to his chest. Backtracking through the ruin to the nearest fire escape using Molly's directions helps him. The broken bits of wood and a fallen picture get nudged aside by his boots. No need to do any unnecessary damage. The existential threats are left behind, but he waits for Molly and her rescuee to reach the window first. The fresh air hopefully overcomes any smoke inhalation for his charges. "That's it. Just a little further, and we can get down to the street. I'll go back for the lady if she's not been found yet."
Rose Kolodny	"The... thing... big... flying thing." Molly is trying to explain the dragon but that word is not at all in her vocabulary,"It went down to the second level to deal with the fire there." he's glowing. And though her eyes are concealed there might just be the impression she's squinting at him with all the suspicion she can muster in the face of that aura before she sticks her head out the window to look down and then gesture the man out carefully,"Watch your step, it's unsteady... and don't look down." she advises with another sidelong look towards Michael and the kids before offering,"Here.. let me help."
Miranda Madsen	Thing indeed. The dragon rumbles something unintelligable to humans. Who is to say what it is commenting on or saying or if it's even saying anything at all. It does decide, as it clambors about, to make it to the main street where it can stand up on its hind legs and breathe frost into windows easily broken by a poke of its snout. There are screams but they are short lived as confusion sets in. People in New York are used to the strange and unusual but then.. dragons are a part of the collective unconscious as being dealy things. Except.. today it is putting out fires. It is not some red scaled, wild horned beast devouring maidens but.. a golden scaled and sleek figured creature.. allowing a person to climb out a window onto and outstretched claw gingerly setting them on the ground. Welcome to New York.
Michael	The glow dims down considerably in the open night, for there's no need to be a bonfire in the dark shadows. Not with a dragon on the frost rampage, chilling all those hot spots. Michael is well and distracted by the children, but he meets Molly's quicksilver gaze. "Dragon," he says carefully. "Good that it helped out. I will have to ask why it's here afterwards." After implies once the building ceases to threaten to cave in and lives are at risk. The pattern is clear enough they aren't meant to die, and he fulfils that will. If she is prepared to descend with the presumptive father, he will hand over the boy first, and then the girl. A free hand allows him to grab hold of the fire escape in case it thinks to try and drop free to the ground. Maybe he balances himself. Maybe pigs fly, if anyone really believes that. "See, there, all's well." He nods at the claw and the stunned resident staggering away. As if this is normal. Ask him about that one time he saw the dragon jamboree.
Rose Kolodny	"Dragon." Molly agree's with a faint tone of disbelief that entirely goes with the brittle kind of laugh she gives. Dragon. Why not? There's a small shake of the cyborg's head, mostly to herself as she very gingerly accepts the first child, then makes a noise and awkwardly zips up her jacket despite the warmth of the night. That suspiciously gun-shaped bulge might be why. The first child is handed off to the man proceeding her down the fire escape before she accepts the second one so she carefully follow man and child down, mumbling for the girl child,"Just hang on honey.. everything's going to be okay." there's another look Michael's direction before she does follow the rescuee's down. Between the dragon and the archangel, with the building gilt ice and hoarfrost, it looks like in the least everyone's going to survive, a neighbor coming with a first aid kit cautiously for the presence of the golden scaled dragon more than the comparatively quieter presence of the angel.
Michael	The archangel need only worry about those around him and he's just another gentleman with a calling to help those, a good Samaritan. Maybe the original, if one considers. He slides out through the window and puts his back to the wall, blowing out a breath that's part satisfaction and part relief. "All is well that's done well." He pats the side of the building as though to apologise to the apartment, and takes his way down the stairs. Soot covers his boots. His jeans need a good wash and tears stain spots of relative translucency on his t-shirt. For all that he's not too worse for wear. "Thank you, miss. Without your help, they may have died." He says this as he approaches Molly and offers his dust-speckled hand for a shake if she wants it. "There's a fine dragon up there. I can pass on the gratitude but the others might be nervous."
Rose Kolodny	Molly Millions leaves the rescuees to join the mom that Miranda rescued from the building. Still no services at yet, but from the sounds they're not too far off,"Molly." is grunted by the woman with the lenses,"I'm not a miss." Her lenses shift in the direction of the offered hand, and she does grasp it briefly with a hand whose skin is too smooth by half, especially for the bony artificiality of the structures underneath,"Yeh... let the big thing know thanks. And thank you, too." the last added belatedly as with a glance at the street she elects that it's time for her to prowl off in the opposite direction before the impending sirens arrive to ferry people off to hospitals and secure the building. Molly's 'weird' quotient has definitely been exceeded for the moment.