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Earlier in the day. "I'm going to the amusement park for a .." Kamala sighs and looks at the calendar. "…well, the funnel cake is right out." she murmurs as she realizes it's the start of the Muslim New Year. Time to start fasting! But as she is wandering Attlian, she came across Triton. "I want to show you something." she offers in an overly cheerful way that speaks of volumes of what she may have in mind.
It took a little coaxing and a lot of wrapping Triton up to at least make him look human, but eventually Lockjaw deposits the pair of them outside of the boardwalk. "They're having a Rights March today." she explains to the ruler. "Right now, there's a lot of Americans that don't have the same rights as others.." She's actually one of that number as she straightens her scarf. "We're not participating, I just.. you know, humanity's changing, and maybe someday - you can walk freely without worry, or you know.. drying out. We should definetly stick close to the water!" she admits as she watches the group of people near the boardwalk with their signs and chants starting to form up under the watchful eye of the State Police.
Taking a ride on his Harley-Davidson motorcycle to just go for a drive, (no helmet) Robbie starts to see the boardwalk and the March starting to form. He wears his trademark Leather Jacket with the white decal on the front with a black T-shirt underneath, lightly baggy jeans and boots. He also wears a long chain wrapped diagonally across his chest.
Deciding it may be worth checking out or watching, being Latin-American, he parks his bike in a surprisingly available parking spot, and hops off, putting his biker gloves back on as he takes a small breath.
. Considering the past few days for him, he wondered how interesting this one would be.
Scarlett at a rights march is hardly shocking to anyone. She has fame on the underground circuit for being the 'Flower Girl,' appearing at such things holding a basket of blooms instead of weapons during some of the more exciting gatherings. No sign for her today, only a basket of Canterbury bells and chrysanthemums in a dizzying selection of shades. The handle sways a little on her sleeve, and the elaborate spiral of her braids contains their own profusion of blossoms: edelweiss, delicate and white, and striped geraniums, probably the last of the season.
She moves through those mingling with their signs and their shouts for better treatment, a lone figure etched in a smart red skirt and white peasant blouse, the bohemienne fearlessly approaching some of those growling on the sidelines. A spike of purple flowers for him, a clutch of chrysanthemums for her. Humming as she goes, she offers a smile in the face of a sneer or indignation, refusing to back down in the face of prospective violence. But it's easy, when one is blithe and hopeful. The hum of a motorcycle or the growl of an offensive comment doesn't matter too much to her.
Triton was the consummate watcher and keeper of the royal family. Okay he was sent to go talk to the problem counsin when things got out of hand and keep things from escalating. He was still in Attilan for the resolution of their findings. It was not an unpleasant encounter when kamala offered to 'show him a thing'. He had his rebreather, containment suit on, and owned his 'civilian clothes': Army jacket, utilitarian pants, army boots. Really no amount of cover makes him not stand out though his skin, naturally, shift to match the olive green of the coat.
He listened in and noted, "I heard from my cousin something about this. Humans being concerned with things… other than human. Mutants, alien? It happens in sub-aquatic cities too. Just usually with fewer signs." Large, dark eyes scanned the people. It was true, the ability to write was something of a commodity for he and the communities he was liasion to. There was a faint laugh at her optimism, "Aaaaah, I don't think their social acceptace is going to change the demands of biology, Kamala. But you're not wrong about them. It's why we've chosen to stay and remain hidden. We're actually fortunate to have you with us. You grew up witht them." He paused and had to ask, "What's a funnel cake?" His head tilted and this did get his aattention as much as the rumble of the motorcycle.
"A funnel cake is just the greatest thing ever." Kamala is going to leave it at that as she'd rather show than tell Triton. See. She's on her fast. Ten days - no food. But; she has plans to live very very vicariously through Triton as they move around the outskirts of the crowd. "I'm going to introduce you to cotton candy, and funnel cakes and cherry lemonade.. oh oh and corn dogs! They sell Nathan's here, which is not an infidel brand!" she says quickly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
But then she turns a little serious. "It's not just mutants and aliens. The color of your skin and your gender.. they still get treated differently. It's not.. very good. But people are wanting to change. That's why they're here. Not just those of color, or women.. but all the diversity - humankind at it's best, wanting to see a difference made in their lifetime, you — hey!"
She's suddenly waving to the Bohemian Princess. "I know her!" she says to Triton. "We met after you guys totally dumped me at you know where." Because she's not going to say Avengers Mansion outloud. She does have some couth! "That's Scarlett. I think Bucky's sweet on her. At least in my head canon, he is."
Robbie walked down the board walk, already coming across quite a few people of various backgrounds (of course, this is judging from sight alone instead of meet and greet.). Though he does see flower girl Scarlett though and goes to see what she has to offer. "Hola Senorita." He greets, looking respectful and offering a faint smile "How much?" He points lightly to one of the flowers, looking at the various shades she has in her possession.
After he asks, he takes a second to glance around, eyes passing unnoticingly over Triton and Kamala "Didn't know there was one of these today." He says, apparently obliviously.
Someone please save the demonstrators from the torments (key: TORMENT!) of sweet scents wafting over from the street vendors and the food trucks. Try walking while disrupted by the cotton candy machines spinning evil, sugary spindrifts and the saccharine joys of elephant ears and other deep-fried, powdered constructs with comical names and no nutritional value whatsoever. Why, it's almost torture. Plagued by the occasional seagull or teen munching on fries, the group chants and maybe sings, pursuing the ultimate goal of fair treatment for all.
It might upset the lookie-loos to know that at least one in their presence isn't at all human; the others are partly; and maybe the fellow in the questionable mustard yellow coat is in fact a demon in disguise. How else to explain the bad fashion sense? He hoists his sign "Fair laws 4 all!" along with everyone else.
Scarlett drifts how she will, offering the flowers. Her long fingers pinch the stem of a Canterbury bell, and with that she knights the next person in line. Reversing it to point the thicker stalk at Robbie, she offers a friendly smile. "Have a joyous day. No price for that but a smile." Her neroli perfume dances on the air, an intrinsic beam of sunshine hit by the citrus undertones. The sound of familiar voices turns her head, those surreal green eyes tracking for a source. Among many, it isn't easy. "Yes, the community has been surprisingly quiet What compelled them to come out today, I'm not sure. The universities are ramping up, though." Is that a man in a green coat with green skin? Yes, yes it is. On tiptoe, she waves.
Triton followed with his head on a passive swivel. One cannot take the habits out of the spy. Especially not while tensions are gathered to an apex to potentially flare. Right now though the warrior poet's attention was on the important matter at hand: food. The ridge of his brow furrowed and he said "Oh I could never eat a canine." At Kamala's introduction he chuckled and quietly said, "Yes that's Scarlett. She's a…. friend of my cousin and one of my family's liasons. She's the one I called." This amused him though at the talk of 'Bucky' and the words 'head cannon' he seemed utterly lost. "Hmm?" Before he could ask his attention went back to the man with the motorbike. "Come on. it'd be rude not to say hi."
For a member of the royal family, and a fish, he was still pretty relaxed to the point of almost casual. His skin shifted to take on faintly bluer tones reflected back from sky taking on a jade tone, up from the yellowed olive. A grin widened to Rogue. "Scarlett, been a time. I brought back notes for your scrap book you are keeping." Always with the casual code. The voice was muffled in the mack when he greeted Robbie, "You have a throughly impressive machine there." It was compliment though he went back to Scarlett and noted, "I see you've met Kamala. So… these people are petitioning for a cessation of of division from… whom?"
Oh. Of course Triton would already know Scarlett. Kamala's cheeks redden for a moment before the talk of the motorcycle draws her attention and she looks over at it. "…I would have to do sooo much prayer if I even thought about entertaining thoughts of riding that infidel beast." she murmurs softly, before her attention turns back to Triton. "Not division or seperation - they.. we.. want to close the divide. The United States should be united as equals, and right now.. that just isn't so." As she's talking, she's reaching into her lightning bolt bag and fishing for her wallet so she can buy Triton a cherry lemonade. And herself a water.
Smiling faintly to Scarlett when she gives him a flower, Robbie nods to her a moment stoically before flashing her a smile as payment. Did he take her price seriously? Who knows. "Gracias, Seniorita." He takes a smell of the flower, a habit that severely relaxed him and tended to put him at ease when stressed (no, he doesn't smoke it).
His attention falls upon Kamala and Triton when Scarlett waves to them. He notices preettyyy quickly that Triton isn't human, but he acts like it's a casual meeting. Let's be real, a guy who periodically travels between dimensions and kills demons from time to time has seen some weird shit. "Hello." He greets in the English language.
He actually chuckled a little to Triton "Thanks. Nice jacket." He compliments to return the compliment before his attention falls upon Kamala "they're not for everyone senorita." He shrugs once before offering both his hand, offering first to Triton, then Kamala in greeting.
"Name's Robbie. Nice to meet you." He says with a faint smile, though sincere.
"Would that I had a proper flower to give you. A sprig for something that blooms on the shore of Long Island," sighs the redheaded young woman, the buoyant smile brushed over her warm expression welcoming as much as it is entertained by the familiar. Her fingertips are stained by the light scent of the flowers, bruised petals and curling leaves responsible for the most part. The bell flowers in her basket are points of glossy purple against a field of green, the chrysanthemums in a more distinct variety ranging from dusty lilac to rusted orange, rainbows of an autumn afternoon. "You did? I never anticipated you would deliver it personally. I thank you, though I think I'm to make the complete collection a gift to Blackagar." Scarlett tips her head slightly to the side and bestows a friendly nod to Kamala. "If you would like flowers, by all means, you're welcome to have your pick. Are you trying to join the march or just observing?" Late to the converssation, she's picking up from the cues to where they ought to go.
Her fingers wrap around the basket, pushing the handle higher. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Scarlett, by the way. What kind of bike is that? Reminds me a little of a Victory I saw a couple months back."
Triton reached out and eyed the flowers, pulled an orange carnation, and pinched the stem shorter with short clawed nailed. He eyed Kamala for a moment and stuck it behind her left ear for her. The fishnam nodded. Better. "Oh yeah? I imagine that'll send him over the moon." Figurativly, perhaps literally. Either way he seemed pleased, if not amused by this, but wholly unsurprised. "He'll appreciate the gesture. Kamala was telling me about the wonders of a funneled cake. The people gathered all on their own." Though he turned from Rogue to Robbie and Kamala. "So who is creating the divide, or perpetuating this? Is this their disagreement with governing body? I see that a bit where I've been. This seems divisble by more than class and station though." He squint and looked back at the three, "Why?" His world was cosmopolitan as they come.
One orange chrysanthemum down, then, an ornament for Kamala. Scarlett considers the question in silence for a few moments, turning her gaze upon the staggered array of Americans in a column standing up for legal equality. For the most part. Her distant expression softens, revealing for an instant the true age she has — very little, in many senses. She's but a few years older than Kamala and in many ways far, far younger. It merely takes those moments to reveal the truth.
"There is no single answer for the question. Our society places a privilege on certain characteristics while downplaying the value of others," she says carefully, philosopher queen wrapped in a dreamy air of realism. "Our systems for governance, justice, and every facet of living place a premium on Caucasian origin, masculinity, birth in this country, and other factors deemed to be ideal. Being outside that, such as a man of African descent, or a woman with radical political beliefs, is hardly beneficial because the police, teachers, the media, and nigh on everyone else has a bias against it. You've possibly seen shops where they refuse to serve coloured people, restaurants where they must sit elsewhere? It's sadly an endemic issue. The paper our laws are written on is worthless when those laws are not enforced and defended. Why should someone from Mississippi with a dark skin tone be forced to sit at the back of a bus or use a different water fountain? Fear of contamination, fear of the different, the other. It's a nasty component of group think and incomprehensible to me at the relative distance of wisdom." Her fingers curl to her palm, acknowledgment of something or another. What is hard to decipher, until she goes further into the realms of contemplation.
"I have traveled to other spaces beyond these, and witnessed wonders. Castes, divisions; they are everywhere, but on a scale as this? We're all one race, but to see how we treat our fellows in this country, you'd hardly know. To say nothing of those who have a different genetic background or are actual aliens. I don't like it. Could I tear the system down and rebuild it in a better sense of equanimity and fairness, I would. Though I loathe violence, there are times when upheaval is essential to change the status quo and break the rigid accretion of traditions and customs that no longer serve us. You can imagine your cousin and I have many a conversation on that point." Surely she's joking. The cousin she associates with can't speak.
Robbie smiled to them as they introduce themselves. He does nod to Scarlett, and looks as if he was going to put the flower behind Scarlett's ear…but Triton beats him to it! So he looks to the side and finds a little girl, and with her parents consent, he puts the flower behind the girls ear as an act of goodwill. He turns then to answer Scarlett "it is a victory model, though I made modifications to it with parts from a Yamaha and other tidbits. That engine can purr." He chuckled faintly. He loved that motorcycle. Mechanic's pride in his work.
Robbie listened closely to Scarlett's words, though doesn't seem to be in disagreement. He looks among the crowd "just sums up to human nature I suppose. People will be people." He says in a slightly pessimistic way, but he still has hope in humanity. "Dunno if it ever will be changed in permanence ese(homie)." He shrugs once, putting on his gloves.
periodically though, he does look amongst the crowd as if looking for anything that could put these people in danger. A habit of his.
Indeed, as the protest is continuing, there's a small group of men - college aged looking gentlemen, that are converging on the side of one of the buildings. One of them is carrying a large bag. With the flower offered to Kamala, the young woman accepts it with a bright smile and slips it into her hair. "My parents emigrated here before I was born - because of some of the things that we have seen going on here. That the color of your skin and how you are born would dictate your place in life. It's worse where I was from, with castes and such.. but.." she frowns. "It's going to be better." she says optimistically.
Triton looked back to the people and had a lot to think about there. A faint smirk of complete amusement warmed his features as much as they would, "Oh, really?" He could have a field day with that, but he was far too much the mediator these days. There was a part of him that really wanted someone to say something. He hasn't dressed someone down in a while. Okay it was two days and it was when Max welded more of this things into a pile. Outside of that though. A webbed hand gave Kamala's shoulder a squeeze and offered, "Well it can't stay teh same, which leaves only the option for better. Or at least different. Change is always messy and uncomfortable."
With those braids frosted by tiny white alpine flowers, Scarlett is a garden in motion, the very image of a flower child before anyone has thought to make the term happen. "Oh, yes. That's a lovely design and they have the best forks and suspension. A bit picky when it comes to their brakes, if you do not have a light touch, at least as I have seen. Plus, sourcing the pads is a bit of a hardship outside New York, I imagine. Suppliers from England and…." She trails off. Might as well be speaking English among the Greeks for all it matters, but she gives Robbie a rueful grin marked by a fellow connoisseur. Speed demon? Oh yes, yes. Hers may be a slightly less fiendish inclination but it's there. Where was she?
Oh, right, social activism, things she does best. Giving Kamala a nod, she says, "It is. Already we have changes. People do not accept what they did a decade ago. We are on the cusp of a new era. I grant you, new things are scary and change is intimidating, but we have seen it many times in the past. We'll weather this and come through all the better."
|ROLL| Kamala +rolls 1d20 for: 12
|ROLL| Kamala +rolls 1d20 for: 9
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d20 for: 4
|ROLL| Robbie +rolls 1d20 for: 11
The boys finish unloading their supplies. Balloons, filled with paint. As the march is passing by their position, one of the students stands up and flings the balloons. "Go home!" he yells out as several more balloons fill the air, raining down onto the march. Kamala yelps at the last moment - and to the very observant, they may notice that her body bent just a little weirdly as she gets out of the way with the paint splatter.
Robbie is not so fortunate and hit square with a red paint balloon as a green drifts towards Rogue, she's aware of it. The question is, what will she do?
The problem is that one of the boys yells, "Grenade!" Which starts to set off a panic in the crowd - because he was dumb and not thinking about what he just said.
Robbie isstill listening to the conversation, however, his eyes are fixed on the college-looking guys that are moving to the side of a building…He's still listening to the conversation, but only catching bits and peices. He replies to Scarlett without looking at her for a moment, before he turns his head to her with a gentle smile. Gotta respect a lady who knows her bikes. "Exactly. Yes." his smile grows a little wider.
He does smile then to Kamala, though he does notice her optimism, his normally pessimistic nature decides not to reveal itself. "Anything's possible…I would know." he barely mumbles that last part, before those college boys start acting up…and while Kamala leans out of the way, Robbie get's hit square in the chest, paint going all over his shirt. He clenches his right hand when a boy shouts grenade, and if anyone was looking closely at Robbie…it was almost like there was a flame in his eyes…not one that was normal, a darker feel to them. "I'll be right back." he cracks his neck, moving past Triton with a small "perdon. (excuse me)" he makes a straight B-line for those boys!
|ROLL| Triton +rolls 1d20 for: 19
Triton could not be prouder really of the inherent optimism. "We can only hope through opportunity they will learn and grow-" And the paint balloon came whipping though. It was behind him first and dodged by Kamala. The second? Those rounded eyes catught the motion of it flying and with a turn and ahalf step turned to face them oproviding Kamala with opportunity to use him as a shield for cover if she opted to. That large, webbed hand reached out like a baseball mitt and caught the second one cradling it. Unbroken. He was not amused. He was not angry, but he was far, far from amused and decidedly unhappy about the word ''grenade'' being thrown about. Instincts where there looking for point of origin, projected ballistic radius, opportunity for soft targets to be hit by sharapnel damage, and source. It was instinct as much as it was function for the soldier. "Kamala… we okay?" He didn't look but the tone put him at the fence of deciding what, if any actions were going to be necessary.
Anyone dropping paint in such a place gets points for creativity and loses them all for the girl in a white peasant blouse. Truly the Fates smile on the wrong person. Scarlett is not so engrossed in the conversation she fails to notice an orb floating around at the corner of her peripheral vision, and eventually she looks over just as one of the popped latex balloons drops its load.
Not quite a Hindenberg moment, the threat registers as something particularly odd. Her shoulders slide back, the old tension erupting somewhere under her chest. No, no one is going to be having fun with her quite like that as it descends, finding the girl leaping back with a hand on Triton's arm, if he lets her pull him out of the way as a matter of happenstance. Yes, he and Kamala are fine, and it doesn't matter; she has an obligation. Light as a feather, she makes that easy, grimacing at Kamala. "This isn't good. There should be an open cafe over there. Out of the way, quick, before someone gets trampled. Go with the crowd, yes?"
that old adage not to let a man stand on his own applies, though, as she takes to moving with a quick stride after Robbie. Smaller, this is a task, but there are advantages. She's the flower girl for a reason. Ever been hit in the head by an iris spear? Canterbury bells are as rigid and pretty damn aerodynamic. When thrown by a girl who can catch skyscrapers, well…
Robbie was -not- amused. He didn't notice Scarlett trailing behind him just yet, but he moved past everyone fairly fluidly, and the people who may run into him…just bounce off. Robbie was all business and it didn't take long for him to be right there, arms crossed in front of the boys…who inevitably try to run. Robbie however, takes that chain off his torso with a whip of his hand and traps one by the leg, draaaggging him back with a single tug with extreme ease. Eventually, he's holding one of the college boys by the collar of his shirt, holding him in the air "Talk!" The Defender member spoke, "Did someone send you? o estas estupido?!" he didn't look to happy…even his fellow Latino's were in the March. Patriotism at it's finest, or at least love of one's people group.
Of course, Scarlett could totally catch another one. "You're going to sit there and wait for the cops to show up. and if they don't…you and I will have a very unpleasant conversation." he scolds, fire still in his eyes. and it's only then he sees Scarlett. No scolding in his eyes for her though, jsut a stoic expression and a faint smirk at her presence, before his attention falls to the boy again..who's probably crying right now. Maybe a few days in the slammer will teach him a lesson?
"I'm okay!" comes the small voice behind Triton. Kamala's there. She's okay and unsplattered. The young woman is frowning though as the crowd is starting to scatter in all types of directions. The State Police are busily trying to direct the crowd, protestor and not as they're both caught up in the panic.
The boy that's grabbed yelps! "No, nothing like that!" he cries out. "It was just a prank!" comes the protest as he's held up off the ground. "The Alpha Lambdas said it was needed for us to pledge in!" Oh great, it's Rush Week somewhere.
Triton noted that whoever Alpha Lambda was, his mother must not have cared for him very much. Very unoriginal name. He wasn't going to stand forward, but he wasn't going to stand down either. His shoulders relaxed slightly at Kamala's confirmation that she was good. The police were on this and… okay the man withthe motorbike seemed resourceful and adept. His head turned to teh side, one eye on her, one on the action, "It is, but is not our fight. We can make sure no one gets hurt, but they have to fight it with their rules or it won't be their change." He had some thoughts on this.
Robbie stared at the young boy, then pointed to the panicking crowd "You call this a prank! I should beat you myself." he stares deep into his eyes….and the boy could see into his eyes too…and that shit was scary! Eventually though, he just lets him go and let's him hit the ground. "Get out of my sight. and if I see you 'pranking' in this manner again, I will personally shove my foot so far up your ass that you taste leather. Comprende Cabron(understand motherfucker?)" he crosses his arms, looking legitimately -pissed-. He noticed the people were still in a panic, and he looks to the boy again "and to the one who thought screaming 'grenade', an actual tool of death, at a crowd of people was a bueno idea, do tell him I'll be finding him shortly, regardless if it was you or not. and tell your shitty college group they need a new 'induction ceremony'." his eyes flare with fire that he could perfectly see…run boy run!
He then sighs deeply. He was probably missing Harlem right about now.
|ROLL| Kamala +rolls 1d20 for: 17
That boy that Robbie was holding up? Yeah, he totally wet himself in the penance stare. Dropped to the ground, he takes off running to go find his buddies, because that was utterly terrifying.
The police seem to be getting things under control, as Kamala looks to Triton. "…maybe we should consider leaving before they get a good look at you.."
Triton eyes the swift justice being sorted out. The local authorities are policing their own. Sure he could pass as a Mutant, but he wasn't. He wasn't comfortable speaking on behalf of another people even if in perception, nor have they agreed to come out to teh world. In the end he'd let others think twhat they would and fell into agreement with Kamala. "I think it's time we leave." He didn't let go of the paint balloon though. No. He now had plans for that. Oooooooh how he had plans.